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merakiui · 4 years ago

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Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare.

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self.

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise.

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much.

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role.

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons.

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier.

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future.

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage.

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease.

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya.

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win?

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.”

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life.

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits.

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave.

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed.

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair.

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore.

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact ajax #yandere genshin impact ajax #ajax x reader #yandere ajax x reader

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whumpworld · 3 years ago

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Top 5 Tropes

The lovely, @whump-cravings, posed an excellent question in the comments of my introduction post and I figured I should officially share my reply for all to see, so that you all can come to know me a bit better. While it has always been a struggle of mine to pick favorites, I have managed to narrow my top tropes down to this list. As far as least favorite tropes, I have come across none which I disliked enough to note.

Suffocation/Choking: This is an absolute classic and, for me, one which never gets old. There is nothing better than depriving a human of their unarguably foremost need—air. Without it, we are left a beautiful, cyanotic mess, a twisted face of pure, animalistic expression of desperation and instinct because one simply cannot stop their lungs and throat from burning and spamming for air. One cannot stop their diaphragm from heaving against their ribs in an attempt to suck in breath, and to no avail, as a hand or rope crushes the neck. It one of the most alluring sights of all, that gasping, gulping, guppy face.

Defiance (and breaking it): Again, a typical top of the list as far as whump tropes go and yet always enjoyable to see. There are few emotions more raw, exhausting, and sickening to experience, than pure frustration and hatred. Whumpee can defy Whumper out of pride, out of spite, but no matter. There is always at least one weakness to be dug up or carved out, and the mind numbing frustration and hatred Whumpee feels towards Whumper as they struggle to continue fighting is overwhelming. As their resistance fails, few things top the satisfaction felt by Whumper or the heart wrenching guilt and shame drawn from Whumpee at finally having all defiance worn away.

Stress positions/Bondage: The vulnerability, humiliation, fear, and sheer physical pain and exhaustion of being tied down, strung up, or any of the endless ways to restrict a humans movement, is it’s own jaw-dropping topic. One of the amazing things about humans is our ceaseless creativity, and this is reflected oh-so-perfectly within the whump community and it’s ability to forever invent new ways to restrain a body. As so often demonstrated in Greek and Roman sculptures and our obsessions with them, we will always be fascinated by the beauty of tension in muscles, the way a body can turn and twist only so far before breaking, and the gradual ebb from straining limbs against restraints to the limp, seemingly lifeless form of one who has no strength remaining to fight the unbeatable pull of gravity.

Sedatives: Though I have not found too many creators who have indulged in this beaut of a trope, it is still one of my top 5. Part of what I find so fascinating regarding sedatives in the use of whump art, writings, or what-have-you, is being able to play with the joyous borderline of consciousness and unconsciousness. Though passing out, fainting, or falling unconscious, could be attributed to too much pain, over stimulation, choking, or any number of factors, there is something particularly striking about it when it is cause by drugs. A character cannot control passing out from pain, in fact, losing consciousness during a torture session could be a great relief to a character who no longer has to experience what they’re going through. But, when passing out is not the natural reaction of the body in response to stress, that is to say, when it is caused by chemicals which shut down the waking self, a character is left even more terrified, wondering the reason for their captor wanting them unconscious (especially when Whumper typically relishes in watching Whumpee’s conscious suffering) and imagining the horrors they could be waking up to. They can fight all they wish, but not a single living thing has will power strong enough to win against unwanted chemical reactions in the blood stream. This, my friends, is the artistry of sedatives within works of whump.

Fever: At first glance, the fever trope seems an odd one. Of course, we all understand the annoyance of falling ill, the pain of headaches and feverish hot and cold flashes, but what about this trope is so fascinating or painful? What trauma does it put Whumpee through? I admit, I was guilty of overlooking this trope as one of interest until realizing the freedom that comes with it. This trope allows the creator absolute control over reality. The impossible becomes possible when a whumpee is so completely, utterly, sweetly, scorched from the inside out with a fever of 105 degrees—a temperature that without fail brings on the characteristic fever-dream hallucinations and delusions. A creator can make a whumpee’s nightmares come true, if only in their mind, yet so very real to them in their burning state. Imagine Whumpee thrashing in the sheets, struggling to get away from Whumper looming over them with a knife—the curve of the blade the same horrific angle as Whumper’s sadistic grin—even though Whumper died three years ago. Even though it’s actually Caretaker, crying above them, begging Whumpee to please drink some water, to please take their medicine. And that is why the fever trope is one of my favorites, as the roles it may serve within a story are endless.

#whump #whump tropes #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump writing

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peachyteabuck · 4 years ago

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remember what you love like

summary: is a lunch date still a lunch date after you leave the restaurant?

a commission for @buckysbunny

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 2,014

trigger warnings: allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, fingering, fluff, mentions of sexting

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha’s hands are tangled in your forest green cardigan, one hand on the small of your back while the other is pressed into the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs when you pull away to gasp for breath, head spinning as a trail of spit connects your mouths in a sight you wish you could see in one of those giant oil paintings that draw large crowds to art museums. “My beautiful little Bunny.”

You preen under her praise, your own hands shaky as they find purchase in her hair, the beltloop of her jeans, anything you can grab as she pushes you into your apartment, pressing you against each and every surface she deems fit. Somewhere between your front door and the wall directly opposite said entrance you lose your cardigan and your shoes, clothes falling to the floor as you’re pushes down the hallway and, finally, onto your bed. You’d made it that morning hoping your lunch date wouldn’t end after you’d left the restaurant just as you had cleaned the rest of your apartment. In truth you’re not sure whether the frantic scrubbing and organization of your kitchen was to impress her or distract yourself for how nervous you were, considering you and Natasha have been dating for about three months now and hadn’t done more than cuddle and today, today of all days felt like the right to rectify that. The two of you had spent all night sexting after you’d sent her a picture of you in your new bra – a pale pink one that made your tits look exquisite. Things had only escalated, you shoving your hands down your pajama shorts to get yourself off at her direction.

So yeah, given all of that, you were decently confident that you would end up with her tongue down your throat and her hands groping at your tits – a thought that left you some weird mixture of overjoyed and frightened.

As your back hits your girly, patterned comforter your heart beats against your ribcage, each chamber trying to rip itself from the rest of the muscle just so that it can travel to each of your limbs and make them shake. Something – someone – is screaming in your ears, the high-pitched sound nearly loud enough to drown out the woman who’s crawled on top of you.

Nearly.

“Hey,” Natasha coos, peppering small kisses along your face and jaw and neck as her center presses into yours. “Hey, Bunny-“

You finally meet her eyes when that pet name – her pet name for you - falls from her lips. Only then does she notice how terrified you look.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks, her own heart now picking up not because her fingertips are on fire and your skin feels just as hot. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh-“ you struggle to find the words, wishing you kept your blanket-like cardigan on so you could hide in it. “I haven’t done this with uh,” you trying to swallow despite your dry mouth. “With women.”

Natasha exhales deeply, face visibly softening. It doesn’t feel like pity, though, which suppresses a tiny bit of your nervousness; the last thing you want is for the woman responsible for the menagerie in your stomach each time she texts you or says your name or worms her way into every passing thought to think of you as some sort of charity case.

“Oh, babes,” she places each hand flat on either side of your jaw, both thumbs rubbing soothingly into your heated cheeks. “You know I’m okay with that – right? I don’t want you any less just because you haven’t done with women before.”

You sniffle, trying to keep the tears that prick the corners of your eyes in their spot. “A-are you sure?”

Natasha nods, leaving a small kiss on the center of your forehead. “Of course I am, Bunny. I don’t care how many women you’ve had sex with.”

“E-even though I’ve had sex with guys?” your eyes are big and scared, petrified of rejection.

Natasha just smiles, pulling you closer to her. “Yes, Bunny. Your sexual history certainly doesn’t define you as a person and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Okay?”

You smile back, leaning into her arms as you sniffle once more. “O-okay.”

“Now,” she smiles as she pulls back, readjusting herself onto her side as you stay on your back. “Where were we?”

And just like that – with fear quelled and uncomfortable twisting in your stomach now loose and simmering below your skin – she returns to her original mission, one that involves ghosting her fingers over your clothed chest before thumbing at the hem of your denim skirt. “You’re so cute, Bunny,” she murmurs. “Such an adorable little Bunny all for me…”

Natasha then pushes your skirt up to your stomach, keeping it in place with her forearm as she begins rubbing the two middle fingers of her right hand along your clothed slit. Your chest heaves as she grins down at your scrunched eyes, furrowed brow, and kiss-swollen lips.

“So beautiful,” she murmurs into your neck, teeth barely pressing into the bruises that deepen with each passing moment. “So good for me, Bunny…”

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as circles your clit, the adorable pink cotton panties you had specifically chosen that morning hoping and praying this would happen now completely soaked through. They’re rough against your sensitive, desperate clit – pussy pulsing around nothing as you buck your hips frantically.

“P-please,” you moan, voice nearly unrecognizable now. “P-please N-Nat!”

She presses a firm kiss to your lips, smiling as she moves her hands to rub at your pussy under your panties. The feeling of her hand there without anything between her skin and your is intoxicating – her fingers easily finding your clit once more. “Call me Mommy,” she murmurs, free hand pushing the sweaty hairs from your forehead. “Call me Mommy, sweet Bunny.”

“Mommy, oh fuck-“ you gasp, the feeling of her hands and the mention of that title you’d been discussing the night before shooting another bolt of lightning through your nervous system, hands bunch the sheets in your palms – your fingers nearly numb as all of your blood rushes to your core. “Oh fucking shit!”

For the first time in what feels like hours you find the courage to open your eyes – another moan deep in your chest filling the hot, thick air. You always wondered why people described being fucked as being consumed, as being the main course in a large meal presented to some rich, old-timey monarch after they return from visiting the more desolate parts of the territory they rule over.

Now, though, under Natasha’s heated gaze with three of her fingers stuffed inside of you while the other hand presses into your stomach – you feel like some prized pig slathered in glaze and placed onto an obnoxious silver platter with a whole apple placed into your waiting mouth as fruits and vegetables circle your flesh. If you had ever felt desired, it certainly didn’t match up to the fire in Natasha’s eyes as she devours each time you twitch, moan, beg for more.

“You sure you want more?” she purrs, fingers stroking that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake and eyes tear up once more. “Does my greedy little Bunny want her Mommy to give her more?”

You nod furiously, mouth barely able to keep up with your racing thoughts. “Yes, fuck Mommy please please please I want-“ you moan as she fucks into you harder, reveling in watching you fall apart. “Please I’ll take anything you want to give me Mommy please!”

Without further delay Natasha moves between your legs, maneuvering you so that one of her hands fucked in and out of you while the other circles your clit in hot, tight circles. Your eyes don’t know where to focus – on the sight on Natasha’s hands working you into some kind of putty or the woman herself, whose smug grin and furrowed brow are almost intimidating in their determination.

“M-mommy,” you gasp out, legs trying to shut themselves involuntarily, stopped only by the woman between your legs. Your toes curl, spine bending forward as the white-hot pleasure in your stomach curls itself tighter and tighter around itself. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-!”

You come with a guttural moan you almost don’t recognize as yours – a sound so animalistic you wonder if Natasha had rewired your brain into some pre-human thing incapable of speech. It’s hot, so hot, and in your post-orgasmic bliss you wonder if life could get any better.

“How you feeling, Bunny?” Natasha asks, trying to find some signs of life behind your glazed-over eyes.

“So fucking good! I feel so good, Mommy!” you gasp out, mouth dry and lunges seemingly devoid of oxygen.

The woman above you just laughs, though, throws her beautiful head back and laughs and oh God – oh God you need to find it in you to tell her to stop doing that because you’ve only been dating for a few months and her beauty radiates with the power of the sun and you weren’t born with UV-protection in your retinas and if her light doesn’t burn you to a crisp first you think you’re going to fucking explode.

“I’m glad,” she tells you, running her now-wrinkled fingertips over the inside of your trembling thighs. Silence settles of you both as you feel your bones…vibrate? Or maybe that’s chest your heart again – the stupid thing incapable of handling this much joy and pleasure at the same time. It takes a long while for Natasha to speak again, not wanting to spook you in your fragile state. “Hey Bunny?” she asks, watching to make sure you’d heard her. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

You give her a small “okay,” body still as she climbs off your bed.

You’re boneless – inert as you lay there with your arms flat at your sides and your legs in the same bent position Natasha had left them in before she had oh-so meanly abandoned you. Just as before, your chest rises and falls as if a forty-pound weight was pressing into it – each inhale painful and a struggle with the exhales happening all too quickly. It’s unfamiliar, being so satiated. Being with men had left you feeling fine, maybe a little out of breath, but with Natasha? God, you wouldn’t be able to move if the fire alarms went off; you’d just lay here, vision fuzzy around the edges as the smell of smoke came through the air vents. (Then again, given the state of Natasha’s arms, you think she’d be able to carry you out of your apartment building just fine.)

She returns – just as she said she would – with a mug of cold water that she holds as if it was priceless and not something you thrifted for less than a dollar when you had moved from your last apartment.

“Thanks,” you croak as she hands it to you, watching as you sit up and wince ever so slightly as your sensitive pussy presses into the sheets. You’ll need to change them – and soon – but somehow that feels like an impossible task as you gulp down what, in your state, tastes closer to ambrosia than the shit in your Brita. When you’re finished Natasha takes the now empty mug from you, placing it on your nightstand before hugging you to her chest and pushing you back until you hit the sheets once more, lying down next to you and throwing her arm around your waist.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks again, a part of her always worried about you no matter how much euphoria pooled in your veins.

You nod as you curl into her side, leaving a kiss on her collarbone as you listen to her heartrate slow as it returns its resting pace. It’s calming, that combined with the feeling of her fingers twirling in your mused hair lulling you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff/reader #black widow x reader #lukis writes stuff #lukis does commissions #this was actually v fun to write i miss fluff lmao

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drakewalkerfantasy · 4 years ago

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The art of love. (Tatum x F!MC) NSFW

Summary: When all the truth is out, they are finally free to love each other. At least just today... at least just now. But will it be enough to protect them from Mrs. President or will the truth finally get out?

Words: 3586

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. Huge thank you for @jamespotterthefirst for proofreading and reading this for me and being amazingly supportive friend. Also huge thank you for @choices-bound for being supportive and also reading this before I published.

Raiting: NSFW/18+

**Warnings: SEX/LOTS OF IT/PLEASE NO MINORS**

See Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Even before she could finish the sentence... even before she could say anything else, his lips were on hers. Kissing her hard and deep. Desperate. The way she’d never been kissed before, teeth and tongue clashing, making her toes curl and her mind freeze. Silencing all the thoughts that she had only a fraction of a second prior. He tasted like a mixture of citrus and coffee, and she moaned, when her tongue met his. Feeling how his growl reverberated against her lips, while his hands roughly gripped her hips pulling her even closer to his body. Rocking it against hers. His kisses, wet and sloppy. His fingers digging into the softest skin he ever felt. And his voice, rasped and husky, coming in short huffs between kisses, making her wetter than she ever was.

“I’m not sure if I can hold back,” he groaned in desperation when Claire's hips grounded into him. Her head falling back with a whimpering noice. Feeling how her insides went to mush, when his lips slide against her neck. Leaving wet trails and tiny bites against its column. His hands shaky on her hips, and she could feel how the barely constrained desire was seeping through his voice. “I... I didn’t have anyone for awhile... I just... I couldn’t, not when you were so close... not when the only one I wanted was you,” his voice low and husky, making her toes curl.

“Then don’t... please don’t hold back,” she chocked out, her voice needy and pleading. Wanting to confess that it was the same for her. That he was all she wanted. That he was all she daydreamed about for days... weeks... month. For too long to be able to hold back. But instead she let out a shuddering breath. Making an animalistic growl to leave his throat.

Instantly, and without changing positions he rolled her onto her back. Her legs fell open before she locked them behind his back. Her hand moving to his neck, pulling him so close that it seemed that every part of her body melted into his. Her other hand was already working on his belt, feeling the throbbing proof of his desire against her belly. Wanting nothing more but to give herself fully to the man she loves. To the man she always loved. And to the man who suffered so much because he loved her. Always loved her.

Her fingers gently grazed the front of his pants, while dragging the zipper down, causing his body to jerk slightly with a sharp inhale. Roughly he grounded his hips into hers as if warning her not to toy with him. As if telling her that if she will test him some more the barely restrained control that is left in him will snap and he will have her. Right here... right now... like that. Willing and desperate. Hard and rough. The low animalistic growl that left his throat and the tightened grip on her hips affirming the statement he made just a moment ago. And the rasped words that left his lips, that continued devouring her neck, were the final affirmation she needed.

He wanted her... He desired her... He craved her...

“Stop,” he growled. His teeth snapping against Claire’s neck in a warning, before he drew a long lick along it. “I can barely hold back from not to fuck you...”

“I said, don’t,” Claire moaned, throwing her head back, arching her back and straining like a string along Tatum’s body. Her legs still firmly locked behind him, while she lifted her hips up grinding herself against his hardness. Wanting nothing else, but to be his, to finally let herself go and be loved by the man who suffered so much only because he was unfortunate enough to love her. She could still feel his pain and heartache, and all the ways he tried to hold back as if afraid for them both to get hurt and burned. As if afraid to harm her. And it hurt her in the way she never felt before. And she loved him... oh God... how much she loved him. All of him. How stoic he was... how strong he was, despite everything her mother brought him through... and how loyal he was to the people he loved... and he loved her. And oh God... how much he loved her.

She felt how her tears dried out by his kisses. Felt how his hand slowly dragged her dress up... higher and higher. Felt how he shifted between her legs slightly lifting his hips up, finally letting her push his suit pants down his body, kicking them all the way off. Her eyes widened when they slid to his hardness, noticing how his length stood proudly between his legs. Gasping in surprise, when she realised he wore no underwear. Her mouth watering, and she could feel how the heat between her legs intensified. He looked good... so good that she could feel how her desire spiked up just from the look at his length. Her lips dried out, and the tip of her tongue ran over them, making them glisten again. Her heart pounded violently inside her chest, and her hand ran toward his hardness wanting... needing to touch him. But before she could his strong hand grabbed hers and pinned them to the windows bench’s mattress. The low animalistic growl emanated from the depth of his throat, when her hips rose, thrusting against his throbbing hardness. And all what separated them was a thinnest material of her underwear dampened by her juices.

He kissed her vigorously, loosening his tie. His hands working on the tight knot around his neck, letting go of her hands. Letting her work on the buttons of his white shirt. Her movements were so desperate that he could hear the quiet thud of the buttons hitting the floor. His hands as desperate as hers working impatiently on the thin material of her panties, ripping them off with one rough tug. His hands reaching the hem of her white summer dress and in one fluid motion jerking it off her. His shirt and blazer joined it only a second later on the floor. And when his eyes finally met hers they were already pitch black and dilated, like two dark coals burning in the dim lights. His eyes roaming her body hungrily, while hers taking him in. And by the time their gazes met again they barely could breath from desire and heat rising between them.

Their lips colliding in a passionate all consuming kiss, while Claire’s hips rolled against Tatum’s hardness making him groan in desperation before pulling slightly away. His gaze taking her in, feeling as if all air was knocked out of him. Feeling as if he cannot breath. Her lips puffy from the force of his kisses, her eyes hooded and her breasts rose and fell unevenly with each breath she took. In this moment he knew that if they would not slow down now he would be undone just by looking at her, just from the look in her deep chocolate eyes. She was so breathtakingly beautiful... and she was all his. Finally his.

He could feel how his body shook slightly from barely constrained desire. His forehead dropping to hers and his chest heaving with the heavy breaths. His eyes half closed and their breaths mingled.

“Are you okay?” whispered Claire, running her hand soothingly over his back.

“Yes...,” he breathed. “I just... need a moment,” he added after a beat, while his hand moved to her cheek, swiping a thumb across it and kissing her gently. “You are beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. So close to hers that she could feel his hot breath fanning against them.

His hand moving slowly down her body and toward her core. So tantalisingly slowly that every brush and touch of his fingers sent a current of electricity through her, making her gasp and moan, and crave for more. He trailed his fingers down her neck, past the collarbone. His thumb brushing the undersides of her full breasts, his fingertips circling lightly around her nipples before sliding lower... and lower... and lower. Until he finally felt how her hips rose up impatiently begging for his touch. Waiting for him to oblige until finally he tantalisingly slowly ran his fingers over her folds, parting her gently and pushing inside. He could feel how her juices coated his fingers, while he started to move them slowly in and out of her. His thumb pressed firmly against her swollen nub, drawing tight circles over it. Feeling how her body trembled from his touch and her moans came as a breathy sighs.

“Oh God,” he sighed, feeling how her body shook along with his. Her thighs tensed, and she gasped while her eyes widened, feeling how her body started to tremble under his touch.

“Tatum...,” she wept almost pleadingly, throwing her head back, while his fingers touched her in the way no one else’s ever did. His thumb rolling over her clit as his long digits urged in and out of her not stopping even for a second until he felt her to fall apart. He could feel how her body tensed clutching at him desperately, the soft cry leaving her throat, while he held her close to his body gently helping her back down from her heights.

“Are you okay?” he whispered tenderly after a moment, brushing away the dump stray of her hairs. His fingers lingering just for a little bit longer, before pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, patiently waiting for her reply.

“Uhuh...,” she managed weakly, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Her fingers tracing across his abs, wanting him so much that it was hard to breathe. Wanting him to know that this is so much more than just physical and so much more than words could ever describe. “I just...,” she breathed, barely able to open her eyes to meet his. “I just... I... I never came so quickly. Oh my God, I cannot believe you made me come so embarrassingly quickly. And also so hard... it was mind blowing. I... I never had mind blowing orgasms,” she babbled, feeling how he nuzzled into her neck, chuckling softly. And the light blush crept up her neck colouring her cheeks. But the desire never faded, burning even stronger within her. Her digits inching closer and closer to his hardness, the question itching on the tip of her tongue. “Do you... do you have a condom?” She finally blurted, feeling how the blush on her cheeks only deepened from how wanton and desperate she have sounded. Feeling how his fingers closed around her wrist, moving it to the mattress, pinning her slightly against it.

“N-no..., I... I don’t... I didn’t think that...,” he replied with a growl. Frustrated at himself that he didn't think about that before, so hard already that it was difficult to move. Angry at himself that if she wouldn’t ask he wouldn’t even remember about protection. Wanting her so much, that he even didn’t care.

“But do you... do you want to?”

“Yes… Oh God, YES,” he whispered the answer in a low growl, making her body shift against him with desire. “But we... we cannot... we don’t have... Oh God,” he moaned, when she raised her head slightly, just enough for her lips to graze along his collarbone sucking at his skin before letting it go with a pop. He felt how his hardness throbbed impatiently against her thigh not able to think clearly anymore. “I want you so goddamn much. I always wanted you... But I never assumed that we... I even couldn’t have dreamed that we ever would... I...,” blurted Tatum, his head falling in the crook of her neck inhaling her sweet floral scent. His breath shallow and he groaned, cursing under his breath, feeling how her thighs squeezed his sides. Sending tiny currents of electricity down his spine. Her voice was so tiny and soft and low that he barely caught the next words that left her lips. The words that made him throb and pulse ten times harder than prior.

“We still can... I’m on pills... it’s... it’s safe.”

“Are you...,” he swallowed hard, raising his head to meet her eyes. The desire and fear that she will regret it later, fighting each other, while his voice as a husky whisper left his throat. “Are you sure? I don’t want to...”

“Please... I need you...” she spoke quietly, the last words got lost by his lips pressed to hers. Kissing her so gently that she could swear that she dreamed it all, if not for a weight of his body pressed to hers. Her lips opened willingly, when his tongue swiped at the seam of them. Kissing her deeply and slowly, while his free hand guided his cock to her pussy.

He entered her slowly... slower than she expected. Making her hips rise in desperation for more... for deeper thrusts, but instead of complying she felt him gently placing his hands on her hips holding them down to the mattress. Pushing painstakingly slowly into her, feeling how warm and damp she was for him already. Feeling how perfect she felt around him. His lips running from her lips to her temple, pressing softly to it with a quiet growl. His eyes closed, trying to suppress his desire to thrust harder, to move faster. Not sure if he would be able to hold any longer if he would move even an inch. She could feel how his muscles tensed flexing under her touch until he finally moved inside her, thrusting deeper, sharper. His mouth moving back to hers pressing harder against it, swallowing a sharp inhale of air leaving her throat.

“Are you... are you okay?” he asked with concern lacing his voice. His eyes still closed and his breathing shallow against her lips. His hands stretched, shaking slightly, while he held his body up, desperately trying not to put his whole weight on her and not to thrust.

“Yes... and don’t you dare to stop now,” she breathed against his lips and this was all the command he needed. His hips started to rock against her, picking up the pace, making her moan and gasp against his lips. Making her body alight with so many sensations, while he thrusted inside her over and over, filling her fully, that she thought she will explode. Her toes curl, and her mind go fuzzy. Making her forget her own name while the pleasure overflowed her. Almost there... almost falling apart... almost exploding. But still not enough. Knowing that he still held back the part of him she so wanted him to unleash after getting a taste of it through his kisses. Rough and hard and all consuming. The ones that made her body, alight and burning in so many ways but one, and in the way it never did with anyone else. With the groan of desperation she tightened her legs and rolled him onto his back, taking him by surprise. Her knees firmly settled by either side of him, and her hands firmly splayed over his chest. His cock slipping deeper inside her, making her gasp from how full and complete she now felt. Her hips lifted hesitantly up before lowering herself back onto him, feeling how his hips lifted to meet hers halfway. Their bodies slap together with the groans, both too far gone to hold back. Both too tired of pretending.

His hands coming to her hips squeezing them harder than he planned to. His eyes never leaving hers, while his hips thrusted up to meet hers once again. The soft moan breaking out from her on a gasp, and he could feel how her pussy clenched him harder, taking him so unbelievably deep. He gritted his teeth with the growl when he felt how her pussy squeezed him before releasing, and it took everything in him not to come first when she rode him like that with abandon. Her head was thrown back and her lips parted, while her breasts bounced, taking his breath away. Wanting nothing more but to make her come first, before fully getting lost in her.

His hand squeezed her thigh harder, begging her to slow down. Feeling that if she doesn't, he would be undone in a matter of seconds. The grunts leave his lips, while the thumb of the other hand pushed between her lips, pressing firmly down on her clit. Making her gasp and shudder.

His thumb running slowly over her nub. And he felt how her thighs tightened, squeezing around his hips as she kneeled above him. Feeling how her entire body was buzzing with pleasure, so close... so incredibly close, but still not enough.

His hips were shifting back and forth. His hand squeezing her hip, controlling the way her body moved… just a little bit... not the whole way... at least not yet. The head of him pressed against the inside of her, making her gasp a little bit more often, and then gasp again as his thumb shifted, just a fraction, but enough to make the world still. Her body tensed, while everything slowed around her before she shuddered and the thousands of fireworks exploded in front of her eyes. Blinding, scorching, burning everything around her. And she felt how the silent cry left her throat, and her hands gave way, not able to hold herself straight. Her body limply collapsing on top of his. Feeling how his hands protectively wrapped around her frame, holding her to him as his hips rise to meet hers. Finally letting go, not able to hold back anymore.

“Fuck...,” grunted Tatum, before pushing so much deeper inside her. Thrusting forcefully, while his back arched. His forehead pressed firmer to hers, before their lips met in a hot, messy, sloppy kiss. And he could feel how his hands tensed on her hips, trembling slightly against her hot skin. And before he knew it his cock started to pulsate inside her, buried deep within her warm, welcoming walls. The hot thick ropes of his cum spurting hard inside her and she felt how the sensation alone sent her spiralling ones again, making them both cry into their kiss.

After the moment, spent and exhausted they laid together on the window’s seat. Claire’s body curled against Tatum’s. Her ear pressed to his chest listening to the quiet thumping of his heart. His hands wrapped around her, while he dropped the soft blanket over their naked bodies. And she once again cradled closer to him, dreading to let him go, not wanting to come back to reality. The reality that hurt them both, to the cruel reality that almost took him away from her.

Her skin still throbbing with pleasure while he absentmindedly traced soft patterns on her forearm. "Wow…" she murmured finally, burying her face in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent so close and so familiar. “It was... wow.”

"Yes... it was wow," Tatum chuckled breathlessly against the top of her head. "I didn't think I will be able to hold as long as I did... and you... you definitely didn’t make it any easier,” he confessed, bringing her closer to him. “Are you Okay?" he asked after a while, feeling how the mood between them shifted. Knowing Claire far too well to miss how her brows creased slightly and her lips pouted.

“I'm just thinking. You said that the intel you received said that this destination was safe.... Did you ever find out why there were snipers and why they were aiming at your truck?”

“No...,” he shrugged his gaze sombered and his jaw tensed, while his fingers lazily dragged over her side, leaving a small affectionate kiss to her temple. “I and Spencer’s wife... we tried... But we got nothing. Later,I spoke about that with the rehabilitation guy I had after I came back. He also lost friends. And he also felt guilty... as if somehow it was our fault. And I still... I still feel as if somehow all of this was my fault. And Eli, he... he still trying to help me. Still looks out for me.”

“It’s not...,” said Claire turning herself in his arms to meet his eyes. Her eyes full of panic as if any minute he could push her away. As if any minute he could realise something and leave her... this time for good. Under the wrong pretence that he may hurt her as well, as if him leaving her wouldn’t hurt any less. “Ugh,” she huffed in frustration. “I’m so angry... so, so angry... It's like all of this happening because of me. And I... I feel so selfish... as all that I can think is that thank God you are alive. And you are mine. And I... I cannot lose you again. Tate, I just cannot... Not again. Not ever,” earnestly whispered Claire, pressing herself to him. Hiding her face on his chest. Feeling how his hands tensed slightly around her. Bringing her so, so much closer. That it seemed that their bodies melted together. Making themselves a promise that no matter what they will alway be together. No matter what they will never let anyone break them apart. Even if it meant to hide their feelings in public. Even if it meant to sneak together at night.

Tagging: @choices-bound @jamespotterthefirst @mercury84choices @k2624

#tatum mendoza #tatum x mc #tatum x f!mc #foreignaffairs #choices foreign affairs #nsfw*#ns*fw #nsf*w

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humans4vampires · 4 years ago

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Tanya {Edward Cullen x Tanya}

I’ve teamed up with the love of my life @little-diable to bring you the smut you never dreamed Edward Cullen capable of. A co-written three-part series, born from this short story, detailing the love affairs of Edward before Bella, because there are no 104-year-old virgins in this house.

Summary: Edward sees Tanya in a new light, sparking a reaction neither was expecting.

Warnings: smut, 18+

Snow was falling from the sky, adding to the bone chilling cold that surrounded them. Teasingly, Tanya would pick up her pace as they’d comb through the Stefansson Sound, hunting in Alaska's rough nature. Edward and Tanya often hunted alone together. Edward and the Cullens had been with the Denalis for a few years, and though he knew how Tanya felt for him, he was still comfortable enough with her to let his dead heart rest.

“Look”, Tanya pointed up, eyes focused on the auroras, watching them dance in the night sky. A smile tugged on her lips; she had always been entranced by them, in love with the different colours of that magical experience. Edward had seen the aurora borealis plenty of times in his long life, but this night, seeing them through Tanya’s thoughts, he felt something new. Edward couldn’t rip his eyes away from her, couldn’t stop himself from invading her carefree thoughts. The glimmer in her eyes was filled with childlike wonder.

Tanya turned to Edward to gauge his reaction to the colors, but found his eyes on her instead. If her heart could stop, it would have. Tanya had been into Edward from the first moment they’d met. She struggled to control the thoughts, constantly picturing his lips on hers or getting tangled together between the sheets; the slight hope always lingered in her chest, the hope that Edward would feel just the same. Though years had passed and the two had managed a friendship, Tanya never lost that hope, that desire.

It would be a lie, if Edward was to say that he had never thought about her, the pale body of hers buried underneath his as he’d fuck her into oblivion. He wasn’t one for giving into his instincts, the worry of hurting a woman, no matter if she was immortal or not, would always hold him back, would make him doubt himself all over again. There were other pains, beyond the physical, that he had left with other women in the past. He couldn’t bear to do that to Tanya.

She looked at him, eyes wide and golden, that desire plunging through her mind and body as Edward looked at her in a new and unfamiliar way. Edward reached out to her then, taking one of her small hands in two of his. He moved her hand to watch the auroras colors bounce off her porcelain skin; it didn’t quite sparkle, but a low glow glinted off of her prismatic skin in hues matching the sky. Edward dropped her hand and brought his eyes back to hers again.

“Tanya”, he rasped out her name, pale fingers cupping her cheeks, tentatively wrapping his arms around her frame. They stood there idly for a moment, staring into each other’s golden eyes, when suddenly Edward’s lips were crashing against hers. She froze for a moment, wondering if he was truly kissing her. As Edward tightened his grip on her sides, she finally began to move her lips, tongue brushing against his, getting lost in the kiss. All of her dreams and fantasies of this moment rushed her mind and flooded Edward’s head.

Edward couldn’t stop himself from shoving her back, pressed against the snow as he hovered above her, connecting their lips once again. For a moment, Tanya’s eyes wandered back up to the sky, an unfamiliar warmth was flooding through her. In that very moment, she thought, she felt like she was human once again. His lips nibbled on her jaw, smiling against her skin as her thoughts rang through his mind. He had never been with a woman like this.

Her hands tugged on his belt, legs almost automatically wrapping themselves around her waist, pulling Edward closer as he undid the buttons of her trousers. “I - don’t think I can stop myself, if we go any further”, with knitted eyebrows he pressed his forehead against hers, golden eyes catching hers. No, he couldn’t hurt Tanya, and it would hurt her now, to do this when he was still unsure. But god, she was so beautiful, so tempting.

“Don’t stop”, she gasped. A growl rumbled through Edward as his resolve shattered. Like a starved animal he ripped her trousers down her legs, fingers dancing along the outlines of her panties, pushing them aside to slip through her slit, coating his fingertips with her arousal.

The sound of her moaning his name echoed through the darkness; by now the auroras had disappeared, only a few stars were twinkling in the sky. They hadn’t noticed. “Edward”, Tanya tugged him in for a kiss, “I need you”. A groan bubbled out of him, made him pause for a moment, deeply inhaling the air he didn’t really need to breathe, trying to collect his own, confusing thoughts. But no words left him as he watched Tanya unbutton his trousers, pushing his boxers down his legs to expose his hard length.

He fit perfectly into her hands, fingers dancing along the skin as the auroras had gently glided through the night sky. Tanya couldn’t contain herself, pleading in her mind that this moment would last forever. “Don’t tease me Tanya”, an animalistic growl rumbled through the vampire, lips meeting hers as he parted her folds with his tip, giving the beautiful woman a few moments to adjust. She nodded her head, gave him the approval to move, to stretch her walls with every thrust of his.

Both were getting lost in each other's embraces, in each other's taste, high on the wave of lust that crashed upon them, followed by their sounds of pleasure that spilled from their lips. “Faster Edward, please”, Tanya's nails scratched his neck, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, skin slapping as he picked up his pace, desperate to push them both over the edge. Edward wasn’t one for many words, would only let a few sounds roll off his tongue as he explored her body.

“Oh god, right there”, she tried to pull him closer, praying that he’d find that one spot again, pushing her closer and closer into the arms of her release. Soon enough he felt her walls clench, squeezing him, trying to keep him in place. Tanya couldn’t properly think straight, eyes rolling back as she gave into her orgasm, not caring about the volumes of her sounds that reverberated through Alaska's night. Edward wasn’t quite there yet, he kept on pounding in and out of her, riding her through her high as he kept his eyes focused on her trembling frame.

Tanya slowly began to calm down, though her walls were still tightly clung around him, patiently waiting for Edward to finish, to tumble over the edge as he’d release himself into her. He pressed his forehead against the crook of her neck, fangs grazing her skin as he moaned for Tanya, orgasm flooding through him, hot ropes of cum shooting out of him, perfectly filling her up. The sight of him like that pushed Tanya again, forcing her toward another climax.

How many times she had dreamed of Edward like this, how many times she had lost herself to the fantasy; was this real? Tanya couldn’t rationalize it. Edward heard her thoughts, realized that she was drawing near another orgasm and moved his hand to her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves. There was this deep pull inside of him, begging him to finally give in, to break down the walls he had built up around him, protecting himself and everybody around him from his primal side.

But the way Tanya stared at him, as if she was admiring a piece of art, eyes full of something he couldn’t truly decipher, hands squeezing his skin, suddenly all worries seemed to fade away. Edward enclosed one hand around her throat, gripping her tighter as he brought her closer and closer to her release. “Oh god Edward I-”, Tanya cried out, eyes squeezed shut, the knot in her lower belly was about to snap, about to push her into the arms of her orgasm, but Edward’s raspy, restrained voice made her freeze, “no, not yet”.

He didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to give his mind a chance to overthink and doubt himself. “I don’t think I can-”, another moan rumbled through her, interrupting her once again. Tanya weaved her hands through his hair, pushing him down against her lips, tongues fighting for victory as he kept on burying himself deep into her heat. Her walls were clenched around him, squeezing him with every thrust of his, it wouldn’t take him much longer to give in and release himself into her tightness. A few moans and groans made it past his lips, eyes fluttering close as he felt his body tingle, he hadn’t felt something this strong in a very long time, for a spur of a moment his mind wandered back to all those years with Diana, his time with Heidi; not once had he felt like this.

Edwards skin slapped against hers, the sound urged him on, made him clench his jaw as he finally pressed out a small “cum”. Tanya had almost missed the word he spoke, too far gone to focus on anything besides the way his tip would nudge against her sweet spot. Her cries reverberated through the night, made a smirk tug on Edwards lips as he rode her through her high, patiently waiting for her walls to relax around him as he gave in, hot ropes of cum filling her up.

Edward pushed himself off of Tanya then. The two laid naked in the snow, looking up to the sky in silence, both humming with satisfaction. Edward took a few steadying breaths as he gazed up at the stars. He tried to block out Tanya’s thoughts, they were too much for him to bear. Tanya was elated; more pleased in this moment than she ever had been in her long immortal life. Edward was satisfied, but remorseful. He knew now that this would continue and he hoped that with time, he would come to feel the way Tanya did for him. Perhaps the great love he heard in the minds of his family was still ahead for him and Tanya. Perhaps, he thought, he would learn to love her.

___

Chiara is a magical and ever-enchanting writer who is entirely responsible for this smutty little addition to my short story. Check her out at @little-diable. Parts two and three are on their way.

You can read the short that inspired this work here: Unrequited

#edward cullen #edwardcullen #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen smut #edward cullen x tanya #tanya denali #tanya twilight #twilight imagine #bookofthels #twilightfanfic #twilight renaissance #twilight fanfiction #twilight resurgance #twilight revival

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fvrxdrm · 4 years ago

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A Million Nightmares and One Dream (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

RE2make!Leon Warning: Smut, Dry-humping, oral sex

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Have you ever had a nightmare? One that feels real? So real that you couldn’t figure out what was reality and what was not? Well, I have. I still am, actually.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve started running away from whatever the hell those things were. Two weeks trying to survive this hellhole of a place called Raccoon City, and two weeks praying that I would wake up from this nightmare...but I’m still not awake.

It made me question if I’m even asleep or not. Maybe I’m dead? Maybe I’m in another universe? Maybe my mind’s just going crazy? The answer I don’t know and I don’t think I’m going to get that answer anytime soon.

It’s never-ending. Whenever I close my eyes and open them again, I still see the same incubus in front of me: lifeless eyes that would stare back at me, pale and cold skin that would touch me every now and then, thick red liquid that would gush out from every part of their bodies, their growls that would destroy the eerie silence of the cold, dark night, their teeth digging into another person’s flesh as they mindlessly enjoy their gruesome meal, puddles and marks of blood that were scattered and smeared all over the city, the growing flames from vehicles that were crashed in every structure and fellow car, and the lack of light that made it a tad bit difficult to move around without being grabbed by any of those undead.

This had to be a nightmare, right? I had to be asleep. This isn’t possible...or is it?

It was hard running around, desperate to save my own life that’s at stake with barely anything to defend myself with. But despite that, there was this one thing, a person, perhaps, that came out of nowhere, just like those hellish monsters just roaming around, finding their next dinner, except this person wasn’t someone I was scared of, I was in love with him.

Leon Scott Kennedy, a rookie cop who was supposed to start his first day a week ago. He got a call from the police station to stay away from the city but his curiosity got the better of him and that curiosity got him involved in this nightmare.

During that shit-show we were in, we had been chased around by a fucking giant in a trench coat and fedora, met a woman who broke my heart by kissing the man I’ve caught feelings for and then betrayed us, almost got killed by a beast with a huge-ass eye on its right arm, and then we escaped the city using a train together with a little girl named Sherry and a college gal named Claire.

We found ourselves inside two hotel rooms with Claire and Sherry sharing one and Leon and I sharing the other. It felt kind of weird to me for some reason. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I have feelings for and we’re literally in the same room. With one bed. We’re going to be sleeping next to each other!

Calm down, Y/N. You’re just going to sleep, nothing else.

It’s just...it doesn’t help that I’m in a tank top and underwear only with no pants or bra on while Leon was wearing a sweatpants with no shirt on and just went commando.

Get your shit together, Y/N! Tomorrow you’ll have a new set of clothes.

“Y/N?” Leon called mumbled my name beside me in a sleepy voice.

It’s been an hour I think since we got in bed and Leon immediately fell asleep in exhaustion as soon as his body flopped on the soft mattress while I didn’t...I couldn’t for some reason even though I’m very tired myself.

I turned my head around to look at the young man beside me who propped himself up before laying his upper body on my chest.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered in my ear, his hot breath fanning against my skin causing shivers to run down my spine and the little hairs on my neck to stand up. I let out a shaky sigh.

“Nothing. Just thinking”, I managed to breathe out after a few seconds of thinking about my response.

“About?”

You?

“Nothing you should be concerned about”, Leon lifted his head up and looked down at me with his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Now I’m more concerned”

“Leon”

“Y/N”, My E/C orbs began staring at his blue ones with the same intensity as the man on top of me, keeping myself from averting my gaze towards his plump lips that looked so soft.

Ada got lucky, huh?

Alas, my brain couldn’t take it anymore and just commanded my optics to shift my gaze towards his lips that were being moisturized by his saliva-covered tongue. I continued to stare at it for a few more seconds, admiring the art that I don’t know if I would be seeing again in front of me, before looking at Leon’s eyes again. They were half-lidded now, his orbs now focused on my own parted lips, just like what I did before.

Is he copying me?

Slowly, he began leaning down, his eyes still fixated on my mouth that began releasing more and more air as his head lowered itself more. My heartbeat was raising each millisecond and his hot breath was tickling my face.

Closer and closer...and then...

Our lips touched. It was like what I expected it to be: smooth and soft like a baby’s butt.

My hand found its way towards the nape of his neck before pulling him closer as I was enjoying the feeling of his lips moving against mine, his tongue dancing with my own in a smooth tango, and the sound of what we were doing bouncing off the walls surrounding us.

All of the horrors that’s been glued to our heads were gone in that moment. Vanished. Now we were in a dream, a dream we never wanted to escape from. A dream we wished was forever. But that’s impossible, just like how a nightmare always ends, and that’s why we made this dream the best we’ve ever had so far.

Leon pulled away and spread my legs before making himself comfortable in between them, his warms hands still planted on my knees.

“Is it okay if I do this?” Leon rolled his hips against mine, his cock that was covered by the slightly thick fabric of his sweatpants gliding smoothly against my my thin fabric-covered clit, the pleasing sensation causing me to close my eyes and bite my lip as a small gasp left my mouth. I nodded my head a few times until I heard Leon chuckle above me and roll his hips against mine again.

Leon leaned down again, not stopping his hip movements, before his lips flattened against my neck, lightly pressing kisses on every patch of skin that was exposed to him while my hands found its way on the back of his neck once more, this time, my fingers combed through his soft blonde hair and my hand lightly balled itself into a fist as his movements became faster and faster, causing a loud creaking sound to resonate throughout the small room as the bed below us began moving with Leon.

Leon groaned from above me, his lust-filled voice muffled by my skin as he proceeded to leave some love bites on my neck.

“I’m close, Y/N”

As soon as he said that, his actions grew quicker than before, his desperation to come undone flooding his head as he did so.

The pleased sounds coming from our mouths increased their volume with us not caring if there were other people hearing us from the other side of these thin walls. Leon’s groans became animalistic growls and my pitch became higher. My grip on Leon’s locks became tighter which only added to the hedonism he felt, the bittersweet sensation causing him to come fast and hard, his white fluids staining his grey pants.

When he noticed that I hadn’t come yet, he lowered himself down to where his head was peaking through the valley between my legs before looking at me softly.

“May I?”

I nodded my head as I bit my bottom lip that was bruise with all the kissing and biting we were doing, the anticipation rising as my thoughts scrambled inside my head, knowing what was bound to happen next.

Leon placed a sole kiss on the skin just above the brim of my underwear, his eyes still trained on me, before letting his teeth pin the thin cotton fabric between them and winked at me as he began sliding the material down my legs in an antagonizing pace.

“Leon”, I whispered sensually and hungrily, my tone reflecting on the need I was feeling.

Once the nether garments were off and were thrown out of the way, Leon shifted his focus towards the glistening wet lips just below my hips, his eyes slightly widened as he saw how wet I was but his astonished and amused look soon changed into something more lustful and concupiscent, his once blue orbs that were now mostly covered black indicating his own hunger.

The tip of his tongue finally touched my sensitive nub, my body jolting a little bit at the sudden action but nevertheless, it felt good, great even. He licked a long stripe from the bottom up until the tumescent pearl that’s been begging to be touched by the man between my legs.

My fingers found their way through Leon’s hair again, tugging it more and more as the sexual gratification grew more and more intense the closer I got to my high.

“Leon”

And now, it’s been nineteen years since that incident. Leon and I thought after escaping that hellhole that that was the end of it but nope. The government forced us to work for the USSTRATCOM and then after a few more years the new president recruited us to the new organization he found called the DSO and we’ve been sent to missions after missions involving B.O.W.s and the like.

The only good thing that happened throughout the years of fighting this bullshit was Leon and I got married! He proposed to me after finishing our mission in the Eastern Slav Republic and eventually got married a year later. Crazy, right? We didn’t have a kid though as we would only put him/her in danger but sex was still there, only had to take my pills regularly AND we actually adopted Sherry after getting out of Raccoon so that’s a plus.

“Hey, Chris!” Leon called the BSAA Silver Daggers’ captain’s name and watched as he turned his head around to face him.

“Yeah?”

“How long can we keep going on like this?”

“I don’t know. I never make plans that far ahead”, Chris replied as a soft smile tugged on his lips.

Leon just chuckled in response before looking at me and taking my hand, his fingers lacing with mine as he did so.

Yep. A million nightmares and one dream.

#leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon kennedy x you #leon #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon+kennedy+imagine

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decayandfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

You show me the man and I’ll show you the rule.

Tomura thinks he knows nothing about beauty, but then she proves him wrong.

(He thought her pretty before already, but after seen it…he concludes she’s the most beautiful, terrific thing he’s ever seen. Not that he would tell her that.)

A feral dangerous creature living inside of her with no other match.

No other but him.

Oh...you have no idea...She told him.

It happens so fast. One moment she’s there, sitting in front of her laptop, pretty and quiet and serene. All harmony and light, resting softly under the sunlight, between her dumb succulents and the spices that fill her home. Then he can hear Dabi’s caustic laugh and the wrong words. He’s disrespectful, an instigator, skilled in the art of making others lose their composure like is his favorite game.

He hears the foul words, the berating, and the mocking aimed to him, while she sits wide eyed and impossible flustered by the kitchen table.

Dabi smirks triumphant, like he always does after giving everyone a piece of his drama and Tomura watches him, wincing, reminding himself again that Dabi is supposedly oldest than him and Toga, and yet he does his best to being an annoying brat.

Tomura knows better to just let him bark, his remarks mean nothing to him, he knows what he is, and he knows what he isn’t. He’s a freak, yeah. That too, but he isn’t a child anymore, so he let it slide, keeping his eyes glued to his phone arching an inquisitive brow, ready to just let it die there.

He just forgot about the stupid little stunts of bravery she has this tendency to commit. (An annoying dangerous trait that makes him chuckle with something akin to fondness.)

She’s having none of the bullshit, Dabi’s little remarks had fed her up after a whole week of spiteful teasing, her precious patience has run thin.

“blue eyes are a mutation too, so you are no one to talk about it.”

The moment she opens her mouth, Tomura feels something warm filling the hollow place where his dead heart should go and it’s so foreign to him that for a moment he panics and thinks (very stupidly) that maybe his energy drink-based diet is finally going to kill him, and he (barely in his sweet twenty’s) is having a stupid heart attack.

But the pain never comes, it’s just her, voicing a clever answer, defending him.

“A quirkless little bitch? Seriously, Dabi? Where you raised in a fucking barn that you know nothing but fuck this and bitch that?

He wants to make her shut it, but he can’t find the words. Not when her remarks are sharp and funny to hear. (Besides, her voice sounds so sweet when she’s throwing smart ass angry comments just to back him up.)

It warms him and enrages him equally. How dare she to defend him? He can speak for himself on his own and doesn’t need her to make any back up about an insult he doesn’t care for. Stupid pretty woman. Trying to shut Dabi, putting herself in danger for the likes of him...Is she insane? (later that day, he’ll conclude that she must be pretty fucking nuts to have them all in her home after all, but somehow the thought only makes him like her more.)

“yeah. I know stupid cunt too.”

Dabi likes to cause havoc and now he’s pissed, so he throws a vulgarity aimed at her. Tomura feels the hot pang of anger at the other man, because the offense is not only an insult, but also a lie. She’s not stupid nor a cunt. She's sharp as a knife and kind enough to share with them.

“Dabi, cut it out.” He warns with a grimace, and now the fight has everyone tense in the room.

“I’m sure you do. Pretty useful to describe yourself I bet.” She snarls showing her teeth, an angry frown darkening her features and Tomura swears her eyes begin changing color.

“you sure like to bet, like how you are betting I don’t burn you alive for being an annoying bitch.”

This time Tomura gets fucking furious, something animal revolving inside of him at the idea of Dabi threatening her. But the fight is escalating so fast, he can’t say anything before she answers back.

“Fuck off, Dabi. This might be shocking for you, but you don’t scare me.”

He wants to laugh at this, truly. Feisty little thing she is when angered, all her soft ways and nerd knowledge thrown out the window in a fit of cocky bickering and a part of him is living for the chaos of it.

“now, that’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

“Dabi, shut up!” Tomura growls irked with the way her hair has begun to float over her shoulders, now completely convinced that she’s not quirkless at all.

“I’m not the one insulting everyone just because I cannot deal with some fucking daddy issues.”

God fucking dammit woman, just shut up. He thinks frustrated, giving her a look worth a stab.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT” Dabi snarls before kicking the little table in the living room, breaking one of its legs with a loud crack.

“CUT IT OUT!” she screams this time, standing from her chair “I don’t have to know when it’s plainly obvious you have problems with authority.”

“you really think you are so clever, don’t you?” Dabi states, crossing the living room, aiming to her, so Tomura leaves his place in the corner to stand at her side without even thinking why.

“I know I am, asshole!”

Dabi stops his tracks, looming over her like a monster. His eyes scanning her face before looking at Tomura, who stands by her with his hands open in front of him in clear warning.

The black-haired man looks at her before moving to Tomura, his brows raised in surprise as he chuckles darkly.

Shigaraki hates the way he looks at him, like he knows his thoughts. Like he knows he’s been creeping into her room to watch her sleep and the sinister lustful visions that sometimes plague his dreams after some playful back and forth every time she defies him with some smart-ass comment.

“stupid woman. You should know better.”

And then…he just slaps the laptop out of the table; the computer smashing open against the cemented ground.

Tomura remembers this moment like one would remember the witness of a car crush or a catastrophe. A simple second enough to amaze him for a lifetime.

The way her eyes just ignite into scorching red lights shining like burning embers under her frown brow. Her hair floats free from gravity over her shoulders like a terrible chaotic crown as her mouth flash pearly teeth in a feral snarl.

He watches how she claws her right hand, fingers curling, knuckles tensing and Dabi is suddenly choking under the pressure of some raw power. His limbs twisting painfully in horrific motion and unnatural angles in complete agony.

A second later and before anyone could grasp what’s happening, her other hand pointing pinky, index and thumb to Compress, Toga and himself, keeping them frozen in their place, a strange rigid pressure making him feel like he’s full of cement and any movement will shatter his bones and snap his spine.

He can’t move, he can barely breathe. Feeling like if every fiber of his being, every muscle, every cord is solid hard under his skin, unavailing him to get away.

But he can watch, so he watches her terrified and amazed.

Her quirk is rare, and powerful and dangerous. But she keeps it locked away, sleeping soundly, safely caged inside her ribs, like the best hidden weapon, perfect for torturing bodies and bending wills. Buried deeply under her layers of kindness and humor.

One twitch of a finger, and Dabi’s neck would snap in two and they can do nothing but just watch when little blood vessels begin to burst in the white of his eyes as he pants desperate for air, his veins contorting furiously under the marred skin of his neck and the flames scatter in some random parts of his body without any control.

Tomura swears he can hear Dabi’s bones crackle under the invisible force as his spine bends backwards in a sickening angle.

And, as sudden as it begins, ends.

Her hair falls and her eyes are no longer red. Dabi breathes again falling to his knees and for a moment Tomura thinks he will cry out of pure fright.

For a moment he wonders if Toga and Compress want to cry too because that felt like certain death, but is sweet, somehow. Something within him squirms joyfully with the notion of her own violence. She is as dangerous as him, no damsel in distress, no little girl in need of care, no simple quirkless girl, but a horrifying woman. A dangerous and powerful creature with a quirk made for torment, just like-

He looks at her, just to find a sad disappointed face. A thick trail of blood began sliding silently from her nose, tainting the perfect bow of her lip. Only then he notices the bloodshot eyes and how the color has run from her face.

She stands quiet and bitter watching between her hands and Dabi trying to catch his breath. Her face giving away guilt and self-loathing (two feelings he’s very familiar with.) but unlike him, she is no tormentor, she grasps no joy in watching Dabi suffer, nor do she wish of making them quiver to the sight of her.

She is kind, and brave, and witty. Humorous girl, quick at wordplay and puns; buying vitamins and oranges for them and something about no one getting scurvy under her watch.

He wants to laugh hysterically at her sight because she is magnificent, and for a moment he thinks that the boy with the destructive touch and the girl with the tormenting gaze sounds like a hell of a name for rulers and his heart shivers in excitement, but she is crying and clutches her guilty hands against her chest and ask them to forgive her for using her quirk on them.

She didn’t mean to; she didn’t want to. She likes them all very much, so she promises she’ll never hurt them again, and somehow it reminds him of something, but he cannot place a finger on what exactly.

He feels the sorrow drowning him. A grudge so horrid it makes him want to vomit and scratch his neck raw because something in her resembles something in him, but he cannot really grasp the motive of such connection, only knowing it has something to do with the hands he carries around like a symbol of his own distress and a little black-haired boy crying in some familiar backyard.

The sound of the bathroom door startles him and she’s no longer in the living room, but he can hear the quiet sobbing coming from behind the door.

Finally, Dabi decides to just fall backwards against the cold floor, still panting, an arm over his eyes.

Only then Spinner breaks the dreadful silence and ask the question they all want to make.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

Chapter 10

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missdilucesco · 5 years ago

Text

Not Yet

Art by @venranae

Word count: 2.7k

Based on my head cannon that Shigaraki gets way too sensitive after his orgasm.

My immesurable thanks to @peppermint-tea-and-chill for editing it, you are the sweetest person ever and I problaby would never post it without your help.

Warnings: Light bondage, overstimulation and toture post-orgasm.

“Okay, this is getting stupid,” Shigaraki grunted from beneath you. “I’m not putting this thing on.”

You weren’t surprised by his complaints. To be honest, he was much more compliant than first expected. When you had first shown him the ropes, his ragged mouth opened only to degrade you, calling you a dirty pervert yet never resisting as his hands and legs were tied on the sides of the bed. However, the sight of the collar gave him second thoughts. It was just a simple black leather strip with metal attachments, but damn it would look good on him. His face held a shadow of worry, his lips pressed together almost in a little pout and a blush spread over the pale skin of his face and thin neck. It was cute how nervous he looked in his tipsy state.

“But the bet was that the loser would be the winner’s slave for the rest of the night. This is what I want for the night” You shook the black collar, a light jingling noise filling the air. “Are you going back on your word?”

Shigaraki settling instead for a fixed stare as if he were angry enough to seriously considering to kill you or not. Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but the murderous gaze hardly bothered you. Being the dangerous and wicked man he was, Shigaraki could end you at a moment’s notice, ropes or not. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the type to do things he didn’t want to do. If he was naked and tied to a bed with someone sitting on him, it was just another one of his many kinks and exactly where he wanted to be.

“Are you going to disappoint me…” You leaned over his skinny body, touching your naked chests together. You playfully nipped his earlobe and finished in a breathy whisper, “…Or are you going to be a good boy?”

“You can go to hell if you think I’ll ever put that on,” he snorted. This was obviously his attempt to intimidate you and take back control of the situation. “So why don’t you at least put that ass to use and ride my cock or untie me?”

Predictable. He was such a brat all the time. There was no way Shigaraki would be any different in bed, even if he was drunk. He had too much pride to give in so easily and being vulnerable was never a choice to him. If you wanted to be the dominant in the room, you needed to get him to understand that you hold the reins now and he has no say anymore. Feeling excitement growing in your loins, you put the collar aside and his eyes gleamed in victory. That wouldn’t last long.

“You know,” you drawled, hands traveling slowly up his naked chest, raising goosebumps on his arms and finally stopping to firmly encircle his throat. A grin splintered across Shigaraki’s face. He smiled thinking that this was your attempt to choke him, like you were merely a kitten trying to use your tiny claws. “It’s kinda cute how you think you can boss me around while tied down like a fucking whore”. You leaned forward with every word, using the weight of your body to apply more pressure to his neck. Shigaraki released a scratchy puff of air in alarm. You really were choking him.

Instantly, the muscular chords in his neck flex under your hands as he got more agitated, trying to break free from your fierce grasp to breathe. It was difficult to hold the strong son of a bitch down, but he was such a sight like that; his eyes filling with reflexive tears, his snarling mouth trying in vain to suck in any air, his head pushing away from you and into the mattress and his face getting redder with each passing second. For a moment, his raising pulse and warmth under your hands made you feel so powerful, like you could break him at any moment. You allowed yourself to fully bask in the power you had. It was as if he was such a little plaything and the air in his lungs was a gift, and you decided he didn’t deserve it right now.

“You are my pet and I will do as I please. If I want to put you in a collar and slap that pretty face, I will. If I want to bite you and draw blood, I will. Now stop being a brat and behave like the fucking boytoy you are” Your confident and demanding tone surprised even yourself. His cock twitched a few times under your ass, aroused at your degradation.

Loosing up your grip a little so you could better hear one of his animalistic moans, you began to grind on him to create the friction he desperately needed. An ache thrummed up your arms from the effort of keeping a consistent pressure on Shigaraki’s throat, but it was all worth to see his eyes rolling to the back of his skull and his agape mouth twitch into a smile that in anyone else’s eyes would be considered creepy. You felt a tremor of excitement. “What? You like this? Tomura, you’re a bigger slut than I imagined.”

Your heartbeat was running wild, beyond thrilled to finally be doing something you’ve always wanted to. Everything about his lewd reactions was too beautiful to stop now. You aggressively slammed your lips to his dry ones, swallowing his moans while never stopping the movement of your hips. This went on for a time before you decided maybe he deserved to breathe again. Pulling from the kiss, you slowly released him. Shigaraki coughed raggedly and sucked the air as a desperate dying man “Now, back to where we stopped earlier…”

With heaving breaths, he watched as you put the collar around his sore neck, red eyes burning deeply in yours.

“Color?” You asked, starting to genuinely worry that you had hurt him.

“Green.” He laughed dryly at your worried face.

“Good.” Smiling as well, you sweetly caress his face. Your fingertips tracing a path from his cheek to his neck, feeling up the scars and rough patches. God, the contrast of the black leather on his neck was gorgeous. The pair of you locked eyes as you tugged his collar, smiling at the thought of making him wear a cockring next time.

You kissed and licked around Shigaraki’s sensitive jaw line, making him shiver and yelp as your teeth sank in his flesh, coloring him with bites and hickeys, only slowing to a stop when his whole neck and chest were marked in hues of red and bite marks.

“I… love your pretty collarbones,” you said, kissing them, “and I love to mark you… so there’s no doubt about who you belong to.”

Your words of possessiveness seemed to excite Shigaraki further, causing him to shove his hips upwards sharply, desperately trying to get inside of you. You both gasped when the tip of his hard member slipped in.

“Ride me,” he demanded. The poor thing couldn’t go deeper on his own.

Your muscles coiled at how hard it was to resist that.

“If you want something, you have to ask for it.” Your voice may not have been as strong anymore, but you weren’t about to give up your upper hand. “Politely.”

Supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, you wiggled your hips to tease him. Shigaraki tried once again to thrust into you, but you moved away before he could, effectively making him lose his patience.

“Goddamnit, just fucking take it!”

“Just fucking ask, then.”

You sounded way more relaxed than you really were; you wanted to impale yourself on his cock so badly… but you wanted him to beg for it more.

“Fuck it- Please, ride me. Are you happy now?”

“No bad words. Try again.”

“Fuck you!”

Denying your own pleasure, you moved your pulsing hole away from him. He didn’t spare any curse as your warmth left him. Maybe you have been spoiling him through the relationship.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a bitch about it,” his voice was aloof, but his eyes burned in need. “Just do it.”

“Not until you exercise some manners.”

“I’m not-” You interrupted him the man with a slap, just strong enough to stun him.

He may have still been grinning slightly, but you didn’t miss the way his eyebrows pulled down together. Shigaraki tried to break away from the ropes, but his fingertips couldn’t reach them.

“When I get out, you’ll be so fucked.”

You slapped him again. His breathing got heavy again and the previously smiling lips were now pulled between his teeth, almost successfully hiding a moan of excitement.

“So lewd. Makes me want to keep slapping you. And that’s what you want, I can see it on your face. Are you being a brat on purpose to make me punish you?”

Not waiting for a reply, you traced your fingers in the little red mark you made. You loved to have his face in your hands, especially now with him whining in such a cute way.

“Open,” you said, pressing your fingers past his lips.

He sucked and licked your fingers as you pushed them into his mouth, touching the inside of his check, teeth and deep down his throat to stimulate his gag reflex. “The palm now.” As you pull your fingers out, a line of saliva connected both of you, and obediently he licked. Satisfied with his work, you changed hands and made him repeat the process.

“Ok, now we can start.”

You changed your position, siting now on his stomach with you back turned to him.

“Are you going to give me a handjob? I wanna see it, turn this way.”

You ignored the comment, not wanting to spoil him more than you already had. Luckily, he stopped when your wet hands touch his stiff manhood. One hand worked in his length and the other made circles on the dripping head with your palm, making sure he had grown to full size. The only sounds in the room coming from the wetness in your hands and his deep, low groans.

“If you want to cum you have to ask first, remember that.”

Even without a clear answer, besides an annoyed little grunt that you took as a yes, you increased the speed of your hands. The muscles of his thighs strained, and underneath your ass you felt his stomach contract in a heavy moan.

You decided to change the pattern, using one hand to hold the base tightly as the other masturbated him. With your hands getting dry, you spit on his head and heard a soft gasp.

“So filthy. You like to get spit on, too?” Never stopping your hands, you do it a couple more times making him whine and twitch again and again.

Tomura would never allow himself to be seen like this, so vulnerable and submissive. To see that side of him made you forget you were still untouched. You kept a steady speed until you noticed his nearly animalistic grunts and hips thrusts; he was getting close to his release. Normally he would last so much longer, be tied down and treated like a whore must have really excited him.

“Remember to ask before-”

“Fuck, I wanna cum.”

“Not yet.” You smiled, finally down to your play

“I’m… I’m going to…”

“Not yet,” you repeated more sternly, reducing your stroking speed to merely a feather-light touch and an unbearable snail’s pace.

Your slow movement made his body tremble violently as he shamelessly threw his head back and cried your name, as if asking for mercy.

“Oh fuck, fuck. No, don’t stop, keep going!” He shouted, shaking from the lack of stimulation, only to be ignored.

Shigaraki started to fuck your hands to steal back the denied friction. It was a good thing your back was turned to him. This way he couldn’t see the smile in your face. Nearly dropping his cock, you hold him only with your index finger and thumb, receiving his curses and desperate cries in return.

“Say ‘please’~”

“Fucking please, don’t stop now.” He pleaded between clenched teeth.

Gripping him with your full hand now, you spit again, opting for forceful moves rather than fast ones.

“Go faster!”

“This attitude will get you nowhere. You know what I want.”

“I…” He stopped to calm his breath and think. “Please go faster, I need to cum.”

Satisfied, you did as he wanted. By how much he cursed and moved under you, it was obvious that the only thing stopping this level of frustrated Shigaraki from holding you down and fucking you into oblivion were the ropes. Unbelievable that you had to tie the bastard down to give a decent handjob without him using you as a fleshlight.

“Hold it a little longer, Tomura.”

“No, fuck, I can’t hold it anymore-”

“You can. I know you can. Be a good boy for me.”

“Shit, I-I’ve been good…”

“So that was ‘good’?” You laughed at his blatant lie.

“I had enough, please… it hurts.” He called your name in a broken voice “Just let me cum- Fuck it, yellow!”

Yellow, hm?

“Hold it for ten second more seconds. One, two…” You started to count.

He let out a pitched whine in frustration and you could swear that you heard a single, brief sob. “Please, I can’t hold, please let me cum.”

“You talking to me will only extend the countdown. Three, four, five…”

But Shigaraki reached his orgasm in your hand anyway, cursing and crying that he was sorry and just couldn’t do it. His orgasm was so hard that he shook the mattress and released enough cum to leave a wet stain the bed. But he hasn’t going to enjoy it for too long, after all he disobeyed you.

Without stopping the motion of your hands, you used his cum as lube to stroke the head of his pulsing and half-hard cock. Soon he stopped to groan in relief and busted into laughter.

“What?! What you doing? Sto- Ahahahaha"

“You failed.”

“Too sensitive!” He managed to say.

He was so sensitive that your strokes felt like tickles.

“Your laugh is so cute, Tomura.” you said. His twisted euphoria under your torture was contagious. You started laughing, too. “Come on, apologize.”

It was hard trying to hold your position over Shigaraki when he writhed so roughly to get you off, begging you to stop. “I’m- Ahhhahaha! I’m so-” he gasped out between heaving laughs.

“You’re what?”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Stop!”

But you didn’t.

“You’ve been a brat all night. You need to just accept your punishment.”

“Just… Ahaha- Just stop for a second!”

You were decided to torture him breathless for a whole extra minute but he reached his limit before that.

“Red, red, fucking red!” He finally cried. He endured more than you expected.

Obeying his safe word, you stopped. Sitting on the bed at Tomura’s side, you turned to face him. The poor boy was still cracking a laugh from time to time and trying to breathe properly.

“Are you all right?” you asked gently. The little noise from his throat was enough to confirm. “I’m untying you.”

The ropes left marks in his wrists and ankles. Trying to relieve any discomfort, you massaged them a little, kissing and blowing gently. “That was great, you did really good, Tomura”, you murmured, rubbing his wrists.

He made no motion to remove the collar, however, and it looked cute. No harm in leaving it on a little longer then. After he calmed down, his lanky arm pulled you close, wanting to cuddle. Relenting, you lied beside him and embraced his warm body. Tomura had a blissful smile on in his flushed face and, doing the best you could, you tenderly wiped the tears and drool away. Brushing his sticky bangs to the side, you kissed his sweaty forehead.

“Was I too mean?” You asked and tried to pet his hair in a soothing manner, but it was too tangled… It would take you so much time to brush all of that mess.

He moaned lowly, hiding his face in your neck.

“Hmm, you worry too much.” Shigaraki sounded so relaxed as you gently scratched up and down his back. “It was alright.”

And within a minute, he was sleeping soundly. You kissed him again, feeling his soft breath in the curve of your neck.

Taglist: @peridoch @hotforhandman

#shigaraki bnha #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki

232 notes · View notes

ironstarker · 5 years ago

Text

Cherry Pie (pt. 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Notes: Things get spicier! Maybe? That’s a lie. As a side-note, I normally write from Tony’s perspective so it’s weird not getting to see a lot of the “why or how” behind his actions or his comings-and-goings. Some of the things he has in his hotel room, for example, or why he went off in the middle of the night to...do things. I’m trying to limit explanations to what Peter knows because sometimes I tend to elaborate too much (like I’m probably doing right now in this blurb) so that’s that. Anyway, as always, thanks for the love and support and I hope you enjoy! I promise the next chapter will have less talking, more smutting.

Also, because of tumblr’s stupid tag algorithm, I won’t be posting tw’s in the tags, they’ll be available up here!

Warning(s): Underage, Non-Consensual Touching & Bondage, Crying, Kidnapping, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, Bloodplay (Kind of?).

Taglist: @hoeforthegays

AO3 Link

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The least the bastard could’ve done before he left Peter tied to the bed was turn on the heat. The teenager was freezing, nipples pebbled, goosebumps dotting his flesh. “This sucks.” Okay, it more than sucked. He’d been knocked out, taken to a dingy motel room, had some mass murderer finger him, and now he could feel the zip ties chafing his skin. Peter had tugged on them once too many times, it seemed. His wrists were aching, and his thighs were faring no better. He hated it, but Peter was grateful that Tony — Mr. Stark — had pulled his boxers up before he’d left. At least he didn’t have to feel the lube chilling, nor his hole exposed to the air. That would’ve been the last amount of degradation he figured he could’ve handled.

Maybe not, all things considered. It could’ve been worse. The man could’ve raped him while he was at it. Peter had spent the better part of what he assumed was all night (light was beginning to filter in through the thin curtains) thinking of ways to escape, but between the handcuffs and the zip ties, his best bet was to wait until he could convince Tony to get rid of them.

Why did he keep thinking about him as Tony?

As Peter lay there, groggy, he began to wonder if this was an early onset to Stockholm syndrome. He squirmed, thrashing around on the bed in an abrupt effort to see if the ties would give. They didn’t. The teenager exhaled, his eyes falling to the checkered pattern on his boxers. At least he wasn’t in a gold bikini. At least Tony was somewhat attractive, and not a giant slug like Jabba the —

Footsteps outside the door made him still, his eyes going wide. He made a noise against the gag, sure that it would be his savior, and not —

Tony. He stepped through the door and Peter quieted immediately. A rush of cold air accompanied the man, flakes of snow swirling inside the motel room. Peter noticed that Tony hadn’t returned with his bag of tools, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he should feel relieved or more concerned. Peter choked against the gag in his efforts to get the convict’s attention, though he wasn’t sure why he thought that was even remotely a smart idea, but he fell silent when Tony turned to face him.

Even in the low light the covered window cast upon the room, Peter could see that the front of his coat was stained with blood. It was zipped open to reveal the white cotton shirt from earlier, equally stained. Peter’s eyes went wide and he squeaked, his muscles twitching in an involuntary response to get away from the man. Mr. Stark stalked towards him, and when Peter looked down he saw that the man’s hands were coated in drying blood. Peter could see where it crusted underneath his fingernails. Mr. Stark said nothing as he bent over the boy, sliding one of his dirtied hands down Peter’s chest, leaving a vague smear of blood near his nipples. Peter shivered, stared up at Stark’s face so he didn’t have to think about the blood on his skin. Maybe Jabba the Hutt would’ve been a better option after all.

“Sorry I was gone so long, sweetheart. Couldn’t help myself, had to have a little fun before the main event.” He petted Peter’s skin so reverently, smearing more blood here and there. Main event? Peter closed his eyes, wishing the gag would slip down his throat so he could choke on it, be put out of his misery. Mr. Stark frowned down at him and, almost as though he’d read Peter’s thoughts, plucked the fabric out of his mouth. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Peter said nothing, squeezed his eyes shut tighter until a sharp pain split across his cheek from where the man struck him. Peter yelped. His eyes flew open and he stared up at Mr. Stark, that same fear from earlier creeping back in and holding him like a vice. Stark’s eyes were flat, cold.

“I think you forgot your manners.”

A pink tongue darted out to wet dry lips. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, and soon averted his eyes.

Fingers bit into his skin, and Mr. Stark forced Peter to look up at him. His cheeks began to cramp from how tightly the man’s blunted nails bit into him. “You wanna try that again?” The man’s lip was curled into a sneer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark! Thank you, sir!” Peter’s voice hitched higher, desperate to appease the man hovering over him.

Stark considered him. Peter’s cheek began to ache from where the man had struck him, but he had wisened up. He didn’t complain, and instead waited. There was silence in the room, though Peter could hear the wind rattling against the glass of the window. And then, quick as it came, the pressure on his cheeks was gone. Mr. Stark turned away from him and strode off towards the bathroom.

Peter let out a choked sob of sheer relief when the door slammed shut behind him. His body twitched on the bed, and it took a moment to register, but Peter realized he was shivering. It had nothing to do with the cold. His eyes drifted down to where he could see a smear of dry, crusted blood swiped across his chest from where Mr. Stark had touched him. Peter didn’t want to know what his face might look like. Was blood on his chin? His cheeks? Somewhere across his nose? He heard water running in the bathroom, and his muscles spasmed again.

He didn’t know how long he waited for Stark to emerge. A few minutes, maybe more, but when the man came back, he had a rag in his hand. It was pure white and damp, Peter could see, but his focus shifted to the man holding it. Stark flipped the light on by the bedside table, casting the pair of them in an ugly, yellowish glow. He wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore, and his hair was damp like he’d wet it with his fingers. Or had he showered? How long had the man been gone? The boy was beginning to panic, the gravity of the situation settling in. He was losing all sense of time in this place, and he didn’t even realize when he was dissociating. Peter knew in the back of his mind it would be better to catalogue his surroundings, but all he could see was the washcloth.

“Got you all dirty, sweetheart,” Mr. Stark explained, his knee digging into the bed as he leaned over it and began to swab Peter’s chest. The rag was warm. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

What sort of man was Stark? It was like he had two personalities, at times. Peter couldn’t pin him down, but there again, he’d never encountered a psychopath before. That was what he was, right? Peter tried to think back to his classes in school, to the psychology elective he’d figured would look better than art. What was the difference? Peter flinched when the rag swiped over his nipples. “I — I don’t think there’s any blood there, Mr. Stark,” he whispered, and his voice sounded so meek. Moments before the man’s arrival, Peter had wanted to fight — and now, here, in his presence, he was cowering like a lamb caught in a wolf’s trap. “You need to wash up. You’ve been here all night.”

God, why did the older man sound so enamored with him? Peter didn’t want to entertain that thought. He flinched as the man began circling the cloth over his nipple, working it back up to a sensitive point. Peter bit down on his bottom lip, wasn’t sure if the coppery blood he tasted was his own or someone else’s. It made him nauseous, and he let go. The cloth was on his face next. Mr. Stark took care to wipe over his chin and on his cheeks. When he was done, Peter thought he might go, but then Stark’s lips were on his own. Peter’s eyes went wide and he made a muffled sound against the older man’s mouth, and it earned him nothing more than a sharp slap across his cheek and a warm hand grasping his throat, constricting his airway. Peter choked, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to free his hands to get the man off of him. Mr. Stark’s features had contorted, twisted into something animalistic. “You won’t do that again, Peter. Or I will choke the life out of you and bury you with the other fuck I murdered last night.” Peter sucked in a breath and stilled. “Please — don’t.”

Stark’s grip relaxed, but he didn’t let go. He brought the cloth up again, dabbing at Peter’s lip with the hand that wasn’t around his throat, and it was then that the boy realized he was bleeding. Fresh blood stained the cloth, but Mr. Stark seemed to run out of patience. He tossed it aside on the bed, and the hand that was on Peter’s throat pushed up close to the junction of his neck and jaw. Peter’s head was forced back, exposing the line of his neck. He stared up at Mr. Stark with trepidation, and the man watched him in turn. His dark eyes were mesmerizing. Peter blinked up at him, holding his breath, afraid to say a word and break this little trance.

“Let’s try that again.”

Peter didn’t have to ask to know what the older man meant. He was panicking, even if he didn’t know why. He’d already had his first kiss moments ago, thanks to Mr. Stark. But Peter felt his heartbeat tick up faster, and he held his breath as the man pressed his lips against Peter’s. The boy didn’t move at first, but then he felt calloused fingers tightening from their hold around his throat, and he relented. What else could he do? It was awkward, and Peter wasn’t sure how to kiss other than follow Stark’s lead. He didn’t have to do much before a tongue was invading his mouth, and Peter parted his lips for it, compliant. He let Stark explore to his leisure. Peter tasted the tang of his own blood on Stark’s tongue. When prompted, he responded as the older man’s tongue brushed his own. That had to be what he wanted, right? He wasn’t choking Peter anymore. That was a plus.

When the kiss was over, Mr. Stark withdrew and stared at him, dark eyes narrowed. Peter felt himself flushing. “Oh,” Mr. Stark said, sounding as though he’d just solved a differential equation. His expression shifted from scrutiny to glee. “You mean nobody’s ever tasted you, sweetheart? I’ve done it thrice now.”

Right. Peter had forgotten that he didn’t have a clue what the older man had done to him while he’d been unconscious. His body tensed at the thought.

“I want to find out how good you really taste.”

Confusion flickered across Peter’s face. And then, the color drained away as Mr. Stark left the bed to rummage around in the bathroom. He returned with a knife, and Peter all but squealed on the bed, thrashing like a stuck pig.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, please — I’ve been good. I’ve been so good, I’ll be good just don’t — ” Peter was wailing, but he didn’t care. The tears came so easily with the blade of Mr. Stark’s knife glinting in the dim light.

Mr. Stark reached out, pushing his palm down against Peter’s mouth. For an instant, Peter thought about biting into the meaty flesh. Stark shushed him, set the tip of the blade near Peter’s bellybutton. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Peter made a muffled sound against Stark’s hand. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing? He felt the cool blade dip down beneath the fabric of his boxers, and then there was a sharp tug and a ripping sound and the fabric was — oh no.

Somehow, the knowledge that the last barrier of protection he’d had was gone (even despite the fact that Stark had removed him of it, pulled the fabric down his thighs and fingered him earlier) felt worse than Peter’s uncertainty about what the older man planned to do. Peter felt exposed, and he squeaked when he felt the tip of the knife tracing along the line of his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut, quivering beneath Stark’s palm, and his trembling didn’t cease until the blade was abandoned with a heavy clatter onto the bedside table. Peter cracked an eye open, exhaled against Mr. Stark’s palm. The man was staring down at him, brow knitted.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” The word came to Peter, unbidden: sociopath. That was what Mr. Stark was.

#starker #starker fic #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #tony stark #peter parker #serial killer!tony stark #nff #my fic #cp: p3 #cherry pie #reposting bc of the tags sorry guys :\

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knking · 5 years ago

Text

Memory 3 :Brothers

This memory is special, this one is a written fic by the amazing TK. It was an art trade and they did an amazing job at it, I love this so much !

Please take a look :

The creaking of chains and clashing of swords no longer woke Ömen from his meager slumber. Now the cacophony seemed to him more like a distant whisper, white noise behind the cold stone cell in which he lay. Truthfully, he no longer slept either, the constant rush of life and death kept him from the rest he so desperately craved. There seemed to be no yesterday nor tomorrow. Sunlight seemed like a dream from ages forgotten, the pleasant green of foliage and fields was all but nonexistent. All that remained was that dreadful crimson of blood that stained his fur. He'd seen so many shades of red, from all different kinds of living creatures. Occasionally, he would see his own, for a brief period of time, that is before all would go dark and went light returned, all he saw was the blood of another.

"Shaa…" he whispered under labored breath, after every finishing move, after every nightmare, after every tear

On another equally cold and dark cell, his lesser half sat in near-ethereal meditation. Though he saw not with his eyes, he saw through his brother's. And with every whisper of his, he'd always repeat:

"It's not your fault."

He saw through the shadows of his prison the toll which their sentence bore on his brother. He'd see him walk through the gallery as crowds hollered in excitement. He'd see the speckles of spit and sweat that dotted the arena as his brother performed his dance macabre of survival. He'd see the large puddles under the lesser opponents, and lastly, he'd see the puddles under his brother's cell after every fight, though this puddle was clear and crystalline.

He grew unsettled, however, the puddles had become smaller and smaller, the whispers fainter and less emotional. Shaa knew Ömen's rope was coming to an end, it was only a matter of time until all that remained of his other half was an animalistic and feral beast, devoid of emotion.

Another fight. This one was over before it even began. A small human, an undisciplined slave most likely. The sword he held was bigger than him. Ömen ended him swiftly, the stands hollered and begged for more. He must have lashed back at his captors, for once it all ended, they fastened the polar bear-like monster's restraints tighter. They shared in their pain, and once more Ömen wept in his cell.

"Shaa…"

"It's not your fault."

But beyond the arena's domed enclosure Shaa felt something different in the air. For what he lacked in vision and strength he more than made up for in sensorial dexterity. He could sense the telltale signs of unrest and chaos beyond: he saw the faint glimmer of embers and the acrid scent of another's tears. It was unlike the sweat of the fighters or the spit from the spectators. It seemed more visceral, more desperate, more real. Perhaps if the world beyond their walls crumbled around them, there was hope, but at best, this seemed like a farfetched proposition. He talked to his brother through their shared spiritual connection.

"I sense change in the air." He "whispered", in his monk-like voice.

"Shaa…" Ömen replied, distant as ever.

"There is a war, I believe."

"Shaa…"

"Have hope my brother, it's not your fault. When this is all over I promise you, thou shall never see a speck of blood again."

There was a pause this time, Ömen replied not to his brother. The silence that reigned in the metaphysical realm through which they communicated seemed louder to both than the most desperate of cries of a dying gladiator. The polar bear feared for the worst, perhaps it was already too late. If that were the case, then an eternity in this hole seemed all but certain.

But then, for the first time in what may very well have been weeks or months, the gladiator bear mustered a reply beyond uttering his brother's name:

"They will kill you."

"I have hope, brother."

"I don't."

"Please, I beg you Ömen. Stay determined."

The grumbles and protests of the crowd echoed through the halls and corridors as they dispersed, for what they assumed was the end of the fights for the day, nighttime surely. Strangely, the usual detachment of guards around their cells increased, and though all Ömen could do was scowl and growl at his most detested of enemies, Shaa sensed something within them. They spoke not, but their souls betrayed their bodies. They were uneasy, restless. It was as cold as a winter's night in their cells, but yet he felt a single bead of sweat trickle down from one of the human's foreheads. He was right.

There was a war.

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

Full moon, a nightcrawler's worst foe. A small white bundle of fur dashed from umbra to umbra, like a ghoul of the night, careful to minimize his time in the light. He was lead by the whispers of the plants around him, they'd tell him whether a spot was adequate or not without uttering a single word. Asgore knew the humans could not find him in such pitch black darkness, but they had dogs for that. He could not stop, even if he was breathless and exhausted. He still smelled the charred wood of the forest, his feet and hands were still blackened with soot. Yet he dashed from shadow to shadow, avoiding the faint light that peeked through the canopy above. The skin on his back ached incessantly, the herbs he'd been able to muster after a short respite were starting to wear off. He needed shelter.

Shelter… How could this word have crossed his mind? He knew not of such a thing. Perhaps the last time he'd heard that word was when his parents still possessed him. He could not remember when that was. Now that monsters and humans had ruptured their pact of mutual "cooperation", shelter seemed as unlikely as peace between the warring races. This distraction in thoughts bit at him, as he tripped on the roots of a pine tree and dove into the dirt, drenching what little remained of his burlap smock in mud.

As he raised his bruised snout up from the muck he caught sight of a light slithering between the labyrinth of trees of the woods around him. Trying to remember which was the "Song of the Bowing Tree" he whistled a faint tune and the two small saplings that obstructed his view bent out of his line of sight, revealing a large, seemingly empty oval brick structure just beyond a clearing in the woods. Sconces burned feverishly outside.

Burning…

Fire.

He shut his eyes closed in desperation, he winced at the aching in his back.

"Éteignez le feu… Éteignez le feu…" he whimpered. His supplication was answered by the distanting barking of a hound.

This would have to do, he had no choice. He bit down on his lips and dashed as fast as he could. He soon cleared the woods and was now under the full might of the moon's beams. If he was seen now, it was all but over. The main entrance was unguarded, but the sconces shone blindingly bright.

He grew weak at the knees, he would trip once more. The end, so long. But he had to keep going, he had to! He felt a fire of his own within him, a burning that ached not, an invisible force that filled him with hope, strength. A will to live, determination. The bronze light cast by the burning revealed a figment of green within the nooks of a few loose bricks.

"Queues de lion!" He thought

Once more he shut his eyes. How did that tune go? What was the melody? He materialized a small panpipe between his small paws and with the last of his breath he whistled a few melancholic chords. "The song of the dancing vine".

The green figment, as if by supernatural force, crept and twisted toward the lights and violently snapped their supports. As they fell down to the muddy earth, their remnants of fuel sprayed harmless sparks around the archway. Asgore jumped through the fireworks before him and hurled into the darkness.

The entrance led to his left into a torch lit opening and to his right down into a catacomb, meekly lit by the azure hue of a tuft of veilleuses that outcropped from the roof. He heard no noise to his left, but once more the fire struck despair in the heart of the young monster, however, down in the catacombs, he heard voices. Coarse, unpleasant voices. He then remembered a trick he'd learned not too long ago. Standing at the tip of his small toes he plucked two blossoms of the whispering blue flower and, as silently as he could, tiptoed down the spiraling rock shaft.

He was quick to notice, however, that this "shelter" he'd found looked uncannily similar to the one they'd kept him in, once his parents had so generously handed him over to a human warlord.

He could not remember their faces.

He hoped he'd made the right choice coming here

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

"How ghastly are they? I heard 'bout their black eyes or whatever." The brute spoke in a raspy voice, his companion was just about as unsightly in appearance as he was.

"So I'm told, the bastards can rip a man in half before he even moves a muscle."

"So what? Our little meatball over here can do just as well in the arena. You see what he did to that slave of Vlad's?" He pointed to the hunched, catatonic bear.

"Yeah, yeah, but these are worse. I heard they can do that, but like, forty times more intensely. They grow extra limbs and shit, fire in their hands, all sorts of ludicrous shit." The man adjusted his armor with unease, jingling of cold steel reverbing in the catacombs.

"Yeah right, but we're still kickin' their asses right?"

“You betcha." he cackled.

The words passed through Ömen ear's like dull air, just another amalgam of sounds that meant naught for him. The last few strains of his conscious mind were now buried deep within his skull. He tried to move in the darkness, but it was a waking nightmare. Sluggish in his movement towards consciousness, crawling through a black sludge of affliction. His time was running out, "Ömen" would soon be nothing but a distant whisper in the wind, a name forsaken for a beast of war. While a battle for his soul raged in his spirit, his exterior was still that of detachment, he'd been tamed at last. The blood on his fur had dried out. Two more brutish men patrolled up and down the corridor in front of his, the creases on their brows were accentuated, their scowls were sterner. Word of battles and razings had reached them through the jesters in the stands.

"You think they've come this far already, Pavel?" The guard continued.

"Hell no! The closest monster is probably hundreds of thousands of yards away. Heh, not counting these two little teddies here with us."

"Hah, true! Even still, I'd rather be up there than down here. At least there I can see 'em coming and slice 'em and dice 'em. You'd think these rich fucks would at least give us some stuff to light this cold hell up…"

The acoustics of the place were such that any word spoken through the maze of rock and steel could be heard throughout the complex, so when these words reached Shaa's own ears his runic tattoos glowed with ancient purpose. He was right after all, conflict engulfed the land, they could possibly muster an escape in the ensuing chaos. That glimmer of hope that shone in what remained of his furry runes gave him just the spark of energy enough to once more pan out their enclosure in his psyche. Had the humans been more diligent in their task of removing said runes, this task would have been all but impossible. He counted 32 men, all armed. Last time he'd checked it'd been 17... But there was something else, something small. He felt a heartbeat. It was intense, pure. It crept around the dark with innocent intent, like a lost fawn looking for her mother.

As unlikely as it might have been, this seemed like that spark of hope he'd held for so long; a dying ember locked inside a glass jar, rejuvenated. It was a monster, a young one. His soul was strong, it danced in the dark of metaphysical space with blinding white light: a wisp of juvenile power. A boss monster?

"Ömen." He whispered through the ether.

"Shaa…" a nearly whimperish reply came through. Ömen was but a hair away from being entirely lost.

"Someone is here, one of us."

"Shaa…"

"He's a boss monster, brother."

Once more, silence. In the gladiator-bear's mind, he made way through the sludge of affliction, he grasped his body and mind just enough to muster another coherent response :

"Can he free us?"

"Perhaps, he's small. Real small, but I think-"

Their ethereal exchange was abruptly shattered by a desperate howl from the bowels of the dark.

"HEEELP MEEE!!!" a desperate holler, high pitched. Like a child's. A monster child's.

"ALAAAARM!!!" One of the guards yelled.

"SOUND THE BELL!"

And in a desperate frenzy, the company of men dashed to the source of the sound, guards abandoning their posts by the cages. The ear-shattering ringing of a large church bell filled the air, such that the unsheathing of swords and clatter of sabatons dwarfed in comparison.

And as suddenly as it sparked, that ember of hope within Shaa waned. From a near blazing fire it died down to a mere atom of light. Their chance, it seems, was gone as unexpectedly as it'd made itself known.

Ömen lifted his pupils to observe the shadows of bronze and grey dash beyond the wrought iron bars that imprisoned him. The sludge engulfed him more, he became more distant from himself, he sank, sight became weaker... So much for "hope", whatever their little helper was, he or she'd been found. There would be nothing left of them to feed even the hounds… He was slipping away... So long, you little…

But suddenly from the dark, once all the men had all made their way down the darkest chambers of the catacombs, two small lights appeared in the corner of his eye. Amber and azure. He could not believe he still recalled what those colors looked like. The lights blinked, and he saw the reflection of his very own emerald pupils.

A slithering sound, like a venomous serpent, crept from under the ground, between the eroded boulders beneath him. It stopped short of him. A blue sprout blossomed with near-blinding blue light, and like a ghost, the flower whispered to him:

"Are you a friend?"

Those words woke him from a nightmare that seemed to have lasted for countless months. The black sludge receded, he regained sight and control, he was Ömen once more. Under normal circumstances he would have answered "fuck off" to such a playfully childish question, but he rose his eyes from the blossom, and from the delicate hue it set off, he saw just beyond the bars a small bundle of white fur behind the amber and azure eyes. A monster. A boss monster.

As if by instinct, he whispered back to the flower:

"Yes, I'm a friend… How did you do that?"

It quickly shut closed and burrowed itself back under the rocks, before returning to his progenitor. As it blossomed again, he could see the little thing's features a little better. Short hair, short horns, pale white skin, he could not be more than 7 years old, maybe less. Ömen saw him whisper something into it, and once more it burrowed and resurfaced before him.

"I'll tell you later. I think I can free you."

His heart shot ablaze with those words. A lust for vengeance boiled in his blood, his muscles swelled with purpose. The urge to obliterate all that surrounded him blistered in his mind, but his newfound purpose was sufficient, for the time being, to calm him down. Shaa had to be freed first. Ömen's cell was rigged with bells and whistles, if he broke out first, his other half was as good as dead. With that out of the way, nothing could possibly stop them. Freedom was all but certain. If his new little "friend" survived.

He explained this to his little saviour

"Do you know where he is?" The youngling asked through the whispering blossom

"No. But he's the only other monster in this catacomb. Everyone else is… Gone. You'll find him. His eyes can glow in the dark."

The child listened carefully, before replying with one last message:

"Cool!"

And with such an erudite reply, the flower receded one last time and the little goblin dashed through the dark, and as he did, another howl echoed, coming from the complete opposite direction he came from.

The ember flared up again, stronger than ever. Shaa eagerly awaited their new friend.

Ömen clenched his paws in anticipation.

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

Asgore raced through the cold hallways and corridors, searching frantically for the white bear with glow-in-the-dark eyes. His back still ached, his stamina ran short, but he had to help his new friends! The big bear told him he was so, none before had openly declared themselves as his friend. Once more, he wondered where he remembered that word from. No matter, no distractions he kept dashing. The deep hollers of frustration from the guards shook the still air, they'd found nothing once more. They were sure to return to their starting positions soon.

Just as that thought crossed his frantic mind, a faint glow made itself known around the corner. It pulsed ever so slightly, before waning. This must be it. With one last dash, he rounded the bend and before him lay his other new friend: strapped by his neck, the bear's pure blue eyes met his own before he'd finished crossing over. The few remnants of intricate patterns on his fur gave off a mystical glow, faintly illuminating a warm smile. Asgore couldn't contain himself :

"Cool! Err… I mean, howdy!"

"You must be our little bard friend. That was a nice trick with the veilleuses." Those words snapped Asgore to attention almost immediately.

"How did you know that?" He recoiled.

"I'll tell you later." He snickered "Above me on the corner of the cell, there is a leak through the rocks. I am not sure, but there might be some vines tucked into the stone." His voice was serene, so serene in fact, that had they been uttered anywhere else, one might not have guessed it came from someone shackled to a wall.

The polar bear was indeed right, he could sense the whisper of a creeping vine cowered in the nook. But it was so far deep, he'd never attempted to retrieve something so far out of sight. Moreover, he did not know which song he'd play to summon it from its enclave. The guards hollered once more, they heard their little exchange. They had not much time. The immediacy was palpable.

"I-I don't know how to get them!" He stuttered, as the clanking of sabatons and swords encroached on him from both sides.

"Use 'the song of the dancing vine' to bring it closer! Quickly!"

"But that won't be enough! Your chains look hard! The vines can only push and pull!"

"You will have to improvise, my little bard friend!"

The yelling and clanking drew closer now, they could make out words now:

"Monsters!"

"Kill them!"

"Where's the company commander?!"

The little boss monster felt that same desperation now that he'd had in the forest. Craning his head looking for his pursuers, the images and sounds engraved in his mind returned to him. He remembered the roar of the blaze, the screams of soldiers, the fire seemed to surround him once more. There was no way! He knew not what to harmonize! The walls closed in, doom awaited him, his back winced once more. He started slipping. The corner of his irises became black as tar.

"What's your name?" The serene words woke him from his delirium.

"As… Asgore." He whimpered back

“I believe in you Asgore. I have hope."

The tar in his eyes retreated, and with it the affliction of his chase disappeared. He felt that inner fire roaring once more. Hope and a will to live. Determination. He heard the quiet bubbling of the water leak above through the ruckus of his foes approaching, and once more like outside, he willed a small panpipe to existence before his miniature monster paws. Putting the instrument to his mouth, once more he sang that melancholic melody, the wordless chant calling his creeping friend from his burrow of stone.

The vine crackled as it twisted and bent along the surface of the wall, an unsettling sight for one to see unprepared. But alas, no one was there to see. Shaa had not the gift of vision and Asgore, well, he need not look to know where the vine was. As the vegetation crept towards Shaa's restraints new sprouts and roots tangled around the rock, gripping firmly to aid their progenitor's purpose.

"KILL THEM!!!"

"AAAAGHHHH!!!"

They had not but 20 seconds left

"I believe in you Asgore."

A good bard, so it's said, is not the one who sticks to well-known harmonies unwaveringly. It is the one who can dance and play with the song that is a true bard. Asgore discovered that very moment he was one such bard, as with sudden vigor, the melancholy of his song was spliced with fast, foreboding chords. The vine obliged to his song, and as it did, in wrapped itself around the chain connected to Shaa's neck. The final chord is the most important one, as well.

With a final, ear-lifting and soul-searing blow on his pipes, the vines evoked their visceral primordial power. Their supports dug into the cold rock as, like a photosynthesizing anaconda, the vine tightened itself around the bronze chains, shattering them with an ear-splitting bang.

It was not an iota of a second before, once mote through the ether, Shaa announced to his greater half:

"I am free."

Years of torture, penance, violence and suffering weighed down on Ömen. But alas, his time had finally arrived. Retribution was his, the invisible chains that kept him from unleashing his own personal armageddon vaporized. Once more, his heart raced, his blood boiled, his muscles swole and that feverish desire for vengeance consumed him whole.

"THE POLAR BEAR IS LOOSE!!" A desperate voice cried in the dark.

"WHAT!?" A second voice replied, stricken with fear like a cornered animal.

The voice was just beyond the bar's in Ömen's cage. It was Pavel. The vilest of all his captors. He'd driven a spear through his side when the bear refused to execute a child warrior. Now his time had come, the gladiator-bear seeked not merely justice, his fight was purely for revenge.

He'd roar in the arena as he was commanded by his captors, but he only did so for the sake of Shaa, not for the sake of entertainment. He'd always held back, but now… His ear-shattering roar split the rock on the ceiling above him and rose the fur on his back, with one charge he'd demolished the bars beyond and swiftly crushed Pavel on the wall, a gut-wrenching noise followed by a dash of that dark crimson in Ömen's eyes.

He only realized how mistaken he was in fuelling his escape on revenge, when the red in his eyes gave way to black; his level of violence peaking at the highest he'd ever been. A streak of desperation darted in Ömen's eyes but it was too late, he'd crossed over into near feral rage. Perhaps it was better that he did not see for the duration of his rampage, for if he did…

He would have seen more crimson than ever before in his life.

Written by TK

[INDEX]

#TOMR #Asgore #Ömen #Shaa #Memories #Memories 3 : The Brothers

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mo-art-please · 5 years ago

Text

Animalistic

(Old drabble I came across. It's not as good as my other work but I found it to at least be a fun, quick read.)

Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Animalistic ❯ You're Fucking Paranoid (Chapter 1)

Title: Animalistic (Art Jam)

Type: One-Shot

Couple: Vegeta X Bulma

Rating: R for +18 (for sex, language, and violence)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, but I worship them.

*~*~*~*

Bulma stumbled down the stairs drowsily. She couldn’t sleep so she thought it would be best if she worked on some documents for the upcoming board meeting in several days. She didn’t even bother turning on the lights in the hallway as she made her way to the living room.

Suddenly, she slammed into something warm and extremely hard. Before she had time to scream, she felt herself get painfully seized and slammed into a wall. There was only one thing she could think of that she had stumbled upon; Vegeta.

Bulma’s heart pounded violently in her chest as his arms and upper torso pinned her into the wall and his hands shackled her wrists. Vegeta’s eyes were dark as he glared angrily at her as if it were him that was being held captive instead of her.

“Oh god Vegeta, I’m sorry I startled you. I--I didn’t know you were up.” Bulma stuttered out. She hadn’t been prepared to run into the unruly Saiyan Prince in the dark hallway and it seemed that he had not been prepared to run into her either.

Vegeta snarled at her comment and for a moment she could really see the furious animal hiding within him. “What the fuck are you doing up so late?” His voice was deeper than usual and was carried with an irritated growl. No human could ever make a noise like that.

“I - uhh—I…” Bulma had a hard time concentrating past the aching pain in her wrist where Vegeta was unconsciously squeezing.

“Are you spying on me you little cunt? Huh?” His voice was a soft rumble of fury and Bulma was shocked he even thought that way.

“What? No! No! I would never do that! Never ever!” Bulma shook her head and gushed quickly in hopes of calming his paranoia.

“Then, I’ll ask you one more, time…” he leaned in next to her ear. His hot breath fanned over her exposed neck causing her hair to stand on end, “…what the FUCK are you doing here?” It was a hushed whisper, but it held deadly intent.

“I left my briefcase in the living room next to the couch,” Bulma gushed. “I just wanted to go get it and work on some paperwork since I can’t sleep. I swear Vegeta that’s all I was doing.” Bulma couldn’t believe how desperate she sounded but she was terrified. The man was off his rocker and she would plead on her hand and knees if she had to.

He looked skeptical, but after a moment he released her hands and stepped away from her body. Bulma rubbed the achy pain from her wrists and eyed Vegeta wearily for several moments.

“Well I don’t have all fucking night, go get your damn bag.” He sneered and Bulma nodded her head and started down the dark hall towards the living room. To her unease he followed her. His footsteps were silent as he tagged behind her and she felt like she was being openly stalked. She could feel his eyes angrily burn into her back and she couldn’t wait until she could retreat to her bedroom.

The living room dimly glowed from the artificial fireplace her mother kept lit at night. Bulma didn’t bother turning on the lights and hurriedly went straight to the couch. She sighed with relief when she saw the briefcase was unmoved. She picked it up and showed Vegeta, who was leaning against the door frame. She placed it on top of the sofa and opened it to double check all the papers she needed where still inside and then closed it.

“Well good night Vegeta,” she said as she walked towards him and to the safety of the exit he was standing by. She went to move by him and leave the room, but a large arm reached across the doorframe and blocked her off.

“Not so fast wench. How do I know this isn’t some set up? How do I know that you didn’t plant that bag there as a safety net if I caught onto you? Hmm?” He leaned in until his nose nearly touched hers and snarled like an irate beast.

“Listen to yourself Vegeta! You’re fucking paranoid! This is my damn house! Why the hell would I try to set you up for?” Bulma took several steps back and clutched her briefcase to her chest. What on earth was wrong with him?! He was crazy!

“Oh? Am I?! Huh?! I’ve seen you watching me, spying on me, plotting against me.” He growled as he began to prowl after her, stalking her through the living room.

Bulma’s mouth gaped open in shock as she backed up into the couch. He had to be kidding! Sure, she had sneaked a peak here and there in appreciation of his physique, but she was never ‘plotting’ or ‘spying’ on him.

“Vegeta you got it all wrong. I was never spying on you –”

“Then what is it!?” He angrily shouted as he flipped the side table next to the couch over . The table crashed to the floor and the small lamp that was on it shattered on impact. Bulma gasped and continued to retreat around the couch, trying to get distance from him. There was no way she was going to let him casually walk up to her in that kind of rage.

Every time Vegeta made a move to go around the couch Bulma would move the opposite way. He’d step to her left, she’d go right, he’d step to her right, she’d go left. Even though she felt a little braver having the sofa between her and her fuming houseguest she knew it wasn’t much of a barrier.

“I was never spying or plotting against you Vegeta,” Bulma tried to reason with him as she continued to keep the couch wedged between them. “That’s not how I am.”

“Then why are you constantly watching me? Huh? Tell me that!” Vegeta snarled as his hands gripped the back of the couch. Bulma heard a crack as she observed the couch’s wooden frame snap like a twig between his hands. Bulma was almost panicking now.

“You ever think maybe it’s because I find you attractive?!” Bulma yelled truthfully in fear and frustration. Vegeta’s spine straightened and he blinked several times in confusion. For the first time, Vegeta looked like he was stunned.

Bulma used the opportunity to throw her briefcase at him and took off running for the hallway. She didn’t make if very far and barely made it through the doorframe when a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind. Bulma squealed as he clamped a hand around her mouth. Her breath was knocked out of her in a gust of air as she was yanked painfully backwards into Vegeta’s chest. Suddenly her face and chest were pressed into the wall forcefully and she was sufficiently trapped between two unmovable forces.

Bulma was frozen in fear as Vegeta’s massive body was pushed flushed against her from behind, pinning her tightly against the wall. His breath was heavy against her neck and the heat that radiated from him was immense causing her hair to stand up as if electrified.

“What - ,” he rasped into her ear, “-did you just say?”

Bulma gulped several times trying to clear the dryness in her mouth. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She tried again.

“I-I said th-that I think you are attractive,” Bulma finally managed to whisper out.

A long silence was held between them in the soft light of the living room. Bulma was unsure of what to say so instead opted to keep her face pressed against the cool plaster of the wall. At the moment, she was at a loss of words and was utterly dumbfounded on what to do next.

After a long moment Vegeta moved his mouth to her ear. His lips were so close she could feel them softly brushing against her neck.

“So, I take it you want to fuck me?” He gruffly whispered to her.

Bulma’s eyes widened in shock. It was one thing to find someone attractive, but it was another thing to want to sleep with them!

“I-I-I-,” Bulma stuttered but was silenced when Vegeta’s hips grinded against her rear lewdly. She gasped and tried to come up with something to say but her mind was completely blank.

“It makes sense now.” He moaned breathlessly against her as he inhaled her scent. “The constant watching me. Eyeing me. I didn’t realize you wanted to mate with me.” His lips trailed from her ear to her temple where they skimmed against the skin there.

Bulma tried to think of a way to tell him that this was by-far not what she had in mind but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t think past the feeling of his warm body pressing firmly into her from behind.

“I will not lie to you woman, I do not enjoy your race-,” he moved his lips back to her ear, “-but something tells me that I will enjoy you.” He huskily whispered as he took her earlobe in between his teeth and softly tugged it. Bulma shivered at the contact, not from fear but from sexual excitement. Yamcha had never done that before!

Vegeta seemed pleased with Bulma’s reaction and began to rain tantalizing kisses and nips down the smooth column of her neck. His lips were surprisingly soft, and he was wonderfully tender with his teeth.

Bulma trembled with desire. Somewhere in the back of her mind her conscious was screaming at her to stop this. She barely knew the guy! Not to mention the man had just chased her down in her own house and threatened her for no reason! But logic was not at her side and with each sinful kiss and nip she felt her rational side slip farther and farther way.

She moaned as his mouth brushed against the smooth skin of her shoulder. He softly pulled both her tank top straps down her arms and continued to lather her skin with attention. His lips moved down the back of her neck and licked across the hollow between her shoulder-blades.

Bulma was surprised at his current gentleness. It was shocking to see the extreme difference between the animal that had been knocking over furniture in a paranoid rage to this man with a mouth softer than a summer breeze. Part of her mind screamed that it only proved what a mental case Vegeta truly was and that she needed to escape, but she ignored her rationality and concentrated on the feeling of him pulling her shirt down over her breast and to her hips.

His bare hands skimmed up and down her sides before his fingers looped into the band of her gym shorts and pulled them down off her. Bulma looked over her shoulder at Vegeta to see him examining the red thong she wore underneath. His fingers dipped under the thin straps and with a little tug they snapped and fell to the floor as well.

Pleased that she was now naked before him, Vegeta’s hands caressed Bulma’s ass sensually before sliding up her sides to her exposed breasts causing goosebumps to spread across her heated skin. Bulma couldn’t help herself and moaned deeply as she leaned heavily against him, arching her chest further into his hands. She had never been so turned on in her life and she found it to be the ultimate high having Vegeta touch her so delicately.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered passionately while burying her face into the crook of his neck. Her mouth brushed the smooth skin of his throat as his hands worked magic on her body, touching her in all the right places causing delightful tingles to run through her blood like a fever. He trailed his calloused fingertips down her sensitive sides to her hips and thighs before trailing them to the heat of her sex. Bulma gasped as he began to explore her there. His fingers slipped between her slick folds to her bud where he pressed and rolled her clit in circular motions causing Bulma’s legs to buckle under the pleasurable sensations.

Vegeta’s mouth continued to kiss and bite her neck as his free hand kneaded her breast. Bulma had never been so fully stimulated. “Please…” she gasped as she bucked into his hands and tossed her head back onto his shoulder. God it felt so good!

To her dismay he suddenly halted his torment and stepped away from her leaving her bereft. Bulma turned around to plead with him to continue but stopped when she watched him pull his tank top off over his head.

“God he is a beautiful man,” She thought as she leaned back against the wall and basked in the sight of his naked chest.

“Please what?” he growled suggestively as he stepped towards her wrapping his muscular arms around her lithe body. His hands cupped her ass as his mouth fell to her collar bone and nipped it heatedly.

“Please…” she moaned when she felt his clothed arousal push against her exposed flesh. She gripped on to him tightly, her fingers dimpling his skin on his shoulders.

All of a sudden, a light turned on from the hallway. Bulma gasped in alarm and quickly jumped away from the shirtless man in front of her. She hurriedly scooped up her clothing and attempted to put them on hastily.

Vegeta growled dangerously making Bulma leap in sudden fear as she slipped her shirt over her head. The animal that was hidden within him was coming out and it was not happy to be interrupted. She backed up into the corner while she watched him angrily make his way to the hallway.

“Bulma darling, are you in there? I thought I heard-,” her mother’s voice was cut off by a very pissed off Saiyan.

“The woman’s not in here so leave and don’t disturb me anymore.” It was a threatening rasp that made Bulma worried for her mother’s safety.

“Oh, Vegeta it’s you! I’m so sorry. I just thought it was Bulma. She suffers from insomnia so sometimes she’s up at all hours of the night, so I just figured it was her I heard. I didn’t mean to upset you my dear, but I figured I go check up on Bulma, but it wasn’t even her at all! Oh, look at me I’m rambling! I’m sure you want your peace and quiet after such a long day training. It’s amazing how much you train! But it surely pays off. Look at that exceptional body of yours! My, my, I’m sure all the ladies adore you!” Bulma’s mother giggled girlishly.

Bulma nearly rolled her eyes in exasperation but she was too afraid to look way from Vegeta for a second. She had a perfect profile view of Vegeta’s body barricading the doorway into the living room and Bulma could see the murderous expression on his face deepening with every word her mother spoke. She feared for her mother’s life if he lost control of the rage within him.

“Well goodnight Vegeta dearie, I’ll see you in the morning!” Her mother cooed and Bulma was happy to see the light in the hallway shut off and hear her mother’s footsteps softly vanish. She let out a heavy sigh of relief. That had been too close for comfort.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea…” Bulma whispered in the silence as she nervously tugged at the bottom of her tank top. Now that she wasn’t in a daze of heat and pleasure her logic was back on track.

“Shut up and lay on the fucking couch,” Vegeta snapped as he angrily tugged at the drawstring on his cotton pants. Bulma blinked and was about to give him a firm ‘no’ but the enraged expression on his face stopped her. He was back to the animalistic Vegeta he had been earlier, and it scared her. Saying ‘no’ to him now may not be the best thing for her health.

Bulma timidly went to the couch and laid down on her back. She tried to ignore the large dip where the back of the couch was broken and instead tried to even her frantic breathing. She eyed Vegeta wearily as he moved toward her. She exhaled forcefully when he dropped his pants and every inch of him was exposed to her in the dim light. Bulma bit her lip, he was truly magnificent to look at.

Vegeta crawled over her body and with an angry snarl he ripped her tank top and shorts off her. Bulma cried out in surprise and covered her bare chest with her arms. This was definitely not the gentle man that was touching her only moments before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you now?” He frothed in rage as his body loomed over her threatening. Bulma gulped several times and quivered in fear.

“Y-you’re f-frightening me,” she whispered with wide blue yes. Her lips trembled so much that she had to bite them to keep them still.

For the second time that night he looked stunned. He sat back on his haunches and stared down at her with an odd expression on his face as if seeing her for the first time. Bulma wasn’t quite sure how to read his current behavior and looked away to stare at the fire. This was not what she had planned. Not once had she ever imagined herself in such a predicament. Sure, she found the Saiyan Prince to be smoking hot, but she had barely said more than a sentence to the man for the whole year and a half he had been living with her and her family. And now, here she was, naked and pinned down by the very sexy, naked, and violent alien male.

Bulma’s eyes quickly jumped back to Vegeta when he slowly descended down onto her. He nudged her legs apart with his knees and settled himself between her thighs. He placed his massive arms beside her head and stretched his entire length of his body on top of hers.

Vegeta slowly moved his mouth towards hers until his lips gently brushed against lips. The contact was as light as a feather but Bulma trembled from the touch. He repeated the action, slightly rocking his hips to press his manhood against her warmth as his lips skimmed against her petal soft mouth for a second time. Bulma exhaled and Vegeta took the chance to seal his lips over hers. He coaxed her into a sensual kiss as his body pressed further into her slick passage. Bulma moaned as the head of his dick nudged against her entrance and slip partially inside her tightness.

Bulma tried to think but it was hard to with Vegeta’s mouth working it’s magic against hers. God he was a split personality. From violent to gentle. From gentle to enraged. From enraged to sensual. She had never met a man that had such an unstable mentality, or one that kissed as skillful as him. His mouth was so gentle against hers. His tongue was just as amazing as his lips as it swept into her mouth and danced with hers. It should have been against the laws of nature that someone as demented and psychotic as Vegeta to be able to kiss so fervently.

Bulma gasped against his mouth as he pushed deeper into her. She clutched onto his biceps as he stretched her with his immense size. He pulled his mouth away from hers and settled to nip and kiss along her neck.

“Fuck…” Vegeta groaned as he pushed his entire length within her and paused letting her accommodate to his size.

Bulma closed her eyes and moaned as she absorbed the pleasure of his warm cock within her. He was so large and filled her so completely that she was sure that it would be hard to find another man as gratifying. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her face, his full lips were softly parted, and beads of sweat were starting to build at his temples. He looked so handsome that Bulma couldn’t stop herself as she reached up and framed his face with her hands. She tenderly rubbed her thumb against his bottom lip before pulling his face down for a searing kiss.

Vegeta’s lips fought against hers in a battle of passion as his hips began to make a slow steady rhythm. Bulma moaned and gasped against his mouth at the building pleasure his body was making within her. Vegeta lifted himself up higher on his elbows and groaned when Bulma wrapped her slender legs around his waist giving him deeper access to her heat.

Bulma tilted her head back while in the throes of pleasure. It felt so good that Bulma couldn’t help but grip his arms tighter to anchor herself. He wasn’t even moving fast but Bulma could feel herself teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She had never met a man with such a skill at sex. Bulma let out a breathless gasp as she climaxed and arched her body off the cushions of the couch.

Vegeta groaned and grasped Bulma’s hips in an attempt to still her. He bit his bottom lip roughly as he tried to settle his cock from cumming within her clenching walls. “Damn…” he rasped in a breathless pant.

Bulma opened her eyes and stared at him under half lidded lashes as he tried to regain control of himself. When he seemed to have settled, he grabbed her waist and pulled her up onto his lap, pressing her breast firmly against his chest. His hands gripped her ass using it to push her hips back and forth, rocking her slowly on top of him.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whimpered in pleasure as he began to pick up speed and depth. But it didn’t seem enough for the Saiyan Prince.

Vegeta growled deep within his throat and before Bulma knew it she was being lifted off his lap and bent over the broken back of the couch. He stood behind her leaning form and wasted no time mounting her from behind. Vegeta’s thrusts were much more forceful than before and he grunted heavily with each powerful push of his hips. The sound of their sweaty bodies slapping against each other and the soft noises of their panting echoed through the empty room but neither of them seemed to notice.

Bulma gripped the cushions with white knuckles as Vegeta plowed into her from behind. The pleasure was blinding and Bulma couldn’t hold back any longer and softly cried under her breath as another orgasm hit her hard. Lights danced behind her lids and she was sure that she was dying from the sinful ecstasy rushing through her veins.

Vegeta gnashed his teeth together and his nostrils flared as Bulma’s body clenched tightly around him. He could no longer control himself and he pushed deeply into her wet passage. His cocked pulsed powerfully as he cummed, spilling his hot white seed within her.

Vegeta kept himself tightly wedged within Bulma’s warmth as they both took a minute to catch their breath. After several moments he slowly pulled out and watched as their combined liquids dripped down her thighs and off his tingling manhood.

Bulma closed her eyes and smiled contently as she rested her forehead on the back of the couch. Her whole body felt sedated and satisfied like never before. Who knew insane psychopathic men would make such good lovers?

Before she could start thinking of the repercussions of him cumming inside her. Vegeta leaned over to softly nuzzled his lips against the nape of Bulma’s neck then up to her ear. Bulma opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow to acknowledge him instantly forgetting her thoughts

“I think we should get cleaned up,” he rasped with a chuckle and emphasized his point by wiping the dripping cum off his dick onto her bare ass. Bulma nodded her head in agreement and slowly grabbed the scraps of her clothing off the floor.

Vegeta waited patiently for her before heading for the shower. As soon as they entered Vegeta’s bathroom Bulma knew the night was far from over. Once the door clicked closed Vegeta had her pinned against the sink with his naked body. His eyes were dark with obsession and the wicked predatory grin on his face sent shivers of ecstasy through her body. He effortlessly lifted her up onto the counter and Bulma blushed innocently as he spread her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” Vegeta groaned huskily as he forcefully took her mouth with a lustful kiss.

And he did. All night long.

*~*~*~*

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askdawnandvern · 7 years ago

Text

A Lamb Among Wolves Ch:24

I got some heat after posting last weeks NSFW chapter from some of the people who follow me on FF as well as my art sites for not including the lewd chapter on Fanfiction.net. Of course with this weeks post I covered it, and explained why I had chosen to do so. A combination of factors involving trying to get my stories featured on ZNN (And never getting a response) and giving the story a wider exposure because of the lower rating for the story overall. Of course, that's not really an issue on sites like this, and so there is little need to discuss it. So instead, I will simply say I hope you enjoy this chapter, because 25 is going to get heavy. -WT

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

Chapter Twenty Four: It Takes Two

'I need you to keep my muzzle shut.' She could hear the wolf repeating in her head, over and over again. 'Don't let go of it no matter what! Got it?'

Dawn cursed herself as she stood in the darkness of the now startlingly frigid cornfield, her hooves furiously rubbing her upper arms in an effort to warm herself. Once again, a moment of personal weakness had managed to land the pair in hot water. Just like how she had crumpled when faced with Ana's relentless cruelty, and failed to protect the family's stand against Ruddy, Loupon, and the unruly residents of the North Meadowlands. The ewe had now allowed herself to fall prey to her primal, animalistic urges instead of rising above them. She had failed to keep a cool head in the face of her overwhelming, gnawing desires.

It was a seemingly simple instruction, something even a dullard should have been able to follow. But in the heat of the moment, when her body had been pushed to the limit, that simple task had become an impossible one. Her mind had been so overcome, so flooded with desire and the burning need for relief that she had simply forgotten the wolf's missive. She was only a mammal after all, and despite years of evolution and refined civilization, under duress her baser animal urges still easily overwhelmed her rational mind.

She could have blamed her Puppy Love, and his flawed but endearing approach on how to take care of her 'remnant estrus' without alerting the household. But if they had been able to simply leave it at the wolf's original plan, if she hadn't been so insistent after the wolf had riled her up, it could have been something workable. But once she had gotten so near to the threshold of her big release, only to fall just short of it, her composure immediately crumbled under the desperate need for her Puppy's 'full attention'. She hadn't even fully heard him when he first uttered the instructions, her pheromone addled mind had been too busy screaming for the wolf to finish what he started.

When his words finally managed to cut through the heated sexual fog, the ewe was quick to clasp her hooves as hard as she could down on his maw. At that point Dawn would have agreed to anything the wolf said as long as he promised to break the fever that had taken hold of her, the rational part of her brain having been buried deep beneath a sea of lust. She could have blamed the wolf for expecting her to be able to comply with what he had asked under such extreme circumstances, but she had been the one that became adamant that he go all the way once she had become too hot and bothered to turn back.

The ewe shuddered as another light breeze blew against her body. Her estrus had been quelled, at least for a day or two. The heat burning deep inside had rapidly extinguished once Vernon had thoroughly scratched her 'itch', and now the previously temperate feeling Autumn air had become brisk and chilly. Dawn clenched her chattering teeth as she let out a ragged huff. The ewe was walking back and forth as she continued to run her hooves over her upper arms.

Dawn nearly jumped out of her wool as she felt something being draped around her, turning sharply to find Vernon placing the plaid picnic sheet around her shoulders.

"Easy, easy, Mutton Chop." Vernon spoke quietly, holding his paws out in a defensive stance. "It's just me."

Dawn sighed, clutching the blankets edge at she stared up at the wolf in slight confusion.

"I thought it might help with the chill, seein' as how we didn't bring any jackets out here." The wolf said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I figure it's better than nothin'."

"O-oh..." Dawn uttered. "Thank you Puppy." The ewe added, pulling the sheet more tightly around her body. It wasn't very thick, after all the blanket probably hadn't been made with warmth in mind. But at the very least it did help take some of the edge off of the crisp Autumn winds that were now steadily buffeting the field.

With a meek smile, the wolf turned his attention back to the edge of the corn field, and Dawn watched him part a few of the stalks before sticking his head out between the newly formed gap in the direction of the Hunter household.

Now alone with her thoughts once more, the ewe found herself regarding the thin gauzy sheet she was now using as a makeshift shawl. The same fabric that had just moments ago had played bedding to their sexual escapades in the corn field. The ewe gingerly raised one of the clumps of fabric she was holding to her muzzle, giving it a gentle and wary sniff only to find that it absolutely reeked of her and the wolfs scent. Dawn found it comforting only for a moment before her rational mind snapped her back to the issue at hoof. Now free of the sexual haze brought on by her estrus, the ewe's mind was fully alert and becoming increasingly nervous.

'It wouldn't have worked anyway.' She thought, now going over Vernon's plan with a clear head. Even if the wolf hadn't howled, there is no way they would have been able to rid themselves of the undiluted aroma of sex that was now clinging to them like the scent of cigarettes on a chain smokers jacket. Getting rid of the potent odor of their mixed pheromones would have required two separate showers, and immediately washing their clothes and the picnic blanket without accidently running into one of the Hunters.

And considering how easily Yuri had picked up on the fact that the ewe had been in heat earlier in the day, Dawn could only assume that the rest of the family's keen sense of smell would easily expose their misdeed the moment they were in the same room with any of them for longer than a split second. The odds of avoiding the entire pack of Hunters while crossing back and forth through the house several times in order to rid themselves of the smell discreetly were slim to none. Of course, such hypothetical plans no longer held any value. There was no possibility of hiding the fact that the pair had mated now that Vernon had howled.

The Hunters had most assuredly heard them, as well as half the county judging by the faint howls she could hear from other directions. Audrey, Yuri, the rest of the family, there was no way she and Vernon were going to be able to walk back into that house as if it simply hadn't happened. And it was certainly going to be another point against the ewe when it came to the looming talk she was set to have with Dorian.

Once again, it seemed they had managed to get swept into another debacle, only this time they really had done it to themselves. But despite the extra challenge the two would now have to endure thanks to their little slip up, there was one thing the ewe knew for certain. Regardless of the consequences, or what breaking the house rule might do to her and Audrey's fledging relationship, the immutable fact remained that Dawn had damn well needed that.

"I don't see anybody poking their heads out to look for us." Vernon muttered, pulling his head back in from between the stalks of corn. "I-I mean it's been ten minutes...maybe-"

"Vernon, listen!" Dawn grumbled, holding her hooves out and gesturing to the air around them. She remained silent for a few moments as she waited for the wolf to process the sounds.

"Half the county is still howling!" Dawn added. "They heard us!"

Vernon placed his paws up defensively. "I know they heard us!"

Dawn sighed, placing her head in her hoof. "I can't believe we did this..." The ewe slowly dragged her head out of her hoof, letting out a groan as it pulled at her facial features on the way up. " That I couldn't keep my urges under control for two more days! I should have just said no!" Dawn hissed. "No! No! No!"

Dawn heard Vernon whine, and turned her attention back to the large wolf to find looking at the ground. Vernon's ears sagged as he idly kicked at the soil beneath him.

"I-I'm sorry Honey Lamb...I didn't want...I mean..." The wolf ran a paw through his tuft of head fur before starting to chew at his claws.

Dawn let out an exhausted sigh, placing a hoof to her forehead as she regarded the wolf. She hadn't meant to be so flippant with her mate. She was irritated certainly, but more with herself rather than anyone else.

"I-It's both of our faults Puppy, it's not just yours." Dawn lamented. "We both messed up." The ewe walked over the Vernon, taking his paw in her hoof as she flashed him a sad smile. The wolf let out a soft whine as he gave her hoof a squeeze.

"I-I know, but I-" Vernon let out a sigh as he ran a free paw through his scalp. "It was my dumb idea, and I pushed ya into it. I should have-"

"What's done is done now Puppy." Dawn said with a sigh. "All we can do now is try to deal with it the best we can. Together." The ewe offered the wolf an earnest smile as she playfully swung his clasped paw back and forth. The wolf managed a weak smile of his own in return.

"Together...right." Vernon replied firmly, giving the ewe a brisk nod before poking his head back out between the corn stalks, this time pulling the ewe forward as he did so. Vernon spread the stalks wider as he looked back toward Dawn, gesturing with a nod that she join him as he peered at the house from afar. Placing her own hoof against the split stalks to help the wolf hold them aside, Dawn glanced out at the sleepy homestead in the distance. In the darkness of the encroaching night, the warmly lit windows cast a variety of shadows across the expansive empty field leading up to the corn stalks. Each leaf, branch or other assorted bit of light brush caused the scattered light to flicker across the expanse as they blew through the scene. However inside the lit windows, the light remained firm and unwavering, telling the ewe that none of the Hunters were currently looking back toward them. As the ewe continued to watch, she came to the realization that the area around the home had also grown oddly quiet. Despite the stray howls still ringing out across the nearby farms, it appeared those inside the house had long ceased in their reply.

"Should I be looking somewhere specifically Puppy?" Dawn asked, holding a hoof above her eyes in an effort to focus her vision.

"Back porch." Vernon replied, pointing a claw toward the left of the Hunter Ranch. "On the left side."

Adjusting her gaze the ewe could see the large covered porch connected to the back end of the property. The pale glow of what appeared to be a single naked light bulb filtering through the green mesh hazed panels of insect netting. Aside from being well lit, the porch seemed as quiet and empty as the rest of the Ranch at the moment. As far as Dawn could tell, the lack of harsh shadows cutting against the light meant there was no one was waiting for them there either.

"It looks empty." Dawn muttered softly.

"Yeah, but more importantly the kitchen lights are out." Vernon replied, again pointing a finger toward the rear of the home. Now that Vernon had pointed it out, the ewe easily noticed the tall and darkened windows just to the right of the porch.

"That tells me dinner is long over, and Ma's done cleaning dishes." Vernon continued.

"So, what does that mean for us?" Dawn asked, her eyes still fixed on the darkened windows.

"If we go through the back porch, that'll put us right in the downstairs hallway." Vernon said quietly, slowly drawing his finger along the home as if he were plotting the route on a map. "All we have to do is sneak through the hall and get to the basement door at the end of it." His finger drew further across the home, stopping somewhere in the middle. "If we can get there, we can hide out until we figure out how to best confront Ma about what happened."

"A-are you sure Audrey wouldn't just come looking for us there right away?" Dawn asked, arching an eyebrow at the wolf. "I mean, she knew to look for us there last time. I can't imagine she's going to think we're still outside after an hour or two goes by."

"I don't think we'll need an hour Floofs." Vernon turned his attention back to Dawn, flashing her a weak smile that Dawn could only assume was meant to appear confident. "I mean, as long as we get our stories to line-up we'll be alright...and they ain't exactly too different already."

Vernon was more or less right, at least in Dawn's eyes. There wasn't too much that really needed fleshing out when it came down to what had happened. They had mated, and there was no way they could simply lie their way out of it. The howl was overwhelming proof as to what had been done. But as for what lead up to it, and the overall why, those could possibly be framed in a softer and more sympathetic light. It was something the ewe had done before in her political days, back when she regularly had to pull Lionheart out of his own public debacles along the campaign trail. And all things considered, some of the lions escapades were certainly worse than the ewe's current situation. Whatever she could craft wouldn't be able to get them out of trouble, but at the very least might earn them a bit more leniency when it came to facing Mother Hunter.

Dawn shuddered as she thought of Audrey again. She wasn't sure exactly what to expect when it came time to face the she-wolf, but she certainly wasn't looking forward to it. She had been the first to accept Dawn into the family, and stood up for the ewe like one of her own at the family food stall, and Dawn had repaid her by breaking her trust.

"Okay, lets move to the porch as quickly and quietly as we can." Vernon said, snapping the ewe out of her increasingly worrying train of thought. The wolf had already began to move through the stalks only for the ewe to tug harshly at his paw.

"Vernon wait!" Dawn protested, stopping the wolf in his tracks. Vernon arched and eyebrow as he eyed the ewe in confusion.

"What?" The wolf replied.

"W-what about the picnic stuff?" Dawn asked, raising the edges of the blanket she had wrapped around her in an effort to emphasize her point.

"Just leave it." Vernon replied. "I'll get it later, after this is sorted out." The wolf quickly turned his attention back to the Hunter Ranch. "Now c'mon, while it's still clear!"

With a shrug, the ewe cast the blanket off of her shoulders, leaving the incriminating evidence of their misdeeds in the field as the couple made their way back toward the Hunter home. Vernon had broken into a light jog, and the ewe did her best to keep up despite the difference in stride between the pair. It didn't take very long before the two found themselves at the base of the porch stairwell, looking up toward the back door of the home. Thankfully, the first screen door that separated the outside from the closed porch had been left wide open. From the way it looked, with it's peeling faded deep green paint and coiled hinges Dawn could tell it would have certainly made a lot of noise just to open and close it. Dawn bumped into Vernon's leg as the wolf came to an abrupt halt just short the first step.

The wolf placed a paw above his eyes, craning his head in an effort to stare into the tall dark windows close to the porch. Dawn stayed close to Vernon, clutching at the wolf's pant leg as she waited for a response.

"Well the kitchen is still dark, and I can't really see anyone in there right now." Vernon whispered.

"How can you be sure?" Dawn replied in a hushed tone of her own.

Vernon let out a soft whine as he looked back at Dawn. She could see an nervous uncertainty behind his eyes. "W-well I mean, I can't be one hundred percent sure." The wolf tugged at his shirt collar. "But it ain't like Ma could do dishes in the dark."

Dawn gave a meek nod of agreement as the wolf turned his attention back to the porch. He remained still for a moment, seeming hesitant to push forward as he eyed the first step. But eventually the wolf raised a shaking foot before gently easing onto the old wooden stairs. With the slight pressure, the old planks gave a weak groan under his foot causing large wolf to immediately freeze in place.

"Easy now..." The wolf whispered, his ears now flat against his head. Dawn could feel the muscles in Vernon's leg tense as she remained gripped to it, but she could also feel him shifting forward. The wolf was slowly applying more of his weight as he leaned into the step, until eventually, with little fanfare he had put his full weight on it. Once his weight was firmly planted down through his leg, the wolf quickly slipped the other onto the same step, wincing slightly as it let out another weak groan before falling silent once more. Vernon glanced back at Dawn with a weak grin.

"O-okay..." Vernon said in a hushed tone. "I'm gonna move to the next step now. And when I do, you get on the first, okay?"

Dawn gave a brisk nod. Unlike the last instructions the wolf had given her, she was going to follow the new ones to the letter. Dawn bit her hoof as she watched the wolf repeat the process he had with the previous step, freezing briefly with each creak as he edged his way up to the second stair. Once he seemed satisfied with his progress, he gestured for Dawn to make her move.

The ewe gulped slightly as she placed a hoof on the first step. However, unlike Vernon, the step remained completely silent as she eased her weight onto it. It ultimately took her a third of the time Vernon had spent getting onto the step himself. The wolf shook his head, flashing a genuine smirk as he looked at Dawn.

"Thank the gods I have such a light mate." Vernon said with a quiet chuckle.

Dawn flashed the wolf a smile of her own, making sure to keep her giggling on the inside as she waited for the wolf to make his next step. Slowly but surely the wolf moved up to the lip of the actual porch, repeating the same process he had before. Once the wolf was firmly planted on the porch, his step became more casual as he shifted out of the way of the stairs. Placing a paw on the frame of the door, he gestured the ewe forward again.

"Porch is in better shape than the stairs, you won't have to worry as much once yer up here Darlin'" Vernon whispered.

The ewe nodded as she made her way to the second step, and quickly the third and final. Now standing on the deck, the ewe let out a sigh of relief. Her tiny frame had managed to smoothly make it up to the porch without so much as a peep from the old steps.

"Don't get too relaxed just yet Floofs." The wolf said quietly, gesturing to the old screen door that stood between them and the open hallway. "That old door is noisy as hell when you close it, and how loud it is doesn't exactly depend on how much we weigh."

Dawn felt another lump form in her throat as she sidled up to the wolf. Once again the ewe clutched her hooves tightly on the fabric of his pant leg.

"L-Lead the way Puppy." Dawn muttered, using a free hoof to gesture toward the rickety old door.

She could hear the wolf let out an audible gulp as he began to shuffle forward, each step slow and methodical as he approached the entrance to the hall. Once he was just a foot or so away, the wolf stopped in his tracks. Reaching out, Vernon wrapped his fingers around the tarnished bronze handle of the interior screen door.

The wolf let out a long sigh, and Dawn could feel the muscles in his leg tighten as he stood with his paw gripping the aged door handle. The ewe had already begun to brace herself as the wolf remained frozen in his stance. She was unsure of when he was going to muster the courage to open the door, and what kind of noise might come from it when he did, but the longer he waited the more it put the ewe on edge. She could easily see into the hall through the screen from where she stood, and while no one was in there at the moment, the longer they waited only put the pair more and more at risk. After what seemed like an eternity the ewe opened her mouth to speak, but it was in that moment Vernon chose to move.

In one swift motion the wolf ripped the door wide open. The action had been so sudden that the ewe released her grip on the wolf's leg, recoiling in fear as she anticipated the loud groan that was about to cut through the silence they had fought so hard to keep. But it never came, and as the ewe opened her eyes she could see the wolf was still holding the door wide open. The wolf let out a harsh, ragged exhale as he glanced back at the ewe.

"Sorry..." Vernon voice trembled slightly as he whispered. "It doesn't creak if you open it fast. Only if you try to open it slow."

Dawn gave him a small swat, puffing her cheeks as she glared back at the wolf.

"You think you could have warned me first!?" Dawn hissed quietly, trying her best to keep the irritation in her voice at a low volume.

"I know I should have okay!" Vernon spat in a hushed tone. "I just forgot till I had my paw on the handle. It's been a while since I've been out here Lamb Fry!"

Dawn let out a annoyed sigh as she held a hoof over her chest. Her heart was still thrumming loudly due to the scare, and the ewe began to take slow and methodical breaths in an effort to slow it back to its normal tempo.

"I'm sorry Darlin', I'm sorry." Vernon added as he began to slip inside, keeping his arm holding back the door rigid against it. "But we don't have time to hash this out here, we need to keep moving."

Dawn nodded, letting out a quiet sigh as her heart rate returned to normal. Slipping in close behind the lumbering wolf, Dawn watched as he carefully eased the screen door back into the frame behind them. Unlike when the wolf opened it, Vernon now seemed to be taking great care to seal it shut as slowly as he could.

"Now closin' it..." Vernon muttered, briefly glancing down at the ewe. "That's a whole different affair."

The door had managed to remain so silent upon being wildly opened, yet now it seemed ready to make noise at the slightest hair of movement. With every inch or so gained, the door would emit a miniscule creak causing the wolf to stop and wince before continuing. The odd silence of the Ranch only added to Dawn's anxiety and the eternity of time it felt like was passing as she watched the door sliding it to place.

Finally, with a barely audile click, the screen door laid quiet in it's frame, successfully sealing them inside the Hunter abode with barely a peep. She could hear Vernon let out a relieved sigh.

"Alright..." Vernon whispered as he crouched down to the ewe's level. The wolf briefly glanced toward the darkened doorway to the kitchen before looking back at Dawn. "We just need to take the hallway straight down, and we're home free."

Dawn swallowed hard before giving the wolf a reluctant nod as she once again latched herself to Vernon's leg. At the end of the hall she could see the basement door, the couples safe haven. All they needed was just a half hour, maybe less before she was ready to confront Audrey. Just long enough to figure out where to begin before readily facing the music.

The wolf took a quiet step as Dawn remained locked to his hip, her eyes darting around as she scanned in every direction. One moment she was staring into the darkness of the kitchen, to the porch door, then back to the basement that lingered just out of reach. But as her eyes shifted away from the kitchen on another nervous pass, she could swear she saw something shifting in the dark. The lamb quickly pivoted her glance back into the darkened parlor, doing her best to peer into the blackness to where she had thought she had seen something. But despite her best efforts, all she could see was inky blackness. The ewe tried to reassure herself that it was nothing, merely the trick of the poor night vision that sheepkind were so well known for, and yet something in the pit of her stomach told her that it was worth bringing to Vernon's attention. At the very least the wolf could take one more look into the kitchen with his keener sense of sight to put the ewe's fears at rest.

"Ver..."

"Ahem..." With the sudden voice came a loud snap as the hallway suddenly illuminated in the spotlight of harsh electric lighting. Dawn immediately turned to find that the kitchen lights had come on, and much to her horror, it hadn't been empty as Vernon had initially guessed. It turned out the ewe had seen something looming in the dark. Sitting in front of the sink, with her arms folded up tightly as she leaned on of the dining room chairs, was Audrey.

Dawn's heart had managed to leap into her throat so harshly that she inadvertently let out a small squeak before scurrying behind the large wolf she had been practically fused to, only allowing for her head to peer out as she looked back Audrey's way. The ewe could feel her blood freeze as the she-wolf glowered at the pair, her muzzle twisted in a disapproving scowl. Of all the mammals to catch them slinking back into the house in shame, Audrey was the last one Dawn prayed they would run into unwittingly. Dawn had so desperately wanted time to figure out what to say, to face the Mother wolf on her own terms and come clean in a way that was upfront with the wolfess. At the very least the ewe could appear to have some dignity left, choosing to confront Audrey rather than to hide. But being caught like this made it look exactly as though that had been the case. As if the couple had foolishly thought they could get away with what they had done.

Dawn swallowed hard as she looked to Vernon, who appeared almost equally as mortified as she was. The wolf's height had dropped by nearly a foot as he cowered, his ears tight against his head as he bit his lower lip.

"M-Ma!" The wolf barked weakly.

The she-wolf's glare remained cold and unrelenting. It felt as though pure ice was pouring out of her eyes and directly into the ewe as she stared back in mute horror.

"D-Dawn and I, we we're j-ju-"

"Sit." Audrey said coldly, motioning to the two chairs set in front of her before crossing her arms again.

Vernon was trembling slightly, not that Dawn was doing much better. But the wolf remained frozen in his stance. The wolf was seemingly glued to the floor as his eyes darted around nervously. Without Vernon to usher her forward, the ewe remained just as paralyzed as her mate, practically fused to his hip as she gripped tightly around the back of his leg.

"Listen Ma, we-"

"SIT!" The she-wolf commanded firmly, her voice filled with irritation as she flashed her teeth.

In an instant the ewe found herself standing by herself in the now illuminated hall archway. Vernon was practically falling over himself to get to the nearest chair, nearly knocking it over in the process before clumsily taking a seat in front of the angry she-wolf. Dawn was quick to follow suit, wasting no time to scurry up to the remaining chair, her hooves clattering against the hardwood as she scrambled toward the open seat. As Dawn approached, Vernon prepared to give her a boost into the high seating. But Audrey was quick to swat his paw away.

"She can get up by herself." Audrey said flatly, flashing Vernon a icy glare.

That edge on Audrey's voice was enough to get another hard gulp out of Dawn as she rounded the seat corner. Her eyes remained locked to the floor as she began to pull herself up onto the cushioned seat. It was certainly harder to get up without Vernon's help, but Dawn had no intention of complaining. Once she had finally managed to seat herself on the cushion successfully, the ewe quickly turned her focus to her idle hooves as she braced herself for what was coming.

"We have one rule in this house." Audrey said, her eyes shifting back and forth between the pair.

"But M-"

"ONE RULE!" Audrey raised her voice as she cut the wolf off, causing Vernon to shrink further into his seat. Dawn only glanced at her mate briefly before returning her attention back to twiddling her hooves.

"Whenever one of ya'll come home to visit, you behave." Audrey continued, her voice remaining cold and even toned. " Ya'll don't fool around on the premises."

Dawn continued to stare at her hooves, wringing them nervously. The ewe was an adult, a fully grown lamb and she knew it. But yet, she couldn't bring herself to look up at Mother Hunter. The very idea of looking Audrey in the eyes after what she and Vernon had done was absolutely mortifying. And unlike the other situations where the ewe had felt the need to try to step in, Dawn felt it was best to remain as quiet as possible. Whatever the she-wolf had to say was more than warranted, and the faster they could move past the scolding, and move on to the sentencing, the better for Dawn's sake.

She heard the wolfess let out a long and tired sigh.

"I felt it was a pretty straight forward rule." Audrey lamented. "One I felt the reasons behind were fairly obvious to everyone in this family."

Dawn heard a soft whine come from Vernon as she remained fixated on her hooves.

"But I guess I'm going to need to explain exactly why we don't 'rut' like mindless animals when visitin' this house!" Audrey's voice rose at the end of her statement, causing Dawn to slink further into her shoulders.

The squeak of a chair brought Dawn's attention up from her lap only for a brief moment, but as she glanced up she could see Audrey had risen to her feet, turning her back to the pair. The she wolf made it just a little easier for the lamb to keep her eyes on her, but Dawn maintained a low eye-line should she abruptly face them. She warily watched as Mother Hunter walked to the sink behind her, reaching over it and grasping the window ledge. With a heave the older wolf thrust up the shutter allowing the crisp night air to pour in through the now open window. The cool Autumn breeze carrying with it the song of crickets, as well as the faded chorus of howls that were still ringing out across the rural community. With the window wide open the wolf snapped her attention back to the pair, and Dawn's head summarily shot back down toward her lap.

"There's reason number one." Audrey muttered. "I take it ya'll can hear that raucous."

A brief moment of silence hung over the kitchen, a moment Dawn first assumed was meant to make the howling sink in, that was until Audrey continued.

"Do ya'll hear it?" Audrey added, her tone rising slightly.

"Yes'm..." Dawn heard the weak reply from Vernon.

"I'm sorry, what was that Vernon?" Audrey said, louder now.

"Yes Ma'am." Vernon said more firmly.

Audrey let out another terse sigh.

"Thanks to ya'll two gettin' frisky outside, the entire county is in a howl frenzy! In no small part thanks to yer brothers amplifyin' the call!" Audrey snorted. "Now I gotta worry about all o' the North Meadowlands thinkin' I'm playin' host to some kind of Hunter family orgy!"

"Ma, t-that's a bit overdramatic don'tcha think?" Vernon stammered.

"Overdramatic!? Boy-! Mhhh!" Audrey let out a loud huff. "You know as well as I damn well do that wolves can tell what kinda howl it is when they hear it!"

"I-I know but-"

"They ain't here to get the story though! All they're hearin' is five er' more howls that all scream 'I got laid' comin' from THIS RANCH!" A sudden clatter made Dawn jump in her chair to catch sight of the she wolf throwing a wooden spoon harshly in a nearby drawer. She was still standing, but had begun pacing back an forth as she continued her irritated tirade. "And they'll gossip with the other neighbors who aren't wolves, and paint all sorts of unseemly pictures of what goes on here! I already got enough trouble with all the baseless crock of gossip that festers 'round these parts without my son addin' to it by lettin' his pecker do his thinkin' for him!"

"And..." Audrey's angry tone seemed to break slightly. "That brings me to the other reason we have that rule in place." The she-wolf's voice dropped further, becoming more sullen, and as Dawn peeked back from her lap she could see Audrey had placed her head in her paw.

"L-look, I know ya'll are adults. When ya'll bring your mates back home, I ain't thinking all you do is play pattycake or some nonesense behind closed doors." Audrey sighed, shaking her head. "Adults in love have needs..."

"B-but when my boys come home...they're my boys." The she-wolf whimpered slightly. "I'll always see them as my little pups, every time I look at them. And I know it may seem silly, but..." Audrey grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink, taking a moment to dab the corners of her eyes before taking in a harsh drag of air. "When they're here I can sort of...pretend they are still my little pups, I can sort of imagine it was like the old days."

"I-I know Ma..." Vernon whined.

"And if ya'll do...what ya'll did..." The she-wolf sniffled. "It sorta shatters that little illusion for me." The she-wolf let out a sorrowful whine.

By now Dawn's mind was swirling with a mixture of painful feelings. Shame at the pairs sexual congress being broadcast for the whole home to hear. Guilt for hurting the she-wolf who was first had welcomed her with open paws. The knot in her stomach grew as the wolfess continued, each sentence cutting at Dawn more and more.

"I mean, I thought you'd understand. You boys feel the same way about me and yer Father." Audrey gave another hard sniffle, seemingly trying to regain her composure. "How would ya'll like it if you accidently caught me and Dori in the middle of-"

"Okay! Okay! Stop!" Vernon quickly cut the wolfess off. "I don't want to picture that!"

"Well what am I supposed to picture now huh?" Audrey hissed. "Ya'll busted my illusion. Now I gotta try to pretend I didn't hear that howl! That I don't know what went on out there!"

"It's my fault, I'm sorry Ma! It's not like I can just take it back!" Now Vernon's voice was starting to rise.

"It takes two to tango Vernon!" Audrey snapped back. Dawn could feel the she-wolf's eyes on her despite not rising to meet them. "And unless you were out there ruttin' a pumpkin you ain't the only one I should be sore at!" The wolfess spat.

"I'm sorry! But I had to help Floofs, she was suffering!" Vernon protested.

"Vernon, I get it." Audrey sighed. "I know what heat feels like, I've been there. It can be agonizin'." Dawn could see the wolfess shake her head before turning her way, causing the ewe to return to wringing her hooves.

"But ya both ain't teenagers." Audrey continued. "I know it's embarassin' to endure, and can make ya feel sick, but I don't think it's too tall an order to ask ya both to keep it together for the weekend, is it?"

"A-Audrey." Dawn balled her fists tightly as she mustered the courage to finally face the she-wolf. Biting her lip, the ewe finally forced her head up to meet the older wolf's gaze. Dawn reflectively winced as the sadness in to wolf's eyes flushed a fresh pang of shame through the ewe's body. Dawn shuddered, but managed to find the strength to press on.

"I-I'm so sorry. It was my fault really." Dawn continued.

"Honey Lamb." Vernon said in shock, placing a paw on the ewe's shoulder. Dawn pushed down the tears she felt building beneath the surface. She was going to get through this without crying.

"I-It was just a moment of weakness." Dawn let out a shuddering sigh. " And I was the one who ended up pushi-"

"No Lamb Fry. It was my dumb idea." Vernon cut her off. "And it didn't even work the way-"

"But if I hadn't egged you on." Dawn interjected. "If I hadn't been so insistent."

"Alright, alright, it's both of ya'lls fault." Audrey tutted. "We already knew that, and I'm getting more and more uncomfortable with how close the two of ya'll are skirting to..." The wolfess paused, her muzzle scrunching up in distaste. "describin' things."

Vernon let out another soft whine, a deep blush forming on his muzzle as he looked down at his own lap. The ewe would have loved nothing more than to follow suit, the shame urging her to break eye contact with Audrey, but somehow she managed to overcome it.

Audrey let out another sigh as she leaned back against the counter, giving a slow, disapproving nod as she appraised the couple.

"Now I suppose all we're left with is doling out punishments." Audrey said, placing a finger to her chin.

"Aw Ma, c'm-."

"Vernon!" The she-wolf scolding, throwing Vernon another glare. The wolf's ears drooped, but now his attention remained on his Mother as she repeatedly tapped a claw against her muzzle.

"Hmm..." Audrey rolled her eyes, evidently mulling over various options in her head as to the best method of taking the couple to task. Despite managing to keep her chin up, Dawn continued to wring her hooves as her anxiety only deepened.

"Vernon, I think I'm going to have ya'll clean every dish from now until you two leave on Monday." a smug grin crawled across her muzzle as she reached a paw toward the automated dish washer situated near the sink. With a tug, she threw the large door open revealing that it was practically filled to the brim with unwashed dishes, cups, and silverware. "Luckily for you, I hadn't run this load just yet." Audrey's grin deepened into a more satisfied smile. "And you're going to be doin' it by paw. This machine is off limits."

"Ma!" For the first time Vernon actually looked annoyed. "This is ridiculous! You said it yourself, we're both adults!"

"Vernon" Audrey's tone was low and firm, but her eyes gleamed with a spark that told the ewe she was closed to losing her composure in the face of Vernon's protests.

"You can't just punish us like we're pups!" Vernon continued. "Besides, it ain't like we're the only ones who've broken the house rule be-"

"Vernon James Hunter don't you sass me!" Audrey snapped, causing the wolf to slink back into a cowed stance. Dawn couldn't help but be slightly impressed by how quickly the wolf's full name being uttered had taken the wind out of his sails. The amazing power that all Mothers seemed to have when it came to scolding their child, a true set of magic words. In that moment the ewe was thankful Audrey didn't know her full name, lest the magic might easily carry over and make the ewe that much more miserable.

"You know as well as I do that anyone who breaks that rule gets punished!" Audrey continued. " I ain't gonna make an exception now! Take a page from yer brothers and accept yer sentence like an adult!"

Vernon let out a whimper, his eyes shifting back to his lap as he began to wring his paws.

"Yes'm." Vernon replied quietly.

Audrey's satisfied smile returned. "And where's that picnic gear?" The wolfess continued. "You know you gotta clean that too..."

Vernon let out another whine.

"And the grill, yer cleanin that." She added.

"Ma, I barely used it!" Vernon piped up. "It was only roasted co-"

"Vernon James so help me-!" The she wolf hissed, causing the wolf to recoil again. With the ornery wolf easily beaten back into submission, the she-wolf let out a tired sigh.

"Go'on outside and round up yer gear." Audrey muttered. "And come right back here! I want you arm deep in dirty dishes in ten minutes or less."

Vernon let out a quiet grumble before slowly rising from his seat. The wolf began a slow shuffle back to where the two had entered, all the while his head remaining turned down toward the floor. It was certainly an unusual sight when it came to the large wolf, at least to Dawn. He looked so crushed and defeated, completely submissive in the face of Audrey's scolding. But she supposed it was once again the result of a power that could only be weld by the hands of a parent.

"C'mon Dawn..." Vernon muttered, gesturing for the ewe to accompany him back out into the dark, fall evening.

"Oh no, she's stayin' inside boy." Audrey was quick to snap back, earning a gulp from the ewe.

Vernon's eyes widened in surprise. In a flash the wolf had puffed back up, seemingly ready to fight. "Ma you can't be-!"

"Did I stutter!?" Audrey raised her voice, causing the wolf to immediately shrink back into his shoulders. The wolf shook his head weakly, giving a meek no.

"Then scat!"

With that, the wolf quickly scurried back into hallway before slipping out of sight. Dawn heard the screen door make a loud clatter as the wolf presumably exited the home before leaving nothing but uncomfortable silence hanging in it's wake. It was just Dawn and Mrs. Hunter now, and the prospect was nothing short of terrifying.

Audrey glanced down at the now trembling lamb, but to Dawn's surprise, her glare softened as her muzzle slunk into a frown.

"And as for you Ms. Bellwether." Dawn had been wrong, just the last name was enough to make the ewe slink further into her seat. The wolf's sorrowful tone made the name sting that much more, as if she had simply lost faith in the ewe, and it was a feeling she found that much more unbearable than just her anger.

"I-I'm honestly surprised at you..." Audrey tutted. "I thought you were stronger than that..."

Dawn let out a soft whimper. Unable to keep up the eye contact, her eyes dropped back down to her hooves.

"I-I'm so-so sorry Mrs. Hunter, really I am!" Dawn protested, doing her best to remain somewhat stalwart in the face of her overwhelming guilt.

The she-wolf let out a long and tired sigh.

"I want you to take some time to think about what ya'll did." Audrey said somberly. "Ya'll can go anywhere as long as it ain't to help Vernon. I think you two need a little time apart considerin'."

Dawn looked up at the she-wolf, blinking at her in surprise at the oddly lenient sounding punishment.

"I-Is that it?' Dawn stuttered.

Audrey shook her head slowly. " It's the same punishment I give all the girls the first time 'round." The she-wolf pushed herself away from the counter. "Because what matters to them is my trust more than anything." Audrey sighed. "And right now ya'll have wounded my trust in you."

Dawn felt her heart drop in that moment, giving rise to the burning urge to cry. The fact that she had hurt her standing with the she-wolf was an agonizing prospect, something Dawn wasn't sure she could even handle. After all Audrey had done for her in the two days she had been out here, this is how Dawn had repaid her? The ewe was starting to feel sick as she fought back the tears.

"I'm not sure how long it's gonna take to fix that trust, but dependin' on what you come back to me with after thinkin it over, it'll go a long way." Audrey crossed her paws as she frowned down at Dawn.

Dawn gave a meek nod, taking a hard sniffle before easing herself off the dining room chair, starting a shuffle of her own back toward the hallway.

"I-I'm sorry Mrs. Hunter." Dawn said as she neared the hall entrance.

"Me too Dawn." The she-wolf replied. "Me too."

As Dawn rounded the corner, a mantra began to play over and over inside her mind. 'I will not cry.' The thought repeated. 'I will not cry'. The ewe leaned against the nearby wall, letting out a sigh as she allowed her body to slide to the floor. Dawn took a deep breath, trying her hardest to suck the guilt and pain deep down before attempting to let it all out in one long exhale. Dawn repeated the process again, and a third time as she felt the tension begin to ease slightly. It helped somewhat. It had at least managed to extinguished the beginnings of tears that had been stinging the corners of her eyes. But the uncomfortable emotions still lie entrenched deep in her chest. She had hurt Audrey, soiled the faith the she-wolf had been willing to put into her. Dawn was determined to do anything she could to repair the trust she had endangered between herself and the she-wolf, and playing host to a pity party wasn't going to help in that regard. The ewe was keen on making good on her faux-pas through action and resilience. Instead of shedding tears, she would find a way to make it up to her prospective Mother-in-law.

'I thought you were stronger than that...' Those words had managed to sting the worst of all. Audrey had thought she was stronger. Dawn had thought she had become stronger. And once again she had proven weak and feeble when faced with the easy or more enticing option at the cost of Audrey's perception of her. The she-wolf had seen her as strong, despite every situation she had failed to rise to during the previous days. And now, she had caused Audrey to doubt herself. That was what Dawn couldn't stand. She wanted to be strong, to prove to herself and Vernon's Mother that she could be strong. And the ewe was going to start by taking Audrey's scolding in stride, and finding a way to show her just how truly sorry she was. Dawn was tired of letting her weaknesses get the better of her, and in that moment, the ewe made a declaration to herself that she would stand tall. That for the rest of the trip she would try her damndest to stand her ground, and make up for every moment she had faltered in the face of confrontation.

The sound of footsteps caused Dawn to quickly jump to her feet, drawn out of her thoughts in time to catch Dorian entering the hall. The large white wolf made his way over to the office door, opening it without so much as looking the ewe's way before summarily slipping inside with a grumble. Dawn wasn't sure if he had seen her, and chose to ignore her, or had simply been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice the petite ewe leaning against the nearby wall. He had left the door slightly ajar, and from where she stood she could hear a few small noises coming from the office. There was a slight clattering of glass and what sounded like a heavy object landing harshly against deflating fabric before the room seemed to settle into an uneasy silence.

'Dorian's alone.' She thought to herself, her mind drifting back to the plan she had discussed with the Hunter sisters earlier in the day. It was a terrible idea to confront him, especially now that Dawn had been the cause of yet another public disturbance the Hunters would be saddled with. But the ewe already knew that no matter how long she waited to act, facing the wolf would never get any easier. It was a looming battle the ewe had no expectations of winning, and was certain would be nothing short of unpleasant. But the opportunity that had presented itself was most likely the best she was going to get. With the fair and her and Vernon's misdeeds in the field still fresh crimes in the eyes of Dorian, facing him sooner rather than later would seem the most professional and genuinely repentant.

"I'm going to make things right." Dawn muttered to herself, balling her fists as she began to walk toward the door. "No more being weak."

The ewe stopped just short of the hard wooden door, freezing in place as her mind began to scream doubts at her. The fresh wounds from Audrey's scolding still stinging sharply, pressing upon her urge to flee.

"I-I am strong." Dawn whispered, raising a hoof up to the door. The ewe closed her eyes, squeezing the lids tightly as she mustered the courage to knock. "I w-will be strong."

Dawn took in a shuddering breath as she finally brought her knuckles down on the hard wood frame, giving it several quiet, albeit erratic knocks. Her nerves had caused her hoof to tremble slightly with each quiet rap, making the knocks almost trilling percussive beats rather than firm and distinct thumps. For a moment the ewe lingered there in silence, waiting nervously for a reply for what seemed like an eternity.

"Come in" Dawn heard the grumbling reply from beyond the oaken door. Dawn took another deep breath as she placed her hoof on the knob, and with a sharp exhale she opened door to Dorian's office.

#Zootopia #dawn bellwether #Assistant Mayor Bellwether #fanfiction #furry #wasted time #ask blog #fan character

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kumulonimbus · 7 years ago

Text

The trade

(Overwatch Halloween one-shot - A troubled ninja, a cursed woman and an eerie pact that seems too good to be true... )

“She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening.”

Angela Carter ― The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories

Once upon a time, a young and troubled man forsook the woman he loved.

He said he needed time – perhaps, also, a little space.

He was a man at war with himself.

His own brother had struck him down but even so and even then, death remained elusive. He had seen the blood tainting his vision red back then; had felt the wrath of such violence taking over him and diminishing his body to a mess of sweat and broken limbs. But even when his heart stopped beating, even when his muscles produced the final spasm, death would not care to visit him.

When he opened his eyes again he couldn’t recognize himself anymore.

They tried to explain to him that they had done everything in their power to keep him alive. They told him about the countless procedures that were necessary, the many hydraulics and artificial mechanisms that were now fully functioning, replacing what used to be organic… but even though their voices were loud and clear he could only see their mouths moving as their words kept on flowing unceasingly.

He could have told them that none of that mattered, that their efforts were pointless; death was simply not interested in such a man like him – yet every time he would try to say those words out loud, her clear blue eyes would surprise him with renewed candor, as if she was able to see beyond the many layers of metal covering the one he was no more.

She, the object of his affection, had been there for him ever since he had opened his eyes.

Angela…

She was a doctor, but she had done so much more for him than just healing his broken body.

She had rescued him, then she had brought him back to life. Then she had stayed by his side, waiting for him to open his eyes to a body that was not his body and a rage that felt immensely foreign yet impossible to extinguish. The metal binding him now felt more like a prison than a solution. Each mechanism keeping him alive seemed to push him further towards a hatred he could not define with simple words.

Angela had done everything for him, she had given him everything: life, shape, love… yet the only thing she had never been able to give him was peace of mind.

So he set out, his determination intact, and sought out those who had turned him into a monster. He took them down, one by one, like a beggar in the night, sheltered by the blackest sky, trying to reclaim what had once been his.

He spared his brother – the one who had ultimately struck him down, the one who had really killed him. In the end, he knew, Hanzo would have to answer to the endless echoes of his own torturing ghosts. But when all was said and done, he was left with no choice but to acknowledge the fact that his revenge had led him nowhere. He still resented all that metal; he still hated the body that was keeping him alive even when she had done everything in her power to keep him by her side.

His many travels and journeys across the world started to breathe some life into the story. Rumor had it that, somewhere in France, far from curious eyes, there was a witch that would often offer interesting trades to wanderers seeking solace.

At first he thought it was just hearsay.

It seemed unlikely for such a creature to even exist.

But as cities begun to pile up upon his tired shoulders, he started to think about those trades – what would she demand in exchange? What could he offer?

It was unlike him to resort to such things. Occultism and witchcraft seemed dubious subjects, to say the least. He was not a man of faith nor did he have a defined personal credo – not anymore. Even when the blood of his ancestors had been spiced up by the mysticism of magic and fantastic creatures, he had never longed for such dark arts to come play with his mind; the occultism was simply too far-fetched for his incipient notions, it was just too contrived, too twisted to be trusted.

And still he went looking for her all the same.

Chateau Gillard was the place – an eerie mansion that had definitely seen better days. Now, sinking slowly into the tenebrous depths of oblivion and abandonment, the place looked as cold as a death specter that comes to pry on others’ lively present in the middle of the night.

The house seemed deprived of all color. The front door and many windows had been bricked up – perhaps they didn’t want any trespassers to come inside. Or maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want a given something, a given someone, to reach the outside.

Taking a deep breath, the silent ninja climbed each vine and each fence until he reached the only window they had chosen not to seclude from the world outside. With just a few steps his vision adjusted to the complete lack of luminosity and color reigning inside the chateau – still the sight of a broken past constricted his throat as he moved inside the mansion: the symptoms of a fractured aristocracy, a type of aristocracy he knew too well to ignore, came to greet him as he stepped further into the misty corridors.

He heard her voice as soon as he reached the top floor.

“What do you have to offer?” The thick French accent was not enough to conceal the obvious: that mouth hadn’t spoken in years.

Still dubious of his surroundings, the ninja decided to follow the voice and so, he stepped inside the great room to his left. The first thing that caught his eye was the fact that the room, a giant chamber that seemed to stretch itself further away from him as he ventured the space, was completely empty. No windows to connect it to the world outside, no bed, no lamps.

Just an old armchair, completely covered in spider webs, crowded by spiders.

They came in all sizes and shapes – from tiny arachnids he could barely see in the darkness of the room to dangerous tarantulas crawling above the smaller ones. He motioned his body towards the darkness trying to pay no mind to the disgusting sound of countless tiny little legs moving all around the armchair but tried as he might to find the woman’s body waiting patiently for him somewhere inside that godforsaken room, his eyes only found the complete vacancy of her absence.

Our lady of spiders, just like the neighbors called her, was nowhere to be found.

Retracing his own steps, the disturbed ninja left the room and went back to the corridor. He had heard her voice, he was sure of it, so perhaps he had checked the wrong chamber. Or maybe he had imagined it, the echo of his own desperate need taking the most ethereal form but only for a fleeting instant, like an incomplete figment of his imagination he couldn’t quite trust. At least, not yet.

Crawling slowly on his silver forearm, the green of his visor flickered when he saw the little red spider. He froze in place almost immediately but before he could even consider the spider’s particularly odd crimson tone the arachnid descended to the ground and stood before him.

When it finally moved, he could have sworn it was trying to guide him back to the room he had just walked out of. So he followed the petite red spider until he lost it in the sea of countless legs walking all over the armchair. Tilting his head to the side, he felt the air leaving his lungs at the sight of all those spiders coming together and emulating a human form. The red spider that had guided him before appeared again only this time, the ninja saw yet another spider, exactly like the one that had caught his attention only seconds ago, walking past the humanoid shape’s mid-section.

He took a step back, instinctively, unable to look away.

Still moving all around the humanoid shape, the countless tiny legs were busy; giving life to a macabre structure that tried and failed to resemble the beauty of the female anatomy. But then all movement stopped all of a sudden, the shape was fully formed: the spiders had successfully conveyed the shape of a tall, lean woman, and the two little red spiders that had caught his attention were her eyes.

The lady of spiders moved closer to the ninja with a pace that was not human but not entirely animalistic either. Her arms, hanging loosely at the sides of her body, seemed to harbor the lazier arachnids but her hips, intrinsically more complex in their design, showed the relentless work of the most authoritarian tarantulas. The man flinched but didn’t walk away, a part of his brain briefly remembering that he had never actually feared spiders, even when the sight in front of him was more than simply difficult to take in.

“I asked you a simple question, stranger.” The creature’s lips moved as the spiders composing its mouth crawled minutely, mimicking the way human lips move to the sounds of words – “What do you have to offer?”

It was clear that the spiders didn’t care about his physical appearance. Robotic or human, the conglomerate of arachnids seemed unable to discern the ninja’s true nature – or perhaps, he pondered, they could sense his humanity hidden underneath all those layers of metal biding him to the body he hated so much.

The ninja put his hands up in a defensive stance and moved cautiously backwards. The more he thought about it, the less convinced he was with the idea of trading something of his with the spiders, for he had nothing more to offer than a part of himself. As his feet kept moving almost soundlessly, already headed for the door, the ninja debated briefly whether to attack the creature or not – it was true that, so far, it had been completely harmless but such an evil design could not be trusted either, but just as his artificial fingers began to toy with the handle of his sword he heard the spiders moving again, their legs louder than ever.

When he turned around he saw the arachnids breaking formation, the humanoid shape becoming undone as a tidal wave of tarantulas rushed its way towards him, pinning his feet to the ground and covering all the way up to his knees. Holding on to the weapon, the ninja realized his mistake but before he had any time to think about his next move, he finally saw her.

Her hand, stretched out and landing on his cold shoulder.

Those golden eyes of hers, like lifeless, bottomless pits he could not bring himself to fully explore.

Her skin was blue.

She was a curse, he thought, a godless anima inhabiting a world that was not hers. A witch, like they all said – or perhaps a demon. Maybe something even worse than a demon: maybe she was the mother of all nightmares.

It was intrinsically hard for the man not to look away as she opened her mouth and small spiders began to crawl their way out of it, hanging from her lips, clinging to her teeth as if holding on for dear life. Their legs like needles, pinching and piercing thought her frigid skin but still, one by one they fell to the ground and quickly pooled around her ankles, joining the countless spiders still covering her up from her shoulders to her feet.

The green light of his visor flickered once again, more violently than before, as he truly sensed the danger in the shape of those tarantulas keeping him captive in their collective type of strength.

“Please, don’t struggle.” The woman said peacefully, “They won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them.”

If she could have seen his face she might have been surprised by his look of complete bewilderment. He was covered in metal; there was no way those spiders could cut through his armored body… but then, the distinctive sound of metallic plates being separated froze the blood running through his veins – the tarantulas were tearing him apart, slowly disassembling the plates that were now his ankles.

Drunker in stupor, the ninja watched soundlessly as the many spiders that were still covering her body began to abandon the woman, revealing the beautiful garment she was wearing – a long, sleeveless dress completely made of silky spider-web. Marveled at the sight of such eerie beauty, the man didn’t notice the spiders were now quickly moving towards him until it was much too late. As they climbed atop him, the ninja realized that their communion truly had a weight of its own – the conglomerate of spiders was crushing his body, keeping him in place, as if trapped inside the layers of metal that were meant to protect him.

“You are running out of time, stranger.” The mysterious woman said as she moved near him. “What do you have to offer?”

The ninja tried to break free but it was pointless – the spiders had successfully restricted his every move. So he just stood before the woman, resolute:

“I thought you said they wouldn’t hurt me.”

She contemplated him for a brief instant, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head to the side. She was no stranger to such sharp tongues, still she laughed quietly at herself before saying:

“They won’t – but they’re not fond of trespassers either.” A half-smile was adorning her face yet her eyes, distant and melancholic, seemed to be too busy remembering the events of another life. “If you’re here to trade, we’re all ears. If not…”

“I have nothing to give you!” The ninja yelled, fear and trepidation getting the best of him.

“Then why did you come?” The blue woman asked in all simplicity.

The ninja shook his head trying to figure out what was bothering him the most: the constant satire of her simple logics, or his own helplessness.

“They say you take away the dark feelings…” He stuttered, ashamed.

Rubbing her hands together in delightful anticipation, the woman stood before him and let her cold hands land on his silver shoulders – “What sort of dark feeling do you want to get rid of? Is it fear? Or hate? Perhaps jealousy…”

He could have named any of those feelings – the fear of a lifetime seeking revenge, the jealousy he would always feel towards any man who could offer Angela a better life than the life he had to offer, all the nightmares plaguing his dreams, the ambivalent nature of what he felt for his brother…

Still he chose hate.

He hated his body – the cage they had built to keep him alive.

“I hate what I’ve become.” He said. “I can’t find peace between this walls – all these metallic layers feel like a prison, keeping my here but forcing me out at the same time. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore. This thing I am now, it’s not what I really am.”

“I can make the feeling go away,” she offered, “You just have to surrender to me the source of such a dark feeling.”

He looked at his own body then back at her,

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The ninja said, almost at the verge of giving up. “This armor you see is not for protection. This is me.”

She moved her hands around his torso, taking in the view. If she had to be completely honest with herself, she had never seen someone so torn, so broken in his whole integrity. With a soft touch from the tip of her fingers, she began to trace a simple, spiraling pattern for the spiders to follow – in a matter of seconds he watched them in awe as the arachnids began to walk around in circles, right in the middle of his chest.

“What if I told you I can offer you life beyond this armor?” Her fingers were relentless, summoning all spiders and making them follow her frantic designs. “What if I told you that you don’t have to live like this?”

For the first time in ages, he felt the warmth of his own tears heating up his damage visage. It just seemed too good to be true, but still…

“And you are willing to accept this metallic body in return?” He asked shyly, knowing too well that the end of his bargain was nothing when compared to everything she was willing to wager: his armor for a second chance, for the body his own brother had mutilated – the chance to resume his life, the endless possibilities for the future that he had already discarded.

Angela… her oceanic eyes in the distance, calling him home.

The blue woman nodded her head, “I’ll take your armor – and your dark feeling.”

“Why would you want that?” He asked, a bit perplexed but still lost in the seducing images flashing right before his eyes.

“It’s not for me.” She said, looking at the spiders dancing across his artificial anatomy, “It’s for them. They feed on such dark emotions… Do we have ourselves a deal, then?”

She offered him one of her hands and he took it, ready to give up the man that he was in order to become the man he wanted to be. The spiders covered him completely as the spider-webs began to cocoon the metal that would no longer bind him. The last thing he saw was the hairy legs of a tarantula walking slowly across his visor.

“One last thing,” he heard her said, her voice becoming a distant echo, “You are giving up your hatred, in the shape of your armor – everything related to it will be gone from your mind, your heart and your soul as well.”

He took one last breath as he thought about the chance of forgetting Hanzo. Even if it was bittersweet, he was positive it was better that way – for the both of them.

He closed his eyes as his mind drifted away – the whole world went black, and he felt his own body fall down to the ground, as if deprived of all gravity.

It could have been hours, or maybe days. Perhaps, even weeks… When the light began to swirl its way through the complex designs in his cocoon the ninja opened his eyes to the image of his own flesh, the skin he had lost, the body he had missed so much – now returned to him.

He broke the cocoon with renewed excitement and searched for the woman but, to his surprise, she was nowhere to be found so he walked around the house, naked as he was, until he found an old red blanket on the floor, in what used to be the living room. He wrapped it up around his shoulders and motioned towards the door, stopping in his way out to take a look in the mirror: the spark in his eyes was back and sure, he was in need of a haircut but there would be time for that…

There would be time for such frivolous concerns, the playboy considered as he laughed quietly at himself.

He stopped once again by the threshold and looked over his shoulder – though he did remember the trade, he couldn’t remember what he had offered in return for such joy nor what had caused him to make a deal with such frightening creature in the first place.

He had it all and, after all, he didn’t need anything… except clothes, of course, but that wasn’t that bad either he thought, as he made his way back towards the city, causing every lady in his path to turn around, look at him and smile tenderly in his direction.

And he smiled back at them, at every single one of them… their naivety and their love had always represented the simplest of sins for him and, deep down, he was sure: the woman for him, the one who could chase him down and capture his heart, hadn’t been born yet.

#overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #halloween #widowmaker #amelie lacroix #genji shimada #mercy (mentioned)

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