#what conclusion to even draw here. hes shaking shivering whimpering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bakugosbratx · 4 years ago

Note

Hiiii! CONGRATS on your milestone! You really deserve them and many more! I saw that request were open and would like to request some noncon/yandere Bakugou where if the reader doesn't cum in said time he will let her go and if she does he claims every single hole? Feel free to sprinkle in bdsm I like it all and I'm a masochist ^^

Warning: 18+ content. Sexual intercourse, masturbation, sex toy(s), cursing, yandere tendencies, abuse, noncon, dubcon, degrading, punishment, overstimulation, breeding kink, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much. I love this idea. Yandere is one of my favorite things to write along with bdsm. I’ve actually been thinking of doing a personal one shot like this so I’m happy you requested it. Hopefully it meets what you’re looking for.

Words: 2,605

You thought you were so slick, masturbating while the pro-hero was at work. You thought you were so clever buying that vibrator online. It was hidden inside a stuffed animal so when Katsuki glanced over your purchase before hitting submit, he never noticed. He thought it was just another stupid stuffed animal you wanted for your collection.

You kept the toy hidden inside the bear, but once Katsuki left, you unzipped the back to pull out the pleasure device. The amount of orgasms and cum you produced was more than you have in months. This was going to be your little secret and Katsuki will never even think to look. Except, you seem to not have noticed Katsuki had cameras. They are hidden, of course, but they are there.

They saw everything and so did Katsuki.

You’re used to Katsuki coming home in a mood when he had a long day at work and honestly, Katsuki could expect the same out of you. So, when Katsuki arrived home with his usual attitude, you didn’t notice.

“Y/N,” he called as he closed the front door behind him. His work boots were already off and resting by the couch along with his gauntlets, mask, gloves, and any other armor. You jogged over to him, a smile on your face as you approached the man.

“Welcome home, Katsuki!” You greet with enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck and a soft kiss on the cheek. This was no different than your normal act you put on. Katsuki trained you to act this way, after all.

Katsuki’s hands rested on your plump ass, his red eyes clearly not showing the same amount of enthusiasm you held. When your irises met his, your smile dropped into a concern frown.

“Been good while I was away?” He asked as usual.

You nodded, “yes, sir.”

“Is that a lie?” Katsuki interrogated, raising an eyebrow. You started to sweat and tremble within his hold. Sadly, he noticed.

“No, not at all.” You managed to utter out. A little too quick for your own good.

Katsuki chuckled scornfully. “Really? Because,” his fingers reached into the front of your pants to swipe your delicate pussy. You started to become flustered as he pulled out his slick covered fingers, clicking his tongue at his confirmed suspicion. “You’re one wet little girl.”

“I-I,” you stammered, tears welling in your scared eyes. You mentally cursed yourself for not keeping track of the time. You were enjoying time with your new toy when you heard the door unlock and Katsuki call your name. Your whole core is a slick covered mess and Katsuki knows about it.

“Bedroom,” he delivers a hard slap to your ass with one hand while pointing towards the hall with the other, “Now.”

Not pushing your luck, you did as your told. Katsuki was closely behind you, his dark crimson eyes glaring at the back of your skull. You should have known better than to think you were going to get away with this. Now, you have to suffer through whatever punishment Katsuki feelings like handing out tonight.

Walking inside the bedroom, Katsuki examined the room. The only thing out of place was the soaked gray towel laying on the wooden bed frame. You did not have time to hide it. You could lie about the towel, the vibrator? Not so much.

“I-I’m sorry, K-Katsuki.” You whined as he grabbed the towel. He shook his head.

“I’m sure you are. Strip.” He ordered. You did exactly that.

You stood still, the air hitting your soaked cunt. Goosebumps arises on your arms and you shiver slightly. Katsuki eyes your slick covered pussy and thighs.

“Bend over the bed, slut.” Katsuki demands, pointing towards the bed. Tears are streaming down your face as you do as your told. He spreads your legs apart more so your cunt can weep some more. Using the soaked towel, he cleans you up. You let out pathetic apologies and whimpers, but this did not make Katsuki any less angry.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.” You repeat with a sniffle, hoping he will show you some mercy when he punishes you. You both know he is a merciless man, though. Your apologies are useless.

Giving your ass another hard slap like earlier, you let out a yelp. “Stand up.” Katsuki orders. As expected, you listen. Katsuki retrieves a dry towel from the bathroom and lay it down on the bed. Your heart is racing and you are clearly nervous.

“Lay down on your back.”

You lay down on your back. Katsuki grabbed your wrist and tied rope around it then proceed to attach it to the bedpost. He did the same action with each limb so you are spread eagle on the bed. So many questions raced through your mind. You didn’t dare ask what his cruel mind wanted to do to your exposed body, but his devious smirk and invading gaze did not help you draw good conclusions.

You were too busy in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Katsuki retrieving your teal vibrator. Your eyes grew wide as he shake it in front of your face. All the dots are connecting and now you understand why he is so mad.

“Look familiar?” He chuckled. “Thought you would really get away with it, didn’t you? I’ve done told you I see everything.”

“Katsuki—“

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N. I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses and pathetic apologies for the rest of the night. You’ve done lied to me more than once. I need to teach your lying ass a lesson.” Katsuki scolds.

Turning the sex toy on the highest setting possible, he lays the vibrator on your sensitive clit. You automatically moan and sob. Katsuki snickers.

“Such a selfish whore. Always want your pussy pleased, but never want to pleasure me in return.” He growls them walks closer to you and grabs your chin so you are forced to meet his gaze. “That changes today. I’ll make you a deal. You don’t cum within,” he gazed at his Rolex then back at you,” ten minutes, I’ll let your ass go. If you cum, though, you are stuck with me for good and I’m going to stuff every hole you got. Deal?”

Not giving you much of an option, you nod. You so desperately want to escape Katsuki. You miss normalcy. You miss your friends and family. You miss the freedoms of being a normal human being. This is your ticket out, you better take it.

Gently slapping your cheek, he smirks. “I’ll come back to check on you in a bit. Have fun, cum loving slut. I’ll have fun stuffing you later.”

You watched as Katsuki left the room. Your moans filled the empty space and your pulsating cunt is already begging for dear release. You struggle against the restraints, panting and whining. You wanted out. Katsuki did not tie the rope gently at all. Even if you were strong, these restraints would be hard to escape from.

What was once enjoyable is now being used as punishment. Regrets seep in. You have already overstimulated your poor pussy today. You are exhausted and all you wanted to do is rest, but the loud vibrations are preventing you from doing so. You attempted to withhold your cum. You wanted to so badly. Not only for a chance of freedom, but you will be dammed if Katsuki fills your holes. You did not want that man’s filthy hands anywhere near you let alone his erected cock.

You did your best to wiggle the device off of your clit, but it was no use as an orgasm arise. Gasp escaped your lips as your pussy cried. Your cum covered your cunt, vibratory, and even squirted onto the bed. You began to feel flustered, but your punishment was not over with. You have several more minutes left and Katsuki does not plan on coming in a minute too early. You will be covered in your own arousal by the time he arrives.

Just like he wanted.

You reached your climax again and again, leaving the towel, sex toy, cunt, and thighs soaked. You’re sweating, panting, and out of moans to release. Another orgasm overcame you when Katsuki walked in. A smug grin was plastered on his face as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you meet your next high. This made it even worse.

“I came just in time. I get to see you be a filthy slut in person.” Katsuki teased. You wanted to glare at him, but your eyes are rolling back and any insult came out as incoherent babbles. Your pussy released more cum much to your dismay and Katsuki’s enjoyment. Embarrassment washed over you as Katsuki came over to pick on you some more.

“You done squirtin’ yet?” He snickered. “You soaked the whole damn bed.”

“Katsuki, please,” you whine and struggle against the restraints, “make it stop.”

“Aw, is someone going to cum again, isn’t she?” Katsuki coo’s, faux sympathy clear in his tone. You shake your head no, but by your lewd faces, he can tell your close again. He glances at your whimpering pussy then back at you. “Yeah, you are. Go ‘head and cum for me. I know you got plenty in there.”

You don’t even have the energy to protest anymore. Any fight you have left has vanished as you release, closing your eyes in the process. Katsuki was sure to watch every moment of it, too.

Katsuki removed the vibrator, turning it off. You let out a sigh of relief, but that relief is short lived once you remember the deal. Katsuki is not going to wait until you are ready to be quote-on-quote ‘stuffed.’ No, he is a man with needs that you agreed to meet if you failed your part. You were doomed from the start, in all honesty. There was no way you were going to succeed and you both knew that.

You were untied, sitting up on the towel. You did not enjoy sitting in your pool of cum, but as usual, you have no say in the matter. Your eyes never left Katsuki as he put back the items. Before putting the sex toy away, he looked at you with the slick covered device in his hand.

“We’re keeping this for future use.” Katsuki smirked. You sigh, regretting even buying the damn thing to begin with. It was only a matter of time until Katsuki got his greedy calloused fingers onto it.

Katsuki returned over to you, looking down at you with disgust. That almost felt worse than the punishment itself. Yes, you hated Katsuki, but somehow, you still craved his approval. You did not like making him unhappy. Your body and bones depended on you making him happy.

“Like sitting in your own filth?” He arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“No.” You answer, bowing your head down in shame.

“Why? Don’t like being reminded how much of a disgusting whore you are?” Katsuki tsk. He has always been the degrading type, but when he is angry and trying to prove a point, he is much worse.

“No.” You replied, whimpering slightly. You refused to look at him, but you know he is enjoying this. He enjoys putting you in your place. He enjoys winning.

Katsuki began taking off the rest of his work clothes. His erected cock is already throbbing from watching you bust everywhere. He may not have been in the room physically, but he sure did enjoy watching you downstairs on the flat screen. He didn’t even need to turn on the sound because your moans traveled down to the living room.

“Get in the position I like you in.” Katsuki instructed. Tears stream down your face. You didn’t want to do it. You’re tired and just the thought of Katsuki putting his length deep within you disturbed you emotionally.

“You deaf or somethin’?” Katsuki growls as he grabs you by your hair and gets close to your face. “I said get in the fuckin’ position.”

You scurry to do as your told, Katsuki letting go of your hair so you can do so. Face down, ass up is Katsuki’s favorite position to fuck you in. He loves seeing all of your exposed holes to please and toy with. Call him greedy, but he knows you secretly enjoy it too. At least, that is what he tells himself as he makes you moan out his name.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Katsuki praises as you get into position. He spreads you open more so he can get a nice view of all of you. Your cunt is damp and ready for Katsuki’s length, but he is deciding to be nice. “Which hole you want me to fuck first?”

Neither, you thought.

“Any.” You huffed out, wanting this over with already. Your annoyed tone bought you a hard slap to your ass. You wince in pain.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.” You cry, instinctively. “My pussy, please.”

Katsuki rubs your ass cheek in approval. His hands hold onto your hips, positioning you the perfect angle to take all of his dick. The tip rest at your weeping entrance then proceeds to slide inside. You cry out in pleasure and pain. No matter how wet you are, no matter how many times Katsuki has sex with you, your cunt will never be able to handle all of his girth. Your tight walls will always hug his length to his enjoyment. Katsuki just can’t get enough.

Katsuki continued his constant rough rhythm, delivering a few slaps to your ass and thighs in the process. He loves seeing your ass bounce as he thrust deep into you. The way you sing him beautiful melodies of moans, groans, and whines just encourages his behavior.

“Katsuki—“ You cry, incoherently, as he hits your ass again.

“What’s the matter? Too much dick for ya?” Katsuki mocks. “Bet that stupid little toy of yours can’t make you feel this good. Look at you, can’t even make coherent sentences. Such a,” he grunts as his dick twitches deep inside you, “dumb fuckin’ slut.”

You grip the bedsheets as Katsuki pushes down on your tailbone to move a slightly different angle. Your breast still bounced though they were pressed against the soaked cotton beneath you. You tried to muffle your moans, but Katsuki will not allow that to happen. He wants to hear you stroke his ego. He wants to be reassured he is making you feel this amazing.

Katsuki continued pumping into your sore cunt until he met his goal. You have no choice but to milk every single drop he has to offer. Once you are nice and full of his cum, he taps your putter thigh.

“Sit up.”

As commanded, you sit up. Your back is pressed against Katsuki’s chest. His hand hugs your neck, squeezing it nicely. You cough slightly, looking up at him.

“Think I better take care of this mouth of yours next. Seems to get you in the most trouble.”

“Please no.” You whisper, more tears falling. Katsuki releases your throat, now holding your chin, and brushes them away with his thumb.

“Don’t want me to stuff your dirty little mouth, hm?”

“I’ll be good, Katsuki.” You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, doing your best to sound small. He liked when you sound weak. “I promise.”

“Y’know better than to make promises you can’t keep. You’ve broken several of them already. Be a good girl for me and get on your knees.”

“Yes, Katsuki.”

©bakugosbratx

#bakugosbratx #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugo katsuki #bnha yandere #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bnha bakugou #mha katsuki #katsukibakugou #bakugo x you #bakugo x female reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugou x reader

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

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I know everyone likes the "secretly good villain whumpee..." but what about when the villain was a rat- bastard with very few redeeming qualities... just being injured and sick and oh so broken. Just begging for mercy, even though they were so arrogant and vicious before.

I melt at those scenarios.

I agree with that. If the villain is secretly good, you might as well call him or her a hero- or at least a vigilante.

Vicious and Bloody

Warnings: gorey(?) description of injuries, maggots, blood, vomit, mention of people dying, pus, field medicine, bathing, vomit, sleep deprivation, pills (tylenol and ibuprofen), attempted murder, implied past torture, hallucinations, fever, delirium

There was no rational answer for the scene in front of her. Not even the greastest minds in history could comprehend it- figuratively speaking. It was just so peculiar, odd and out of place, that it was like from a different dimension.

The said scene would be absolutely mortifying to the squeamish soul. Between the blood and the vomit and the maggots, the sight was more than revolting.

But still, ignoring her instincts to gag and run, Civilian crouched down next to the poor man- not touching, of course, it would only irritate his injuries further and be disgusting on many levels.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Civilian asked the man softly, brushing back the part of his grimey hair that wasn't intoxicated by maggots or too much blood.

But in doing that, she realized that the man wasn't even conscious. Which, was not surprising and brought a small relief to the nervous civilian.

But it also revealed his identity. Even without the foreboding mask, his features unmistakably were those of the most feared and vile human of the city.

Villain.

"If you ever see Villain, call the heroes. If he so happens to be incapacitated, kill him or injure him further to limit his ability of escape or to destroy."

That mandatory lesson rang through Civilian's ears nearly as loud as semi's horn. It was every civilian's responsibility- whether they were a certified hero or not- to hand it or dispose of any being against the government.

Especially Villain.

Especially without any doubt Villain.

Civilian sighed and observed the injured man's face. It was her responsibility to do this, the city would thank her, applaud her.

She brought her hands to Villain's neck and squeezed. His breaths hitched, but he didn't wake, not even to the sensation of suffocation. Civilian squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to rid her mind of the horrendous sight of his already crimson stained face growing even redder... his lips paling then morphing into a grayish blue...

Civilian gasped, drawing her hands away from his neck. The villain's eyes shot open as he tried to fill his lungs, but as he heaved and wheezed, they kept rolling up and sliding closed.

"Hey!" Civilian exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. Villain's eyes shot open and he looked at Civilian with an expression filled with the unthinkable.

Fear.

Villain's lip trembled as he tried his hardest to scoot away. He whimpered something unintelligently and weakly held up a hand as if to protect himself from futher harm- as if the shaking limb could do anything other than wave aimlessly in the air.

Upon coming to the conclusion that escape was impossible, the villain resumed a position of pointless mewling.

"Don't hurt me," he whined, tears streaming down his cheeks, making the small cuts sting and itch. "D-don't hurt me. I've been bad, please don't remind me. P-please." He shifted his head into his elbow and sobbed.

Civilian didn't know what to do with the scenario, so she just allowed him to cry until he was too exhausted to do anything other than whimper pained pleas.

When his eyes started to droop, Civilian wrapped her arms around his upper body and heaved him into a sitting position- somewhat shocked of how limp and pliable he was.

Then she stopped. What was she doing? Villain was the most notoriously evil person in the city, if not the universe. He killed hundreds, thousands even including men, women, and children. He was undeserving of any level of comfort, whether that be love, care, or compassion.

Yet someone had to be worse than him to put him in such a nasty condition.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, clinging to Civilian's shirt with all his might- as little as that was.

"I won't," Civilian promised, smiling down at the injured villain. The villain sighed and closed his eyes.

She had to help him now. It would be practically illegal to turn him in, or harm him even further. Well, metaphorically speaking.

Civilian dragged Villain into her house. Luckily, she owned a one-story, so bringing him to the bathroom was not too big of a deal- apart from the exertion on her slender arms, that was.

Immediately, Civilian stripped off the remains of his tattered clothing and sat him in the tub. Gingerly, she washed out the infection wounds, making sure all the maggots were gone.

After thirty minutes, she only finished the lower half of his body and his back and shoulders were much, much worse. It took another hour to get done with those.

Civilian took a second to catch her breath, she didn't realize how diligently she was working. The villain was completely clean, other than countless uneven holes that looked like someone grabbed his skin and pulled it out.

The next line of business was whether or not to give him stitches. Many of the remainding wounds were heavily infected and would benefit from being dried out.

Many of those infected wounds needed to be drained and removed.

Civilian sighed, thinking of her nursing classes. She had school tomorrow...

Someone was dying.

Someone with the name of Villain.

Civilian ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She ran in through the sharpener a couple times before heating it on the stove to remove bacteria. Here goes...

Civilian cut into one of the infected abscesses and carefully drained the pus out. She sighed and wiped her hands on a papertowel. She should really be wearing gloves...

Villain jerked, suddenly awakening with a shriek. His eyes saw the knife and he froze, staring at it for a long time, before erupting into unstoppable sobs.

"Don't hurt me! P-p-please don't... knife," he wailed, trying to curl into himself.

"Stop it," Civilian tried to reason, clenching her teeth, as she pulled Villain away from himself. He started to rock, back and forth... back and forth... back and-

"Hurts," he whimpered.

"I know," Civilian whispered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm trying to help."

"No. Pain."

"No pain?" Civilian repeated, trying to make sense of what Villain's intent of the statically said statement.

"No pain," he murmured, resting his head against the tub. "Take away."

"I don't have anything for the pain," Civilian told him softly. "Some nyquil, but I'd rather give you tylenol for the fever."

Villain looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please," he begged..

"It's just gonna make you tired, not take away the full extent of the pain."

Villain let out a strained sob and kicked out with his feet. Pouting in the most pitiful way.

"Just," Civilian sighed. "Just. It's gonna hurt."

Civilian leveled the knife to another wound and drained it. Villain writhed in the beginning, but stopped when he realized his fate.

By the time each major abscess was drained, Villain was barely conscious, his head lolling groggily against the bath tub. Civilian gulped. She would have to disinfect the wounds now, but she didn't have anything for it...

Salt water, a saline solution.

Villain's screams did not leave Civilian's memory for a while, even when he was finally asleep on the couch. Civilian aimlessly rubbed his hand, whispering to him as he slept, but it all felt wrong. So, so wrong. All the people he hurt never got the same level of care that he was receiving- as if they had any at all.

But at the same time, it felt right. None of Villain's victim's injuries were as extreme as his- they either died or went to the hospital. Whoever tortured Villain wanted him to suffer, not that Villain wanted people to not suffer...

Crap, this was confusing herself.

Civilian cared for Villain throughout the night. The open textbook on her kitchen table did not even remind her of her class in the morning. Nothing could, especially when someone so sick seeked her hospitality.

Villain's fever raged and he was fed more and more tylenol. Eventually, she started to put ice packs around his neck and major arteries, but he was still so, so miserable.

He started to hallucinate. Sometimes whimpering about a bat flying around his head, or laughing giddily. But one of these episodes really stood out to Civilian.

"Curve, curve," he muttered as his cheek rested against the mattress- for some reason he kept flipping himself to his stomach. "Fall."

"Then cave." The delirious, but intense gaze the villain had made Civilian wonder if he was trying to tell her something in his fevered state.

"Man hurt."

Civilian shushed Villain and gave him a quick sip of water with an ibuprofen tablet. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, scratching at the sheets. "Please."

"I won't, sleep."

Villain slowly, oh so slowly nodded as he allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Civilian took care of Villain as best as she could. She really needed to get supplies, but it was dangerous to leave the villain unattended as sick and injured as he was. Infection set in agai, fever rose...

Civilian groaned and rubbed her head. She had a horrible headache from stress and lack of sleep.

Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt...

When Civilian woke up, seven hours later, she found Villain shivering on the ground with vomit all over him.

"Dangit," Civilian groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

Just dangit.

#villain whumpee #feverish villain #heros and villains #writing #whump #villain x civilian #civilian caretaker #sleep deprivation #tw death mention #past torture #maggots #infection #delirious whumpee #feverish whumpee #sick villain #sick whumpee #injured villain

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

Text

Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 1/3

Happy New Year! The start of 2021 also means it’s time for ✨Captain Swan Neverland New Year✨ so here is my contribution! @neverlandnewyear

Thank you to my co-mods and friends @xhookswenchx and @donteattheappleshook for looking over this for me and also for helping to make my Neverland dreams come true 🥺🥰

This is part 1 of 3 (famous last words)

Rated E for smuts and language

~3200 words

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

Neverland is worse than Hell. Emma’s never actually been to Hell, of course, but it’s an easy conclusion to draw based on the experiences she’s had so far. The heat and humidity is enough to drive a woman mad, and the constant buzzing in her ears from the random insects is becoming nauseating. If she has to swat at her own ear one more time she thinks she’ll snap altogether. But the thing that’s driving her out of her mind most severely is, well, him.

It’s so completely unfair how good he looks. He looks sweaty all the time, but it’s so incredibly sexy because it’s almost as if he’s glistening. The leather clings to his chest in a way that should be illegal, showing off the coarse hair that she’s been dying to run her fingers through.

She gets it, okay? She should be focusing on finding her son and getting the hell out of here. It’s irresponsible of her to be thinking about all the things she wants to do to Captain Hook while on a mission to rescue her kid from Peter Pan. She’s thought it all before. She hasn’t stopped thinking about it. She also hasn’t stopped thinking about him.

She recognizes that she’s behaving childishly. Ignoring him on the ship until he practically corners her in a room is childish. Constantly rolling her eyes at everything he says is childish. But it’s the only thing she can do to keep her damn hands off him.

It became really bad when he started chopping down vines during their trek to make a path through the jungle. The way he swung his cutlass effortlessly through the air until the branches snapped shouldn't have drawn her eyes to the muscles in his back, but it did. And the way he authoritatively led them through the island, begrudgingly telling them all that they needed to know despite how much he clearly hates being here, shouldn't have made her cheeks redden, but it did. Luckily, she can blame that one on the heat of the island.

Honestly, it was only a matter of time. A woman has needs, and when she’s trapped in a dangerous and emotionally exhausting situation for weeks on end, well, who can blame her for taking matters into her own hands… perhaps literally? She nearly loses what little self-control she has left when he starts breaking branches against his knee to use for the fire, his eyes boring deep holes into her own when he catches her staring. Something in her snaps when she wonders what else his strong arms can do.

She chokes down the water inside the coconut she’s (not) enjoying and stands abruptly, noting that her parents have turned in and Regina sits quietly by the fire, and walks past him quickly so that she’s almost at the edge of the clearing when she hears his deep, rumbling voice. “Swan?” he asks, making to stand from his spot beside the fire he always keeps lit.

“I need a minute,” she says under her breath, trying so hard not to turn around and drag him with her. She really just needs a minute away; maybe she can find a stream and splash her face with some water or something.

She’s almost made it out of the clearing when she hears him shuffling behind her, following closely enough that she can feel the heat radiating off of him. Or maybe that’s her. Whatever.

“Hook, I really just need a minute,” she insists. Sure, a part of her still insists on taking matters into her own hands, but what she really thinks she needs is to just be away from the source of her… affliction until she can get over it.

“I heard you, Swan, but it’s dangerous out here on your own. Just allow me to follow behind you to prevent you from falling into any source of danger.”

She rolls her eyes. The last thing she needs is for him to be gentlemanly right now, dammit.

She’s too on edge to argue with him. She thinks anything that comes out of her mouth will be a shout, or maybe that her voice just won’t work at all. “Fine, just... stay away from me,” she finally says, moving swiftly through the thick jungle.

He does something behind her, something between a scoff and a chuckle, and her left eye twitches slightly as fire races through her veins. “If the lady insists,” he says with a timber in his voice that genuinely makes her breath catch in her throat.

“God,” she says, whipping around to face him and finding him standing much closer to her than she expected. “Do you have to talk like that?”

“Like what, darling?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face. He juts his jaw out towards her as his tongue licks along his lower lip, causing her breath to catch.

“Like we’re living in 19th century England.”

“Not sure what that means, my dear, but,” he steps closer to her, raising one brow and smirking as he breathes, “I’m more than willing to let you teach me.”

“Please, you couldn’t handle it,” she says, letting her eyes flutter shut as she shakes her head.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She clears her throat. “Fuck,” she breathes. He cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but so is.

“You need only say the words, love.”

That’s it. He just snapped her like the branches over his knee.

She grabs the lapels of his stupidly ostentatious coat and tugs until his lips are crashing against hers and she’s swallowing his gasp. It’s hot and rushed and wrong, but the fire in the pit of her stomach tells her that something that feels this good can’t be bad.

She slinks her fingers around his neck until they’re pulling at the soft hair at the base of his skull, tilting his head and hers so that the kiss becomes deeper. He groans at the sensations of her fingers running along his scalp in her desperation as his hand finds her jaw and his hook lands on her lower back to tug her against him. When her hips collide with his, she feels the evidence that he wants this as much as she does. Actually, he hasn’t been shy about that, and she’s been in complete denial, so it follows that he probably wants this even more than she does.

She moans far too loudly when he starts trailing his lips down her neck, biting and licking on his way until he reaches her collarbone. She pulls at his hair some more as his wrist continues to press into her back and his hook pokes against her ass. She can hardly breathe as he follows the valley between her breasts with his mouth until he’s shoving her shirt out of the way, likely stretching the fabric beyond repair. She doesn’t care. When his lips press firmly against her hardened left nipple through her shirt, she breathes out, “yes, fuck, yes.”

His hand traces feather-light patterns up her stomach as it reaches under her shirt and forces her bra out of the way until he’s breathing over her exposed nipple. He licks it lightly, just barely making contact but adding enough moisture so that the breeze of the jungle makes her shiver. He then begins sucking it into his mouth and alternating licks and nips until she cries out. She’s so keyed up that she wonders if she can come from this alone. “Is this what you want, Swan? Is this why you’ve been so captious with me lately?” She can’t breathe enough to respond to him verbally, so instead she moans and nods her head as he trails his tongue to her neglected nipple. “Is it because you want me to touch you?” She nods again. “You want me so badly that you can hardly stand to even be near me?”

“Yes,” she moans. He releases her nipple with a pop and moves his deft fingers to the waist of her pants, tickling her skin as he goes. “God, yes. Please take those off.”

He obliges, tugging at her pants until they’re around her ankles before he sinks to his knees in front of her and breathes heavily against her quaking core. She thinks he might press his mouth to her— she’s desperate for him to do just that— but instead, he lifts one of her legs and ducks so that he’s settled between her knees with her pants behind him, caging him close to her once he stands again. “And what will you have me do with you, love?”

She whimpers pathetically when he lifts her at the knees, her core not quite touching him but dangerously close, and she throws her head back and hits it against the tree she’s pressed to. “God dammit, Hook, just touch me.”

He hums out a laugh as he continues to support her weight with his hooked arm and reaches between them with the other, pushing her soaked underwear to the side and stroking a finger up through her folds. “So wet for me already, Swan,” he murmurs darkly against her neck. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me,” she demands again. Then, with a bit more honesty, “make me forget where the hell we are.”

He kisses her deeply, his tongue dancing between her lips, then pulls away to ask, “do you want me to use my hand, or my cock?”

Her breathing stops. She pulls his hair at the base of his neck so that he’s looking at her and can see her pupils blown wide with arousal. “No time for hands,” she tells him breathily, reaching her own fingers down to the laces of his trousers and tugging them loose.

“No? Are you saying you're so wet for me already that you don’t require any... preparation?”

She shakes her head as she reaches inside his slacks and groans when she feels his marble length twitching in her grasp. How something can feel so soft and so hard all at once is astounding, but not as astounding as the amount of space his arousal takes up in her hold.

“Yes. Now would you just fuck me, please?”

“As you wish,” he breathes, guiding his hand to his length and tickling his fingers against her entrance to ensure that she’s slick enough for him to tuck himself inside (she is). When he plunges his cock into her, she cries out again at the pressure and the delicious burn of him stretching her. She was right about him being well-endowed judging by the irresistible feel of him inside her.

He gives her a moment to adjust, then begins to thrust into her at the perfect pace. She’s never experienced that before, usually needing to tell her lover to slow down or speed up several times before they finally get it right. But Killian seems to know exactly what she needs. It’s like he’s a machine, recognizing each of her responses and adjusting accordingly in order to bring her the most pleasure she’s ever felt.

Her shirt has fallen back down so that he no longer has access to her breasts, so instead, he latches his mouth to a spot just below her collarbone and marks her as his, at least in this moment. The way he continues to thrust deeply into her at the perfect angle while his lips roam across her skin sends a shiver down her spine, but when he presses himself more firmly against her to bear her weight so he can move his hand, she nearly screams. His good hand travels to her clit and starts rubbing furious circles against her as his thrusts maintain their steady, perfect pace, and she would be in awe at his coordination if she wasn’t seconds from reaching the most powerful orgasm she’s ever had.

He keeps up with the circles on her sensitive nerves and she tightens her belly and core around him as his velvet length glides through her. She’s never been so close to orgasm in such a short time, possibly not even at her own hands. She can’t stop the manic whimpers and moans coming from her lips as she tightens every part of herself around him before finally letting go as ecstasy washes over her.

He continues to pump into her as she rides out her high, not stopping until she’s a twitching mess before he stops to pull out of her. He holds her close to him as he works himself up with his own hand, somehow still supporting her weight against the tree, before she reaches down and takes over until he’s spilling himself onto the ground at his feet, his head resting against her neck. He kisses against her skin as he comes down from it, and she revels in the softness of his hair at her fingertips for a moment too long.

She realizes what the hell she’s doing once her brain turns back on and then starts wriggling in his hold until he releases the back of her knee and backs up slightly so that her legs fall. Her pants are still on under her boots and wrapped around him, so she’s nearly sent to the ground before he realizes what’s happening and catches her. He ducks down again so that he can free himself and then stands before her awkwardly, his softening length still hanging out of the laces of his trousers.

“That was, uh,” he starts breathlessly, scratching behind his ear.

“A one time thing,” she answers, shaking her head to clear her mind and pulling her pants up. “Don’t follow me, wait five minutes. Go get some firewood or something,” she insists as she starts back towards the camp, still working on her pants as she walks.

She starts to think about how it might be a very, very bad idea for him to get more firewood, based on the fact that watching him handle the branches is what brought her here in the first place, but before she can think too deeply into it, he says, “as you wish.”

Her heart starts racing, and it’s not because of the heat or because she just had an earth shattering orgasm or because she’s turned on by his physical appearance. She could handle those things.

No, this is something else entirely. And rather than deal with it, she does what she does best and pushes those feelings deep, deep, deep into herself, never planning to address them again.

(She really should just stop making plans.)

~~~~

They spend endless days and nights in Neverland. Time is impossible to keep track of, and it starts to make sense why Neal had kept tic marks on the wall of his cave. The only way she’s able to keep track of how many days pass is by counting the amount of time’s she’s had sex with Killian Jones.

She can’t seem to stop. It started as a one time thing, an itch that needed scratching, but she finds now that she needs the release he gives her more than she needs to sleep. So, each night when they find a place to set up camp, they wait for her parents and Regina to fall asleep and sneak away to find a sturdy tree to fuck against.

On the ninth night, she notices Killian talking to her parents suspiciously and they inform her that Neal is alive, allegedly. As if the prospect of her ex dying and coming back to life in the span of two weeks wasn’t enough for her, he pulls her aside on their way to the Echo Caves and tells her that he was hesitant to tell her because he wanted to spare her feelings until they could confirm that Neal was alive. She scoffs. She has no feelings when it comes to Captain Hook.

They get to the Echo Caves and she learns that he feels the opposite. He’s starting to have feelings for her. Real ones. She stares at him because there’s nothing else she can do, until the ground starts to shake and the bridge starts to build itself.

She tells Neal the truth. He hurt her so much, but she knows that a part of her will always love him. It kills her to admit it to herself, never mind to him.

She fucks Hook angrily that night, with him lying on his back atop his stupid coat and her riding him mercilessly until she feels some semblance of control over herself. They’re far too close to the camp for how loud she is, but when they return, she’s certain everyone is still fast asleep.

The two grown men fight over a lighter. Neal gets grabbed by a shadow and she’s frozen. Hook gets grabbed by one and she screams and summons enough magic to light the fucking candle. She ignores the feelings of relief at him being alive when they meet later that night, convincing herself that the extra long kisses mean nothing.

They get Henry back. As much as she’s grateful to be off of that damn island, she almost grieves the loss of her new nightly routine with the stupid asshole.

He knows exactly how to make her tick, so when he finds her on the deck and says something about how he never doubted her for a second, she kisses him just to shut him up. She can’t possibly listen to his praises, filled with emotion and longing and until I met you, so she pushes them aside in favor of the pleasure she knows he’ll bring her.

The truth is, she can deal with everyone else saying things like that to her. When her parents say it, she can rationalize that they’re obligated to encourage her. When Henry says it, it’s because he believes in everyone, not just her. When Neal says it, she doesn’t even believe him at all.

But then Hook says it. She doesn’t want to believe him, but she does. His honest and raw words unhinge her because she has no reason not to believe them. He owes her nothing and has nothing to gain from attempting to woo her because he’s already had her in his bed- well, jungle- countless times. So she believes him. And she’s terrified.

So she continues to do what she does best. She ignores her feelings until she can’t anymore, and she deals with them by replacing them with the pleasure he brings her. A part of her tells her that she can’t continue doing this, but a bigger part of her tells her that it’s okay, because once they get back to Storybrooke, he’ll leave in favor of the sea or of finding another realm to pillage and plunder. Once he’s gone, she can forget any of this ever happened and move on.

It’s a perfect plan, except it doesn’t work. Because he stays.

#csnlny #captain swan #neverland new year #neverland #cs smut #neverland smut #cs ff

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hq-vbc · 5 years ago

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it’s you twenty-seven

it’s you masterlist / part 26 < part 28

want to be added to the taglist? sure!

a/n: okay, NSFW WARNING! if you follow me long enough, you should know that I don’t write smut, simply because I can’t. this is my first time writing it so please don’t be too harsh or expect something extremely detailed. it’s also pretty vanilla and not too explicit. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

yes, today is really important because you may have come up to a conclusion to help oikawa.

you know for sure that your boyfriend’s problem can be solved even if it is a lot of work, it is possible. considering the way you want to help him, you’ll be the one on the receiving end but you tell yourself it is okay, you hope and wish that oikawa will accept your idea.

recently, you noticed how much of a comfort you are to him and how happy he is with you. wishing you could repay him, you want to do the one thing you actually have in you power.

the moment oikawa entrusted you with what has been bothering him, your relationship progressed. for some reason, you feel more connected to oikawa and you are sure he feels the same.

after he told you the things he wants to do with you, you were able to picture a future with him. you want to make it possible and want to keep on this happiness you two are feeling.

chuckling to yourself, you wonder if that’s what love is all about?

just wanting a happy and peaceful future with your other half, not more or less.

but how can this happen if oikawa will never find the happiness he wants and how can you possibly be fine with him not being it?

with these thoughts you make yourself ready to go over to your boyfriend. he invited you to come over, texting you that he found a “super exciting duper cool thingy” he wants to show you.

you haven’t reached the bell yet but oikawa opens you the door immediately. he leans in to give you a quick kiss, not even saying “hello” and rushing back to his living room.

“look, look!!! it’s a record player I found! isn’t that awesome?”, he presents you in an optimistic way.

“you still have something like this?”, you chuckle while sitting down on the couch.

“it looks extremely old yet has something beautiful to it!”, oikawa comments.

it is just a short moment you share with your boyfriend right now but for some reason carefree situations like these make you want to share even more moments with him.

deep in your thoughts, oikawa puts on a song without you noticing. your boyfriend walks over to you and offers you his hand, which you accept. oikawa pulls you close to him and the two of you start to dance peacefully to the music in the background. you lean against his chest while he rests his chin on your head. dancing with your beloved one at this moment, you wouldn’t exchange this for anything in the world. you feel at ease and wish the music would never stop playing. getting lost in your boyfriend’s arms, the world seems so small compared to what you feel and you forget the real reason why you are here and what you wanted to talk about.

while the two of you dance, you recall your first meeting with oikawa in the rain and how he offered you an umbrella. all the memories you share with him flash through your mind and you remember your first date. not the party one but the one in which the sun set so beautifully when you two shared your first kiss as a couple. the problems you two experienced and the courage it took for the both of you to share with the other make you realize what a strong couple you two actually are. you appreciate that oikawa is your first in everything and notice how lucky you are that it is him.

your boyfriend is close to you and the moment the music stops playing, he rests his forehead on yours. you can feel him breathing on your skin as he leans in to kiss you softly. oikawa smiles and everything around you seems like a dream.

a dream you never wish to wake up from.

oikawa leans in again, this time cupping your face. the second kiss is different from the first one. it is more deeply, you feel him even more. you have to take a break so the two of can catch your breathes again. oikawa places another soft kiss on your forehead, mumbling: “I love you.”

feeling safe by his side, knowing he loves you and the trust you two built, nothing in this world could compare to the happiness you feel thanks to oikawa.

although it is rare for you to take the lead, this time you are confident, leaning in and kissing your boyfriend all over again. you two continue until you reach the bed, oikawa’s body over yours. his body shifts comfortably on top of you and while one hand grabs your waist gently, the other is holding your hand tightly. in between the two of you let out soft giggles, your boyfriend mumbling how beautiful you are in his eyes here and there. you tangle your hands around his neck and pull him even closer. you realize how close yet so far oikawa is and notice the rough fabric that is sticking to your warm bodies.

“I want you even closer to me”, you whisper, your cheeks turning pink.

at this moment oikawa stops, leaving you in embarrassment.

“are you sure you want me even closer? are you comfortable enough with me?”, your boyfriend asks, wanting your approval first before going on.

you only dare to whisper an inaudible: “yes.”

oikawa looks at you again but this time his eyes look at you as if you are something precious, beautiful and perfect. he takes your face gently in his hand, caressing you once again. each kiss feels like praise, slowly drawing his tongue across your skin until he has you writhing. never wanting something more than him at this moment, you notice how you have never put much thought to this. oikawa’s lips seek your skin again, not ignoring one part of your body as he kisses you gently.

“are you good?”, he murmurs, his voice low.

you nod as he leans in to give you a kiss, seeking your cheek, your ear and your throat while his fingers trail downward, taking off your shirt, exposing your skin. he kisses along the swells of your breasts as you whimper you run your fingers through his hair. oikawa lifts his head for only a moment, his smirk making your stomach jump as he slips your breastband down. you watch him as he studies your bare chest, your cheeks burning. each movement stirs an ache between your legs while your heart pounds and your breaths feel tight.

“I’ve never done this before”, is the only thing you are able to blurt out as oikawa leaves gentle kisses on your stomach.

he stops for a moment, hovering his body over yours again and kissing your forehead.

“and you really want me to be your first?”, he whispers in your ears, reflecting a bit of insecurity.

“if not you, who else? no one could compare to you, oikawa”, you smile.

he smiles softly while unfasting your belt. you slip your hands under his shirt, flattening your palms against his chest before pulling the fabric up over his head.

for some reason, it feels natural to have him resting between your legs as his hands wander. you don’t feel uncomfortable at all.

oikawa teases you, nails lightly raking over the swell of your breasts as you two kiss once again. his fingertips ghost over your throat, your nipples, your sides, your hips and every place oikawa touches make your skin come alive, your breaths heavy with moans.

his hand drifts back down to your panties, fingertips slipping slowly in. you gasp, crying out as you feel the sudden shock of him brushing against your clit. he seems to savor the sound, pulling back just far enough to watch your face as he draws slow circles between your folds. the movement is so small, so slow yet it sends shivers down your spine.

“is that okay?”

you nod eagerly, no words needed.

it is enough of an answer for oikawa and a second finger enters you and you whimper, his name on your lips again as you grip his shoulder.

“keep going,” you gasp, a small laugh on his lips.

he shifts your panties, giving his hand more freedom to move as his fingers glide against you. your boyfriend moves in long, slow strokes, teasing your clit before trailing back down, sinking into you again only to withdraw and repeat the motion. each thrust sends soft waves of pleasure through you body. you cry out, muffling against his mouth as your nails press into his skin, your arms shaking. you knew it wouldn’t take that long anymore, your orgasm close: “oikawa, I-”

“yeah, I know.”

oikawa removes his fingers as his pants come off. he is only in his underwear now and you could see the outlines of his hard member. oikawa reaches for the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a condom - you haven’t even realised those were in there. struggling to keep your eyes above his waist, you blush hard as you try to avoid watching him while he tears open the condom, kicking off his shorts and quickly pulling it over his length. he comes forward and you pull him close, embracing him completely in your arms slipping around his shoulders.

you feel him pressed against your entrance but he doesn’t push forward yet. you put your hand between you two, eliciting a soft curse from him as your hand gently strokes his shaft, pressing his head between your folds. he looks down at you and you smile, nodding once again. that is all the confirmation he needs to continue. bracing himself against your hips, he pushes in slowly. oikawa looks immediately at you, worry in his eyes because he wants to make sure you are not in pain. you are touched at how careful and caring your boyfriend is, wanting to make sure you feel comfortable, even now. his posture stiffens, his brow lowering.

“are you alright?”

“I am,” you answer softly.

actually, you aren’t even in pain.

then oikawa starts to thrust slowly and he is gentle at first before gradually picking up speed, keeping an eye to make sure you are feeling comfortable. there are no words between you two, the moans of you filling the room. his skin feels feverish against your own, sweat dewing on your bodies as he kisses you, his chest brushing yours with each press. you whimper, missing the feel of his lips as he pulls back, the sensation quickly replaced as his thumb circles your clit once more. a cry escapes your mouth, making oikawa smile. you two share a look of pleasure as his thrusts grow harder, deeper and more desperate. you try to keep your voice low but give up while calling out to him. you could feel yourself nearing, a steady tremor building inside you, the world crumbling around you, leaving you with nothing but oikawa’s body to anchor you to reality.

you come, muscles tightening, holding him close as your body quivers, losing all sense of control. oikawa calls out your name in a groan as he drives himself into you. you feel the pulse of his release, noticing him twitch deep within you as he comes with a low sound that rumbles in his chest. his forehead lowers to your own. your eyes closed, listening to each other’s breaths, not daring to move.

you tilt your chin, blindly seeking his lips. it is a slow, leisurely kiss. your hand goes to his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheeks as the corner of his mouth lifts.

“I love you,” you whisper.

oikawa’s expression warms, his smile broadening, a look of genuine happiness. he repeats the words as if he is testing them on his lips, learning the feel of them once again before his mouth meets yours once more. pulling away he stares down at you, brushing loose hair from your face.

“I love you, too.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu social media #haikyuu sm au #haikyuu au #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa scenario #oikawa imagine

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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The Case of the Heart in Armor {Part Six}

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

Wow, I’ve finally reached the end of this tale (which was really only intended to be a one shot at the beginning). I’m sorry that it has taken so long, but I absolutely appreciate all who have read and commented on this one, and especially @courtorderedcake who provided the artwork above which inspired it to begin with. Thanks so much for sticking with me, and I hope you will all enjoy the conclusion!

From the beginning: Here or on AO3

Part Six

Blinking her way back into awareness was a difficult process when Emma Nolan sucked in a harsh, strangled breath as her eyes blearily opened, still clouded and unable to focus properly. A dark shadow leaned over her, someone in vaguely human shape; not one that she could recognize as male or female, but rather some sort of unknown threat. Instinct from years of self-protection kicked in and she tried to flinch away from an arm raised with a weapon. Yet, even as she moved to stretch a hand out in defense against the blow, to her horror, Emma realized in a flash of descending panic that her movements were brought up short by her being bound tightly to the surface on which she lay.

Gulping in a frightened rasp of air, she began to fight and wriggle more violently, to little avail; her breath coming with continued harshness as her heartbeat raced in anxiety. It felt as if the dark chamber she was in was closing around her, dwindling to only herself and the specter above her.

A low, sultry chuckle passed the stranger’s lips, her assailant leaning in close enough that Emma could at last make out a gleaming smile and painted lips, the abductor now obviously female. The voice which followed was silken, slithering over her skin like a menacing serpent. “Well, hello, Miss Nolan. Welcome to my workshop. This will be all the more entertaining with you awake to participate.” The deeply colored corners of that sinister expression turned up with evil satisfaction. One gloved hand stroked along the side of Emma’s trembling face, despite her determined attempt to remain still and stoic, not showing the true extent of her fear.

“So sweet,” the unknown woman cooed with false sympathy. “So needlessly lost. I do apologize, dear, but you were necessary to draw him out.”

It was then that Emma registered the sharp gleam of the blade in the woman’s other hand; the one which had been raised above her head when she first woke, but which had escaped her focus as she blearily tried to understand all that was happening. Her brow furrowed, unable to process what this woman could want, or how taking Emma would lure anyone else, even as her thoughts raced for a way to avert a painful and life-threatening blow.

Unfazed by Emma’s quickly whirling thoughts and inner turmoil, her tormentor shocked her once again. Instead of plunging the weapon into her chest as Emma had expected, the woman instead drew the knife sickeningly alone Emma’s collarbone and down her arm. A thin line of blood welled up in the wake of the cut, and Emma hissed through her teeth at the sting, in spite of her best efforts. She still pulled against her restraints, but it did little good; only seeming to bring her captor more enjoyment of the deadly game. The only comfort Emma could find within her predicament was that this witch seemed in no hurry to finish her off. The cuts the woman was making obviously hurt, but they wouldn’t kill her any time soon.

Her focus was stolen moments later as the blade sliced into the soft skin of her inner elbow, twisting cruelly and forcing a whimper from Emma’s tightly clenched mouth. She jerked her head away, refusing to watch the sadistic glee lighting those dark eyes looming over her, but a sharply manicured hand gripped her chin and turned her back to face her doom. “Ah, ah, ah, now pet, you can’t stop watching. We’ve almost reached the main event.”

As if on some unheard cue, the heavy wooden door across the basement room began to rattle and groan as something rammed against it; once, twice, a third time, with increasingly desperate force. “Hmm,” the shadowy figure mused. “Right on time.”

Suddenly, with an unearthly shattering and rending, the door burst from its hinges, wood splintering as it was caved in by three avenging forms charging through into her prison. With a howl of such raw emotion she wouldn’t have imagined him capable, Killian ‘Holmes’ Jones hurtled across the small, dank space in a flash, clearly intending to tackle to the ground the murderess holding her prisoner.

His charge was brought up short by the dagger suddenly poised directly over her heart and a coolly staying hand. “Not another step, Holmes,” that cultured voice ordered as calmly as if she were suggesting he sit down for tea. “Miss Nolan has served her purpose beautifully, but I can still cut out her heart if need be.”

Killian Jones… Emma’s breath stuttered again without her command at the anguished look on the gentleman detective’s face. He nodded his head grudgingly, wordlessly agreeing to this fiend’s demands and freezing in place. For the life of her, Emma couldn’t fathom why Jones cared so much, but he looked as if it might undo him should this woman drive her blade home. Beyond him, she could see David and Graham, both looking worried for her and at a loss; her brother practically vibrating with thwarted rage at the cuts which had already been made against her skin.

“You’ve made your point, Regine,” Killian spoke, his voice icily controlled, as he held the woman’s gaze. “What is it that you want? You have our attention; there’s no need to punish innocents further.” He gestured to Emma as he said so, not looking her way, struggling to seem as if she were just anyone to him, but his words were still a hissed threat. The implication was clear: Millsen would not get what she wanted if she killed the young woman under her raised knife.

Pursing her garish red lips in a sort of pout, Regine Millsen abandoned her hovering stance over Emma’s prone body. Seeming assured of the fact that Emma could not escape, Regine instead began to stalk toward ‘Holmes’ Jones with a sinister purr. “Really, you could be a bit less predictable,” she chided, as if playfully admonishing a willful lover. “You’re making this too easy with your honor and good form and such nonsense.”

As she spoke, seemingly focussing all her attention on Killian, Graham had stealthily attempted to creep around behind her toward Emma. Suddenly, Regine’s free hand shot out toward Watson, and he was thrown back against the stone wall with a single shout of surprise, a sickening thud of impact, and then silence. Shaking her head ‘no’, she arched a sculpted brow at David after, as if to question whether he wished to be next.

Eyes zeroing back on Killian’s in a flash, she questioned,“Now, Holmes, where were we? Oh yes… Are you ready to make a deal? If you’re so concerned for the innocent, I will allow you to stand in her place. It seems only fair.” She shrugged lightly as if it weren’t of much consequence, the gesture fooling no one, as he had been her true quarry all along. “You failed to care so much for the death of my sweet, blameless Daniel. Not such good form after all, hmm? Still your unconcern came back to me as the final piece needed to solve my puzzle after all this time.”

Though certain his horrifying theory had been correct, Killian still had nothing with which to fight against her, not while Emma Nolan’s life hung in the balance. Unable to do otherwise, Killian paused any movement, holding fast just where he was with hands raised in patient supplication. With a nod of acquiescence, he gritted begrudgingly, “Aye, you harpy, you know I’ve no other choice. What is it you wish me to do?”

Holding his breath, he waited for this dangerously unbalanced foe to move her blade away from Emma before he did anything else that might unsettle her. Managing to subvert his expectations once again, at his compliance, the sharp, edgy rage and unpredictability that had painted Regine Millsen’s face eased and she straightened regally, moving toward the detective with what would have almost seemed a seductive sway and a simpering expression of satisfaction on her face. “I knew you would see sense, Mr. Jones. You are billed after all as a man of reason.”

Killian did not respond to her attempt at flirtatious distraction; holding himself rigidly still, and only with strict self-control, managing not to shiver away from her questing fingers as they traced uninvited along his jawline, down to his collar and grazed along his upper chest. For the first time ever, he found himself cursing his predilection to leave his top few shirt buttons undone; he wanted no part of this vicious creature’s touch lingering upon his skin. Clenching his teeth, he tried to focus on the fact that under different circumstances he could have heard Emma laughing at him in such a predicament, shaking her head with exasperated mirth and telling him it served him right if he left half his chest on display; some poor woman would have to touch it.

The thought of Miss Nolan in happier times immediately sent his gaze searching for hers over their foe’s shoulder. Even pinned down as she was, he could see that since her attacker’s focus was no longer solely on the younger woman, Emma was already wriggling and working at loosening her bindings and freeing herself from Regine’s knots of rope. The pickpocketing skills she’d honed for a lifetime - her natural deft touch, slim build, and sleight of hand - might just save them now if they were lucky and he could buy her a bit more time not under Millsen’s rapt observation.

Without further hesitation, Killian resolved to do just that, gritting his teeth against the snide comeback burning on his tongue and forcing himself not to enrage the woman, he continued to hold himself still rather than pulling back or pushing her away. Despite the disturbing feeling of Regine Millsen’s sharply pointed nails and chilled hand slipping inside his shirt front and mapping the planes of his chest in a possessive way that caused bile to rise in his throat - he would much prefer the intrusion than for her to go back to gouging and slicing at Emma Nolan’s pale and flawless skin.

It almost seemed as though Emma could read what was going on in his mind. Even if he would once have labeled her as little more than a nuisance and thorn in his side - pretty, but a dishonest thief and an annoying distraction - he was quickly coming to realize that few people had ever as quickly seemed to understand his meaning, his thought process, and incisively glimpse right behind the protective veneer of cool detachment he wore like a mask, as this wisp of a woman had done at first meeting. It was the pocketwatch she had nicked, but those small, graceful hands reached inside him much further than that. If he were as given to the romantic bent as he had once foolishly been, he might have claimed she had pulled his heart out clutched in her sticky fingers as well.

A particularly unfortunate exaggeration to make in their current situation, he chided himself, snapping back to reality as the murderess before him finally removed her unbidden touch from his chest, and stood back to face him squarely, gauging whether or not she had his full attention. He needed to stop dwelling on more pleasant moments and focus on his opponent. Yes, he could physically overpower her in a fair fight, but he didn’t know what this woman’s next move might be, nor what sort of occult power she might throw at them next. He couldn’t risk trying to simply cuff her or disarm her until he was sure of the advantage - the opportune moment. If he failed, any of his compatriots, and most likely Emma, might well pay the price with him. Thankfully, he could see that Emma was making progress - one arm was moving much more freely than it had been, and with a couple more minutes unseen, she would hopefully free herself. He was banking on it, as he might or might not be able to provide much more than distraction if those few minutes went as he was beginning to suspect they would.

“Well, now we come to it at last,” he spoke up, forcing his voice to a low, smooth rumble and purposefully returning Regine Millsen’s blatant stare with his own, making certain he had her undivided attention while he noted a flash of gold over her head. Emma had her hands free and was working on the knot at her stomach. It might hurt, but if he could prolong this just a little longer… If the others were free to run when need be and he could still get Millsen in his grasp…

All he said was, “You have me right where you wanted, don’t you?”

“That depends,” Regine purred back with a sinister quirk of her brow. “You know why you are here, and what I desire? And you mean to cooperate?”

Holmes gave her a condescending smile. “Possibly,” he shrugged, “if you answer a question for me first. If you admit what all of this has been about. Why hearts? What can you possibly hope to accomplish with a person’s heart cut from the body?”

“Why resurrection, of course,” she replied, as if it were as sensible and normal as any sane rationale. “You must have heard the theory… the possibility of reanimation… a man as well-read and learned as you. I have come so close to success so many times, and now the missing piece is right within my grasp; the single reason why each time before has failed. I needed the exact heart strong enough to withstand the procedure with enough armour to shield it until it can bring my Daniel back to me.”

Killian tilted his head, knowing he needed to keep her talking just a few moments longer. He could see Emma frantically working at the knots holding her ankles now; heard Graham stirring back into wakefulness over against the wall where he had landed and knew David could help him. Only a few more seconds, just a couple steps closer and he could reach her, hopefully grab Millsen and stop her, before she could retaliate. He attempted a look of curiosity as he asked, “And it’s mine? What made my heart so special? How did you even know?”

Shaking her head and clicking her tongue with a sort of feigned disappointment, Regine gave him a questioning eye. “Really now, Holmes. I’d think you might have that answer worked out for yourself. After I had made attempts with, shall we call them less-than-suitable donors, it became clear that only the most resilient of hearts, organs which could withstand pain, undergo trauma, and carry on beating, could possibly handle what the feat of reanimation requires. Once that was clear, I remembered our previous meetings long ago - the passion and depth in your eyes, though clearly guarded and walled for strength against easy temptations - even against a match as fine as I was then. At the time, true, I was offended. But now, I can only be grateful. I did not forget such reserve and discipline, and it was easy to learn it had only carried on and grown in your daily life and distinctions over the intervening years.”

Killian nodded sagely, as if truly taking her reasoning under consideration. Then he queried, “And I suppose I should simply submit to being the catalyst for such a remarkable event, regardless of the personal cost?” He couldn’t help a small amount of his contempt for her plan at last leaking through his voice. It was preposterous! The sheer arrogance of her presumption! How could she possibly imagine it would go? Would anyone offer oneself up gladly? But then he thought of the scene he had burst into moments before. If it stayed her hand from shedding Emma’s lifesblood - or that of anyone he cared for - then he admitted that he would submit to the woman’s most insane demand.

Luckily, he could see that Emma was even at that moment finally free of her restraints and climbing down from the worktop upon which she had been laid.. The pretty blonde - whom he might as well admit had captured his attention as no other in years - leaned against the table’s edge, looking a bit woozy and off-balance for a moment, either from loss of blood or whatever Millsen had used to knock her out, but then she straightened, eyes meeting his quickly and hardening with determination.

Now was the moment. Emma was on her feet and free to run; he simply had to hope, trusting the capabilities of the two men behind him to have each other’s backs. He only needed a moment to arrest the strike he was certain Regine Millsen would make with the blade still in her hand, to catch her while she was focused on removing his heart, rather than her seemingly magical abilities to fend off capture. Meeting the occultist’s hungry gaze, he finally blew out a short breath through his nose, hoping he looked sufficiently resigned, as if bowing to his choice and the sacrifice he faced. “Very well,” he acknowledged. “You obviously know I cannot save my own skin and allow you to stalk others if it is within my power to stop it. If I have your word that Miss Nolan goes free, that this is the end of your murderous reign, then do what you will.”

She smiled, dipping her chin slightly to affirm her agreement. “Of course, Holmes. You have my word. Once I gain this heart of yours, my work will finally be complete. I’ll have no need of any more.”

Muscles tensed, every fiber of his being at the ready to lunge forward and grab her as she prepared to strike the final blow to his chest, Killian’s focus narrowed. There was no margin for distraction or error. Regine Millsen’s arm raised in triumph; her deluded assumption that he was giving himself over to simply stand as his heart was carved from his body lending a crazed fervor to her actions, disregarding caution in her avarice and the nearness of her goal.

The villainess swept forward, knife’s edge bared, and Killian crouched as she was in motion, raising his hands to capture her wrists once it was too late for her to pull back. Then, suddenly, a scream of rage and fear rang throughout the chamber and bounced off the stone walls. Regine’s form collided with his own, but with far more weight and force than her slight body should have carried. Both of them were borne to the ground; Killian’s head striking against the cement floor hard enough for his vision to swim and the solid mass of more than just the witch he had expected pressing down upon him.

He groaned involuntarily, trying to keep his vision clear to subdue their murderess while she was also stunned. Unfortunately, the blow to his skull was sharply compounded by a ragged, burning fire that flared along his side. Agony shot through him, realizing that the knife must have been caught between himself and Millsen in their fall, and though not dissecting his heart, it was still carving a painful line across his torso.

Regine had not moved, but suddenly Emma peeked over her abductor’s motionless shoulder. A heavy metal object he couldn’t identify was clutched in her trembling hand, and Killian was just aware enough to understand that she must have used it to render Millsen insensate as she had plowed into the other woman - saving herself and him too. Well, maybe, if only he weren’t so disoriented… “Emma?” he questioned, tongue seeming thick and too unwieldy to speak properly.

“Jones?” she replied, eyes shining widely with fear and concern. “Are you…?” Those intriguing eyes widened as she took him in, her chin wobbling only a second before she turned to cry out her brother’s name urgently.

Holmes suddenly felt highly unconcerned with everything but her face so near his own. “You - you saved me,” he managed to state awkwardly as he attempted to touch her face. His fingers couldn’t reach their goal, and his hand fell back to the floor, stained with blood.

“Just take it easy, Jones,” she murmured, threading her small delicate fingers with his own, despite the sticky residue. He grinned at her with a giddiness that was almost loopy, prompting a watery smile in response that wheeled alarmingly in his vision. “What can I say?” she added. “It seemed like the honorable thing to do.”

But her voice and all the other noise and movement in that strange, cavernous cellar was already fading away, growing softer and smaller, as if gaining distance from him - until there was nothing there at all.

~~~~~~~~~***

Two Weeks Later…

Upon leaving his London flat, Killian ‘Holmes’ Jones drew in a grateful breath of the crisp morning air, more than past his fill of Graham Watson and his physician’s orders to stay abed until the knife wound in his side was fully healed and his blood loss recouped - to say nothing of the fussing and smothering he had endured from Liam in the past fortnight. He would not have expected it from the man, but his elder brother was as overprotective as a crochety nursemaid since his injury, barely leaving Killian alone long enough to feed and dress himself, and rushing headlong back into his chambers if Killian so much as let a hiss of discomfort escape.

He could admit to himself, since he had finally been allowed to leave the house for a short walk in the fresh air, alone and under his own steam, as he had been promising he was capable for some days, that the wound where Regine Millsen’s blade had sunk into his flesh was indeed still tender. He held himself gingerly as he reached the bottom step and moved out onto the busy sidewalk. All the same, he was not about to let on to another soul. In fact, he would not in the least be surprised if he were to turn round and look up to find his sibling and Watson peeking out through the window curtains and keeping an eye on him. He would not even put it past them, after the well-intentioned but ridiculous mollycoddling he had endured, to find Nolan waiting for him at the corner, a police escort to see him home safely at the end of his stroll.

Still, as he found his natural gait and started down the familiar street, Killian knew despite his irritation, that they were only so anxious because they cared. He had looked to be in dire straits there for a moment on the floor of that vault. His head had struck the floor with enough force to bring on concussion, and once he had passed out, he had been utterly unresponsive to all their pleas. Added to the fact that the blood spilling from his side had been hard to stem at first, and he knew he had given them all quite a turn. And Emma, well…

Miss Nolan had been the only one who had not visited him in the hospital, or at his home afterward as he convalesced. She had sent a handsome bottle of rum with a note expressing her sincerest thanks for his chivalrous rescue, along with the cheeky reassurance that she had indeed paid for the fine liquor. He could just see the sparkle in those bright green eyes, and her challenging smirk as he imagined her teasing him with the words aloud. All the same, he wished to see her alive and well, and no worse for wear, with his own two eyes, regardless of his belief in her brother’s assurances.

Upon pressing David Nolan further, the inspector had admitted reluctantly, with eyes downcast, that Emma blamed herself. Apparently she thought that he wouldn’t have been so badly hurt if she hadn’t tried to help take Millsen down. The very idea made a fissure split through the ancient and already weakening protection around his heart. It had been nothing of the sort. His own plan had been last ditch and slipshod at best, and that she would have thrown herself back into harm’s way to come to his aid, after what she had already been through, meant more to him than he could adequately express or comprehend. He would never begin to blame her for the effort.

If he could just tell her that!

Therefore, as he turned the corner and walked on toward the nearby park, Killian felt a smile break across his weary face at the sight up ahead. The brightly colored pushcart full of carnations, asters, lilies, and all variety of cheerful blooms was wonderfully familiar, and as he tried to pick up his pace, he could only hope that its lovely proprietress would be there as well.

When Emma Nolan’s bright golden hair caught the sunlight as he drew near, Killian knew his pleased grin must have stretched wide enough to make him look quite the fool - and he could not find it within himself to care. Her back was still turned to him while she counted out change for a customer, wishing them enjoyment of the daisy bouquet they had purchased. Her trim figure stood straight-backed and proud, as strong and confident, alert and ready for action, as she had proven herself to be time and again. The swelling in his chest as he neared her side and reached out to gain her attention told Killian he had missed her more than he would have ever thought possible.

Once her customer had moved on, Killian tapped Emma’s shoulder lightly, holding his breath in nervous anticipation as she turned his way. Her beguiling gaze met his the moment she did so, green pupils widening in surprise before quickly falling to her hands as they fluttered nervously over the blossoms before her, anything to avoid his concerned and all-too-knowing stare.

“Emma,” he breathed, his voice hushed and raspy, overcome at seeing her there before him again. Her obvious anxiety and the pained guilt in her bearing tore at him. Even if she did not return the deeper feelings he could no longer deny, Holmes was glad he had come looking for her. He could not bear for Emma to go on blaming herself.

“Please, Lass, look at me,” he begged softly, reaching shaky fingers out to touch her chin and tilt her face back up to meet his own.

Shaking her head abruptly, the jade of her irises welled with unshed tears and she tried to pull away, but Killian persisted, needing her to see his sincerity. “You’re so bloody brilliant, Emma Nolan,” he hastened on before she could stop him. “Truly. Do you not even realize how rare the person who could have kept their wits about them in that dungeon? You were drugged, injured, and still you managed to free yourself and think of another as well. Yet, you haven’t given me a chance to thank you.”

He tried to take her hand, to press it in gratitude, but Emma resisted, spluttering in disbelief. “Thank me?! Are you mad, Jones? It’s because of me that - ”

“No, not another word of blame, Darling,” he interjected firmly, intent on seeing her let that burden go. “The way I see it, you stopped our foe and saved my life. I’ll not hear any talk against your actions.”

Deflating, Emma shook her head in fond exasperation, knowing it wasn’t worth arguing further. His mind was set, and she honestly felt nothing but relief. No longer than she had known him, and as mad as he had made her when they met, the image of him splayed across that cold stone, his blood pooling beneath him, had refused to leave her mind, haunting her night and day, and repeating cruelly that if they had lost him, it would have been her fault. Biting her lower lip sharply to keep uncharacteristically emotional tears from pouring out, she pulled Jones to her finally, embracing him tightly with all the emotion she had tried to hide.

When she stood back to right herself, Emma offered the infuriatingly handsome detective a hopeful smile. “Thank you, Jones… Killian,” she whispered. “I can’t say how glad I am that you’re alright.”

He flushed a telling pink under the scruff on his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears at her words. Dipping his head at her show of affection, Killian prepared to leave her to her work. With a wink, he spoke once more before departing, a hint of his previous charm in the words. “Until we meet again, Miss Nolan,” he bowed and turned to go.

“Soon, I hope,” she answered knowingly. A grin was already crossing her face as he stopped abruptly, hand freezing while he felt curiously in his waistcoat pocket. Pulling an object from it, Jones turned to her with his pilfered watch in hand.

“How did you - ?” he began to ask.

Emma only gave him a mischievous wink of her own, a woman needed a few secrets after all. Shrugging playfully, she offered in a tease, “I think you more than earned it.”

Tagging: @csrolereversal @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @laschatzi @resident-of-storybrooke @thisonesatellite @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @lfh1226-linda @stahlop @drowned-dreamer @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @snidgetsafan @shireness-says @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling

#csrolereversal ff #cs Victorian au #cs au mc #the case of the heart in armor #part six #the conclusion at last

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xiumin-on-this-shit · 5 years ago

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I Am An Alpha Ch 27: Time To Relax

Hi lovelies I’m sorry this took me so long! I really tired to write the smut but it didn’t sound right so I just did the build and you can insinuate where it goes😉

“How did your talk go?” Kyungsoo wonders as he wraps me up in a blanket on the couch. He cuddles in close on my left side while an angry looking Jongin appears on my right. “Did you guys figure out how your brothers are alive?”

“We assume that they somehow snuck passed the soldiers patrolling the boarder of my village, nothing other than that. They were just lucky. Have they reached out at all?”

Suho shakes his head, “Nothing so far but it hasn’t been very long. Did you think about how you wanted to handle this?”

“Eh kind of,” I mumble awkwardly, “we definitely figured out a few different things we could do. Did you guys put any thought into it?”

“About the same, but these are your brothers Insoo, whatever we decide to do is completely up to you.”

“Are you serious?”

They all nod, “Of course, we wouldn’t make any decisions about something like this without you.”

Kyungsoo brushes a curl out of my face, “What were some of the options you guys came up with?”

“There is the obvious one of figuring everything out and maybe fixing all of the problems we had when we were younger so we can focus on our futures. Or we could just pretend that we never saw them and continue on with our lives.”

“Those are our options?” Jongin grimaces, earning a love tap from Suho.

My brows raise at that, “What did you guys think up?” Jongin’s mouth opens to respond but snaps it closed when Kris glowers at him. I look from one to the other then to my other mates, noticing the tension in the room. “What am I missing?”

No says anything.

I glare at their head alpha, “Hyung?”

He clicks his tongue, “Jongin why did you have to go and say something?”

“Did you tell him not to tell me something? What the hell? Jongin,” I look to the younger again and take his hands in mine, “What were you going to tell me?”

“Soo, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.”

“You are going to be in trouble if you aren’t honest with me!”

Jongin grimaces, he gives Suho a pleading look but the older shakes his head, “You dug yourself this hole.”

“Our back up plan if they caused to much trouble was to just… kill them?”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. I start wheezing, clutching my chest to catch my breath, unable control myself at the moment. “And you guys were worried I would be what? Offended?”

“I mean yea, they’re your brothers.”

“They are strangers,” I correct. ”My pack and I already came to the same conclusion, you guys aren’t the only ones who are quick to jump to the easiest solution.”

“Thank god,” The tan man relaxes with a shy smile.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” I praise, giving him a tight hug. “Now for the rest of you, do we need to have a talk about honesty?”

Baekhyun is quick to speak up, “We just didn’t want to upset you. Sorry Soo, you aren’t really mad, are you?”

“I’m more insulted than anything that you guys didn’t think I could handle this. I thought we were passed this whole walking on eggshells thing.”

“We are!” They shout together.

“Than prove it! You all need to be honest with me all the time, especially in this situation. I’m not fragile, I’m trusting you guys to not hide things from me just because you are scared of how I’ll handle it, okay?”

All twelve nod eagerly, Chanyeol and Baekhyun rush forward to me gushing apologies.

I place a single finger on both of their lips, hushing them, “I forgive you all so you can stop with the apologies. Let’s focus on these assholes we are going to have to deal with now.”

“We will deal with them when they call,” Kris insists.

“But-“

“No buts. You have had a very long and eventful day, you need some rest before we take this on, we all do.”

I deflate, knowing there is no real point in arguing. I’m sure their at they need a moment of peace more than me. As a deep breath leaves me my body suddenly sinks into the couch with exhaustion. ”I guess I could go for a nap.”

“You can take a nap with me little wolf,” Minseok answers immediately. He is on his feet, hand extended towards me.

As expected Tao jumps up, “Why do you get to take her?”

To my surprise the sweet man turns a terrifying glare on to his younger sibling, “I understand your rut is still lingering but today has been stressful. Let’s not add a fight to this, understand?”

No one questions the soft but dominant man. He looks back to me, his eyes become gentle once again, “Up, up, little wolf.”

I find myself obeying without a thought, allowing him to pull me into his arms, scooping me off my feet as if I weigh nothing.

“Wait a second.”

Minseok pauses as we reach the base of the stairs, he looks over his shoulder at Kyungsoo, “What?”

“She hasn’t eaten yet.”

The oldest thinks for a minute before nodding, “Bring it to my room. Just come in whenever it’s ready.” With that done he continues on his way up the stairs to his room. The door opens, revealing what I’ve grown to expect from these men, modern furniture with muted color palette. His color of choice is shades of gray. “Do you need to use the restroom before you lay down?”

I shake my head, feeling weirdly shy for the first time in awhile. He sets me down on the edge of the bed, kneeling down on in front of my to untie my new boots and set them aside.

“How are you feeling?” Minseok asks on the is done, but he stays there on his knees in front of me.

“Tired,” I shrug unsure of myself, “I guess.”

“I can see your eyes getting a little droopy but the rest of you is still tense, can I help you relax?”

“How?”

Long gentle fingers glide across the bottom of my foot, his nails are barely there but the sensation sends a tingling feeling right up my leg forcing my toes to curl.

“How did that feel?”

“Good,” my mind flashes back to the first time we met and he did something similar, “You must have magic hands.”

“I’m happy you think so. How about we take off some of these layers so I can help you relax a bit more?”

I nod, allowing him to remove my sweat pants and sweatshirt, leaving me in just a t shirt and spandex shorts. With that set aside he gets back to work on trying his best to relax me. I watch as his fingers go up my cage and back down again, his eyes flick up from his handy work to my eyes then back again to make sure I’m actually enjoying it. And I am, more than I probably should if I’m being honest. I’ve never had a proper massage, even though I’ve been in desperate need of one most of my life. Part of me is thankful that I never had one, it would be far too embarrassing to react like this to someone that is not my mate. My body is tingling. I resist the urge to just lay back and enjoy, seeing him kneeling in front of me does more than it should to my omega.

“Talk to me Insoo,” He quietly requets, “I haven’t been as blessed as my brothers to hear your voice as them.” His hands reach my thighs, each hand working it’s magic.

Instead of an answer, all I can let out is a whimper. It feels so good. His thumbs move in small circles, digging into the muscles and slowly opening my legs with each movement of his hands.

“That sound was very pretty but wasn’t what I was expecting. How about you tell me about my brothers?”

His brothers? At a moment like this where I probably can’t think of my own god damn name. He’s just being mean!

“How about Kyungsoo? What do you think about him?”

My eyelids flutter close once his fingers reaches only inches away from my most sensitive area. Kyungsoo. “He smells so good,” I mumble out. Images of him pop into my head, his smile drawing all of my attention. I find myself grinning at just the though lot of those full lips, my body has a bad habit of responding on its own when it comes to him. My thighs rub together, Minseok raises his brws at that.

“Does just his smell so that to you?” The man teases as he gently guides my legs back open. My eyes snap back open when his lips connect with my inner thigh. He freezes there, lips flush with my skin where my shorts end. “Or were you thinking of something else?”

I can’t help but admit it, “His mouth…”

My face is on fire, I resist the urge to cover my face when a rush of pheromones leave me. He smells it immediately, his pupils grow massive, his grip on me tightens, keeping me from shutting my legs again. “Did you hear that brother?”

I snap my eyes toward the now open door, Kyungsoo is there with a tray of food in his hands, fangs poking into his lips.

Minseok grins, “How about you put the tray down and help our little wolf relax? As much as she likes my hands, I think she would prefer your mouth, right Insoo?”

“Hyung don’t force her to do anything she isn’t comfortable with!” The younger snaps.

“I would never,” Minseok snarls in return. He looks back up at me, all playfulness gone, “You can tell me to stop little wolf whenever you want, you know that right? Are you uncomfortable at all? Do you want me to stop?”

My head shakes no before I can ever think. My insides are aching for attention now, even I can smell my own arousal.

“Satisfied? Now are you going to come over here or are you going to be a stick in the mud?”

I expect him to leave from the stern look on his face but instead he slams the tray down on the dresser to the left of the door and stomps over. “Move.”

“Someone is feeling bossy. Let’s make sure everyone is comfortable.” The older man takes charge of the situation, joining me on the bed and pulling me towards the head board. Leaning against the head board he drags me in between his legs, his chest flushed to my back. One arms circles around my waist while the other separates my knees that I had pulled to my chest. “We have to make room for Kyungsoo,” He tells me as he guides my legs wide open and urges my knees to lower. “There we go love,” His words flutter across my neck making me shiver. “Comfy?”

All I can do is mumble out a quiet yes.

“Should we let Kyungsoo join us?”

I nod.

“You heard her, come on.”

And he does. He crawls on to the bed, eyes fixated on me, I gulp. My heart starts racing as he reaches me, he kneels between my legs, rough hands glide up my cafes to my thighs and back again.

“Are you two just going to stare at each other or are you going to give her a kiss?”

Kyungsoo looks past me to his brother, “Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t have to help with anything if you wouldn’t keep wasting time.”

I groan, “Can you both just stop before I go to handle this myself?”

Both pairs of hands on me tighten, “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Then do something Hyungs!”

Minseok laughs in my ear, “So demanding now. I love it. For now, let’s drop the whole Hyung thing, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Come on,” He urges, “I wanna hear you say it.”

I grin devilishly, “Make me.”

“Better get to work brother before I do.”

Without a word Kyungsoo leans back down to place a few kisses on my inner thigh, first the left then the right.

“Are you ready little wolf?”

“Yes please.”

#exo #xiumin #kai #sehun #kyungsoo #chanyeol #luhan #suho #chen #baekhyun #kris #yixing #tao #exo wolf #i am an alpha #im sorry

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yahboobeh · 5 years ago

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Why the f did I never post this: A Papabay companion piece

Everyone remembers the strip @papabay drew a little over a year ago with Neji and Tenten at the hot springs post war. If you don’t remember or just need to see it again. Apparently I wrote a little follow up piece to go with it. I hope everyone enjoys it.

He’d caught her - she could feel it. Her muscles tensed and her face burned with every glance from across the dinner table. The weight of the afternoon at the hot springs sat heavy over the two of them and not even Lee and Gai’s usual animated chatter seemed enough to fill the expanse of awkward silence that spanned across plates and cups and utensils.

Those stupid girls, thought Tenten bitterly. If they hadn’t called her out, accused her of ogling him... But they didn’t see what she saw. Behind lean muscle and pink scars (and an admittedly thin towel) lay a wasteland of emotional trauma.

She could push it deep, deep down most of the time, only letting the pain surface for the briefest moments. A flash of a memory and an ache in her chest, that’s all she would allow before shaking her head as if the gesture itself could detach the memory from her brain.

But a sense of shame had latched itself on to the image of Neji’s torso. It made her stomach lurch and her chest ache. Under the socially acceptable guise of dinner, Tenten sought to numb the memory with a stiff drink.

It may have worked if he hadn’t kept catching her eye. She flicked her gaze away as quickly as she could but Neji could read her like an open book. And it wasn’t long after dinner that she heard the long expected knock on her door.

Tenten wanted to act like everything was normal, that his awareness of any issue she might have was purely his imagination. But when she beckoned him in to her room her voice cracked and stuck in her throat.

Neji let himself in and closed the door with a soft click.

Tenten, too ashamed to meet his gaze, let her eyes drop to his chest where she could perfectly recall the raw, pink scars that bloomed under his shirt.

“Tenten, are you alright?”

Her eyes closed. Neji spoke her name with such gentle concern. The low, sweet sound caressed her ears, twinged in her chest and coiled low in her belly.

Her voice was tight in her throat and it took all she had to just nod.

Neji stepped closer to her. His body shifted awkwardly in her peripheral vision as her brain tried to piece together the movement, sluggishly coming to the conclusion that he was pulling his shirt off.

Now when she looked at him the scars were no longer imaginary. She gasped involuntary as images of his near death assaulted her.

He was closer now and his hand was warm around hers, quelling trembling fingers.

He drew her hand to his chest, to the scar just above his heart. Tenten’s fingers brushed over smooth ivory muscle and caught on the pink ridges of the scar. The scar itself was smooth with dips and crevasses and underneath it was his even and steady heartbeat.

Then the whole thing went blurry, a mash of pink and white before she was pulled into a warm embrace. It was then that she realized what had caused the change in her vision.

A shiver and a choked sob - then the tears. Neji held her tighter, rocked her gently and stroked her hair.

He whispered comforting words to her. Had he been talking the whole time? She couldn’t remember.

Between her own whimpers and sniffles the low rumble of his voice in her hair began to take on familiar patterns and settle into words.

“It’s okay,” he murmured and under her fingers, under the texture of the scar was his heartbeat again.

Neji was solid and warm and very much alive. She then found her voice. It was small and muffled by his neck, his hair and her tears - no louder than a sigh.

“Oh Neji...”

He held her tighter and rubbed her back.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head that any other day would have her reeling and speculating, but now it was just more comfort. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before another kiss.

She felt his hand over her own, pressing her palm flat over his chest. Tenten emerged from the crook of his neck and let her forehead rest against his.

“I’m still here.” His breath was warm against her cheek and his chest hummed with his voice and his heart continued to thumb out a strong, familiar rhythm.

Finally, Tenten allowed her eyes to meet his. Her heart soared and a smile tugged at her lips. Neji’s eyes crinkled with his own smile and Tenten realized it would be far too easy to kiss him.

This time, the heat in her face was not the work of shame, but the familiar burn of embarrassed infatuation.

She was either going to kiss him or...

“Neji Hyuuga, if you ever try and do something like that again I’ll kill you myself.”

He chuckled, the tension successfully broken.

“Believe me, I’m very much aware that you would revive me yourself to do just that.”

“That’s right - don’t forget it.”

And then he kissed her. With her threats still warm on her lips Neji had leaned in and kissed her. Instead of harsh words conjured in fear, her drew sighs of contentment from her mouth. He nibbled on her lips and slipped his tongue in to her mouth.

Tenten kissed him back as best she could, but her head was heavy and sluggish from crying and his tongue made her knees buckle, so she mostly allowed herself to be kissed, reveling in the taste of his mouth.

Neji kissed her across the room and to her bed. He kissed her laying down, under the blankets and in the dark. She traced the ridges of his scar aware of the increase of his heartbeat. Very much alive she thought and sighed from under him.

He could have done more, here in her bed, she wouldn’t have stopped him. But Tenten was just as content to let Neji kiss her until she fell asleep and when morning came he would wake her with his lips, drawing sleepy sighs from her and reminding her of his presence.

In the middle of the night, somewhere between kisses and sleep he had promised her he would never leave her, and the morning proved him a man of his word.

She still felt the ache, the heavy pang of knowledge and suffering when she drew her fingers across Neji’s chest. One night of kissing would never fix that. For each physical scar lay a dozen emotional spread across each member of Team Gai.

Healing took time, but Neji had reminded her that it was not a path she needed to walk alone. He would hold her hand and she would curl up in his embrace. And when they drew back the sheets and left her room at the inn, they would have Lee and Gai at their sides too.

#NejiTen #nejitenmonth2020 #my writing #naruto #fanfic #why didnt i post this sooner?#papabay is life #booh writes

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snarkwrites · 5 years ago

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sprung spring | cherry? popped. | xavier plympton {m}

PROMPT USED:

First time + permeate + “I need you. Now!” + rock in place + the steady creaking of the bed + supernatural being / human

NOTES:

Obviously, I am so so fucking awful at naming anything. And I tried my best to fuse ‘pre death’ Xavier’s personality with what he started to become before getting murdered and stuck in Camp Redwood. This is just my take. It’s probably not even remotely accurate, tbh. But.. It’s out here. I wrote the damn thing. I suppose I gotta own whatever consequence comes my way.

Fun fact... this is a small peek at a sort of story idea I have in mind that knowing me, I won’t ever write... So... yeah. Maybe if enough people bother me, I’ll think about writing the actual fic I have in mind. Hints of a soulmate au if you squint. Virgin sex. FYI, this is set in 2019. And the concept as I imagine it and would write it if I were to do a fic is a little... weird... twisty... idk mannnn...

WARNINGS:

unprotected sex - with a ghost, body fluids, heavy emphasis on biting and marking, oral / hints of orgasm denial, probably waay too fluffy / sappy Xavier, virgin ! human oc x ghost ! xavier... I think that’s it.

PAIRING:

Xavier Plympton x OFC, Cherie. American Horror Story 1984

TAGGING:

Oddly enough, there’s no one on my American Horror Story taglist. If you would like to be on my tag lists please go [ here ] and put yourself where you wish to be. Or dm me and tell me where you wanna be tagged and I’ll add you.

“You’re not down at the bonfire with your boytoy?” Xavier didn’t even look up from the magazine he was flipping through. He knew she’d be standing there, watching him. The air between them lingered heavily with words unspoken. Since earlier, when she’d seen the soulmate marking on his arm that matched her own, she’d been scarce. If they had run into each other, she’d been distant.

Montana was right. In a few weeks, they’d all be gone and things would go back to the way they’d been before. He’d been an idiot to think that he could just get close to Cherie and be fine with having to let go at the end of the summer. So when Cherie started to avoid him earlier, he hadn’t tried to fight it. He hadn’t gone out of his way to seek her out.

They were literally two ships passing at night, after all. He was dead, doomed to remain in the camp for the rest of time. She was alive and she had so much ahead to live for. Things he couldn’t give her, even though he realized now that he really wanted to.

If he were as selfish as he’d been on occasion in life, he’d be stopping at nothing to keep her by his side. But he wasn’t entirely that guy anymore, so maybe it was better this way.

In the time it took him to come to this conclusion, she’d wandered into the cabin, shutting the door behind her softly. Sinking down onto the edge of his bed, she sat there, staring down at worn floorboards.

“I was. But then I…” Cherie trailed off, going quiet. “Look, before I came here, everything was planned. I was fine with it. Then earlier tonight, Jake got drunk and high and he started acting like an ass like usual…” she trailed off again, taking a deep breath. “I broke up with him.”

Xavier sat up, letting the magazine fall to the mattress. Even though he knew it wasn’t a good idea, he found himself slipping an arm around her. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah, no… I don’t know. Everything is changing. I wish I could just freeze time. Or rewind it. I shouldn’t have come here, this was dumb, what am I even doing?” Cherie went to stand, but Xavier’s arms snaked around her hips and he pulled her back down to sit on his bed. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he leaned against her from behind.

This went against everything. He kept telling himself that he could handle the fact that the one thing he didn’t even realize he wanted having an actual for good expiration date attached, but today, her seeing their matching marks at last and distancing… It had shown him that he was wrong and he’d been trying to distance.

“No, no.. Freezing time or going back is the last thing you wanna do, doll. Believe me.” Xavier’s voice was warm and breathy against the shell of her ear and as he started to massage her shoulders, her eyes fluttered open and shut. Her head fell back and Xavier’s eyes locked on her neck as he licked his lips. He pressed closer.

“What’s that got to do with you comin in here, doll?”

“Because everything just became crystal clear… Maybe everything I had all planned out was wrong. Maybe Winona’s right. Shit happens for a reason. Coming out here, meeting you, I… I can’t fight the inevitable, not when I want it so bad it’s all I can see when I close my eyes… Do you know how hard it is, being around him, trying to pretend nothing’s changed and wishing it were you?”

Xavier’s breath caught and he gripped her body, pulling her into his lap before he could stop himself. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Trust me.”

“No, I know exactly what I’m saying.” Cherie’s tone was firm and she settled in his lap so that she was closer, pressing against him. As usual, he was almost icy cold. She gritted her teeth but smiled a little, taking his face in her hands. “You won’t make me change my mind. Look… I’m not saying that when the summer ends, I’m not gonna just…. Go off and do everything.. I’m not saying I give up, I just… I’m saying that I can’t keep going through the motions now. I just wanna be free. I want to enjoy things.”

“Babe, you can’t…” Xavier trailed off. She rocked herself against him and he swallowed hard, trying to shift the way she sat in his lap so she didn’t feel him about to burst through the jeans he was wearing. His hands slipped down her sides, squeezing her hips to try and stop her from doing it again.

“Why not? Don’t you want me? I mean we’ve been…Flirting for a while now and I thought that...Nevermind.” Cherie trailed off, confused and shaking her head. Her stomach was churning and she was starting to feel the embarrassment of potentially being wrong. She went to wiggle out of his lap and she made it to the door.

Xavier swore under his breath because the last thing he wanted to do was let her walk out that door. Goddamn it, he thought to himself, don’t I deserve something after all this bullshit?

“Wait, doll. Don’t go.” Xavier pressed himself against her from behind, his hand covering her hand on the doorknob, removing it. He slowly circled the shell of her ear with his tongue as he muttered lazily, “You’re not wrong, okay? I want you. So fucking much.” he thrust his hips against her backside, rubbing the bulge straining against his jeans against her backside and growling when the littlest bit of friction just wasn’t enough.

Just feeling how hard he was already through thin bike shorts had Cherie hissing and taking a ragged breath as she turned to face him and stared up. Her arms slipped up, wrapping around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck as she clung to him and pulled him down just slightly. Enough that her mouth brushed right against his and Xavier growled quietly again, his hands gripping her hips tighter. Up into his arms she went and he stepped back over to the bed, dropping her gently against the lumpy mattress. He leaned down, pressing himself into her, his hands pinning her hands at either side of her head. “I need you. Now. We just… we won’t think about anything but tonight, okay?” the question came breathy and warm against her neck as his lips latched on and he rocked himself into her, drawing out a needy whine and a few ragged breaths as she nodded. “Agreed.” grinding against his lap, her breath hitching all over again as she felt the bulge in his jeans getting even harder. Her cunt was throbbing. Every single time he bucked into her, she could feel herself dripping a little more.

Xavier’s forehead pressed into hers, his mouth latching onto her lips, drawing her into a slow and lazy kiss. Her tongue slipped out, trailing lazily over the outline of his lips and one of his hands left her hand, drifting down between them and tugging the baggy crop top she was wearing up and out of the way, letting it settle on the cabin floor.

Cherie tugged his shirt over his head, throwing it next to her own and Xavier’s hands drifted up and down her body, lingering on her breasts, pushing them together, his tongue slipping over her teeth, tracing them and then slipping between them to tangle with her own tongue. She rocked herself up into him, a quiet series of urgent whimpers and begging moans making him chuckle and reach for the pull to the lamp on the table next to the bed, cloaking the room in total darkness. His mouth broke from her mouth, working down her neck after he’d pushed her hair out of his way.

The warmth of his breath against her ear sent a shiver racing through her body and when he muttered quietly “Gonna be a long night, doll.” smirking down at her when he felt her legs squeeze into his hips a little more. Her fingertips walked down his chest, toying with the button on his jeans as she stared up at him and bit her lip, giving a soft giggle when she responded quietly, “I hope so.”

Every part of him wanted to follow up with how he’d think of her as belonging to him after tonight, after they crossed this line, but he had to stop himself. He had to hold back. It was bad enough he was going this far. To delude himself -and most importantly, her, about a future they couldn’t ever logically have would be insane. Rather than do that, his hands caught in the waistband of her shorts and he started to pull them down her legs. She got his button undone, then the zip to his pants and Xavier rose a little too quickly, bumping the top of his head on the bunk above him and scowling while swearing about it, kicking his pants and boxers free at the ankle. Cherie’s eyes wandered over him slowly, lingering and even widening a little at the sight of his cock, standing at attention.

The thickness of his length had her swallowing hard and biting her lip as her heart raced erratically. Xavier knew exactly what she was staring at and it made him give a quiet chuckle as he lowered himself down all over again. Only her undergarments remained and those were quickly done away with, falling to the floor and settling on the edge of the nightstand and as soon as she was pinned beneath him, completely naked, Xavier’s eyes roamed over her body slowly and hungrily.

He licked his lips and centered himself above her, his body spreading her legs. Lowering his face to her face, he muttered smoothly, “Last chance to back out, pretty girl.”

“If I were going to back out, handsome… I never would’ve come in here to you.” Cherie admitted, going quiet when he stared at her a second or two as what she said clicked into place for him. He smirked, his mouth conquering her neck and throat, marking her up and not bothering to be careful or discreet about it at all.

Oh no, not him. He wanted tonight to be seared into her mind. If he was going to be stuck here, not able to forget her and knowing she was out there, away from him and living… If he were going to endure that torture, she was not going to forget tonight if he could help it. He wanted her to look back years from now and miss him. Wonder what might have been.

Maybe it was selfish. At the moment, he didn’t particularly care. It was already enough that he was going to do the right thing at the end of the summer and just let her go. That was already killing him. That was going to be enough selfless for him, right there. Knowing he had to let her go and that he’d never see her again, he’d never get to know what might have been.

“Fucking right you did, doll. You came to me.” Xavier’s voice was husky and low as he muttered into soft skin. Cherie took a shaky breath and gripped hold of his biceps, making him stop his mouth’s venture down her body and stare at her. “Just a heads up… I’m not exactly experienced at this.. Any of it… at all.”

Her words had him gaping a little but leaning down, capturing her mouth in a needy and bruising kiss as he muttered lazily into the kiss, “This is going to be fun, then.” as her fingers caught in his hair, threading through.

He reached down between them, wrapping his hand around his length, raising up to guide it along her folds, staring down at her with that devilish smirk as he licked his lips. When he teased the tip between them, he shivered and gave a quiet groan at the way she dripped already. “ Tell me something, doll..” he muttered , leaning down, pressing into her as his mouth moved across her collarbones, nipping and sucking. He stopped to look at her.

“Yeah?” Cherie breathed out, squirming, trying anything she could to get him inside her. She gripped his jaw, guiding his mouth back to hers, her lips clenching his bottom one almost greedily as she bucked herself against him, splitting her folds as her cunt dragged down the length of his cock. Xavier growled and gripped her hip tight enough to leave a handprint behind and chuckling, he finished his question, “Are you ready to get your cherry popped, doll?”

“Yes.” gasping, she gave her answer as she tried again to buck against the grip he had on her hip. She couldn’t, and just knowing that had Xavier smirking, his tongue dragging lazily over his lip as he rose up and then crawled down her body, settling himself between her thighs, holding them spread with his hands. His tongue rolled up the insides, lapping greedily at every drop as she dripped for him. He felt her hand drifting down, tangling in the top of his hair and tugging. “That’s it, pretty girl. Pull my hair. Move those fucking hips.” Xavier drawled against her cunt as his tongue trailed right between it, a broad stripe moving upward to circle her clit one, two, three times. When he sank his teeth into the edge of the bundled nerves, she cried out, her other hand gripping the faded blanket on his bed. Her hips rocked upward against his mouth and his nose bumped against her dripping heat as he inhaled and groaned at the scent of her. He could feel his cock getting harder at just the thought of burying inside, having her walls clench around it. Feeling her drip and coat it. Making her scream his name over and over and over again. When she whimpered and whined and begged him to go faster with his tongue after he’d buried it deep in her cunt, he chuckled and smirked against her. “Does this feel good? Because fuck… You taste so sweet.”

Cherie’s head fell back and she gripped the blanket and his hair tighter, angling her hips upward, rocking against his mouth like he told her to, harder and faster. The faster her hips moved, the more his tongue swirled. Xavier growled against dripping folds as the taste of her absolutely flooded his tongue and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he made his way back up her body, pulling her up, crushing her against him as he pulled her into a rough and bruising kiss.

He felt her tense beneath him as he started to sink into her and she whimpered, biting her lip as she looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s not gonna hurt long, okay? I promise.” Xavier’s voice was almost a growl when he muttered the words against the shell of her ear. His hands drifted down, gripping her hips as he sank into her a little deeper, staring down at her the whole time.

“Fuck.” Cherie gasped, “So big.”

The words drew a pleased smirk and Xavier pressed his hips into her hips firmly, going still after he’d buried himself in a little deeper. She tried to move her hips but he squeezed them, holding her still and shaking his head. “You good?”

“Mhm.” Cherie muttered and Xavier buried his cock completely inside, slow and deep thrusts, his hips smacking against hers so hard that he knew there would be bruises. She met every single one of his deep and hard thrusts with her hips, moaning his name and whimpering, clinging to him from below. “C’mon, faster, please?” she managed to gasp, but Xavier continued at his preferred pace, hell bent on fucking her deep into the mattresses beneath them. She pouted up at him, frustrated tears stinging at her eyes because she could feel herself tensing and tightening, just like she’d been when he had his head buried between her thighs and he kept stopping then.

She wanted another orgasm.

He seemed to be hell bent on taking his time. As his cock struck against her throbbing g spot over and over, slowly and steadily, she moaned louder, her voice drowning out the soft smack of their bodies colliding and the slow and steady creak of the old iron bed frame. “C’mon, doll.. Scream my name. Let everyone know who’s got their cock buried deep in that dripping pussy.” Xavier urged, smirking when he started to go a little faster and Cherie seemed to get louder, her moans bouncing off the walls and drowning out all the other little background noises around them. “You’re so fucking tight, so wet. Fuck.” Xavier managed to gasp as he went still inside her, holding his finger to her lips, leaning in to steal a few kisses.

It felt so fucking good he knew if he kept going, he’d explode. Stopping was better than doing that. But he knew he couldn’t hold off much longer, either. And he could feel her tensing all over, practically shaking now, whimpering and begging him to be able to come.

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up, pretty girl. Do you wanna feel?” he asked as he drove into her deeper and harder, his hips snapping erratically as his mouth latched onto her neck, leaving a line of bites and bruises in his wake. Cherie moaned as her orgasm rushed through her, leaving her shaking and whimpering, rocking her hips against his thrusts greedily, gasping for air as she clung to him. Xavier fucked her through her orgasm and right into his own, the tightness of her cunt as it encased his length driving him right over the edge before he could stop. “Fuck… Fuck… here it comes.” he groaned as his cock throbbed, rope after rope of his sticky hot seed seeping into her deep, their juices puddling beneath them on the bed. He flopped down behind her, pulling her partially on top of him, raking his hand through her hair to push it back out of her eyes as he pulled her into a lazy yawn filled kiss.

“Sun’s comin up.” he muttered quietly, chuckling when she swore under her breath but then cuddled against him completely and muttered through a yawn, “Fuck it. I’m too lazy to give a damn what that overbearing woman could possibly have to say when she realizes I’m not in my bed.”

“That’s the spirit, doll. Just stay here with me a little longer.”

#xavier plympton fanfiction #xavier plympton fanfic #xavier plympton fic #xavier plympton oneshot #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton imagines #// fourseasonsofsm*tselfchallenge #// tw: body fluids #// tw unprotected s*x #// tw drug mention #// tw biting #// tw s*xual content

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goodfortune-au · 4 years ago

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Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 17: Burst

When she sees it, it doesn’t fully metabolize at first. The archives are dark, and she thinks that maybe the shadows are playing tricks on her, that they’re inspiring her brain to dig up morbid shapes from the deepest, darkest dredges of her mind. Shapes that only existed when she was dormant, when her consciousness was little more than a whisper to end a conversation. Shapes that existed only in nightmare worlds and sweat-soaked fever dreams. When she sees it, her mind is moving so slowly that it only processes what’s in front of her one word at a time. Gaping. Sharp. Jagged. Ripped. Dripping. Seeping. Oozing. She can’t look away, her gaze is chained, shackled to it as she stands on the last step of the descending staircase. It’s much larger than a rat, or any other kind of pest she could have possibly anticipated, and she can’t make out the details of its form very well in the shadows. She can hear it though, can hear something firm give and tear from brute force and it plucks at chords of primal fear instilled deep within her. The sight itself is extraordinary in truly the worst ways imaginable, and the lack of details almost serves to make it more unnerving. The image is stark and grotesque even from such a distance and the longer she stands there staring at it the more she’s losing feeling in her legs. They feel as though they might give in underneath her at any moment, and she can’t move her eyes either; they’re wide like saucers and they won’t shift, can’t shift, simply rooted to the spot like her feet underneath her. She’s growing numb but there’s a feeling building in her gut, in her lungs, and she can only ignore it for so long. For now, there’s what’s in front of her and the way it looks, the way it sounds, and no matter how much she wished she could in this moment, she can’t truly escape it.

There, in the darkness of the archives, stands a ghostly, spectral visage. Something truly inhuman, something eldritch and unnatural, hunched over in the great, infinite black. It seems vaguely humanoid, a tall, gangly body attached to a big, gaping maw stretched open impossibly wide. The mouth boasts what had to be hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, and she can see it elongating further to accommodate that which hung lifelessly from its jaws. It’s limp and jutting outward from the monstrous cavity, and she can only assume that it had to be a long dead animal of some kind. But no, that wasn’t right, couldn’t be right. It was much too big to be an animal, and it’s limbs were much too long. It appeared bipedal, and though she can’t see very well she processes wet, dripping fabric hanging off of it. As she continues to process the ungainly movements of the mouth swallowing up the carcass, her eyes start to notice the visual details of the beast before her, details mostly obscured by the shadow of the room but given away by the reflected light above the stairs. It doesn’t appear to notice her as she strains her eyes to look closer, as she stares in slackjawed horror at the sight before her, a display of vicious bloodshed that only the truly deranged could appreciate. The face is white, painted and pallid, and she cannot see eyes on the creature, no doubt lost within the wrinkles of its features, hidden by muscles pulled taut by the sneer of its open mouth. The… Blood dripping from its jowls blends into stencils of red face paint stretching up from its lips to its forehead and wisps of fire hang about its head, bouncing with every snapping movement of its jaws. There’s… bird-like feathery ruffles about its neck, and at the bottom of long, lanky arms clad in dirty silk there’s unforgivingly sharp talons poking out of coal-black hands, large and intimidating. The creature has a firm grip on whatever it’s eating, the bones of its jaws cracking and snapping as it swallows it down. With each passing second she’s discerning the scene playing out before her eyes, the picture becoming just a little bit clearer, the thing before her becoming even more recognizable. The appearance of the thing is unmistakable now, it… It’s…

“P-Pennywise…” She breathes.

It turns toward her with a cursory glance, its mouth snapping loudly again as it continues chewing and she bites back a shriek, resisting the building feeling in her gut, the screams she had been holding back for so long. The maw closes just a little, just enough to allow its golden eyes to roll back into view on its face and it stares into her from the shadows, processing her just as she had been processing it. She backs up a pace and finds herself falling back onto the stairs. She looks up at it helplessly, still in such raw shock that she can’t speak. She can’t even breathe, the air is simply gone from her lungs, and the longer she stares the louder she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. It doesn’t look anything like him in this moment but she knows that it’s him. She knows. And she knows what he had been eating, the answer being plainly obvious in her mind as she reflects back on the last couple hours of her shift. It horrifies her. It disgusts her.

“Angel.” It gurgles, he gurgles. His voice is infernal and low, it commands fear and meek obeisance. She flinches and whimpers a sob into her hands, eyes welling up with terrified tears. He finishes chewing and polishes off the rest of the carcass and then, slowly, very slowly, his face starts to return to normal. She watches, frozen and unnerved, as the rest of his facial features slowly come back, the sound of joints cracking and popping in the silence as his mouth gradually takes shape again and closes. She blubbers inconsolable inanities into clammy palms, tears streak down her shivering face. She’s shaking now, starting to back up the stairs slowly and as carefully as she can in her panic, her mind broken with fragmented thoughts racing through her battered head. First the boys in the library and now… Now this.. This… He’s advancing on her all the while, taking calculated steps to match her own movements back towards the haven of the upstairs library, the light from above seeming warm and comforting now to her cold, dread-soaked body. He’s cautious, catching up to her with every step.

“Angel.” He repeats. His voice is back to normal, smooth and lilting and sweet, and he wears a look of genuine concern on his face but she can’t even look at it.

“Pennywise, I…” She stumbles up another step. “I can’t- I can’t …! This is-”

“Shhhhhh…” He’s getting closer. She blinks back the tears in her eyes and chokes on her revulsion.

“Puh-please don’t… Don’t come closer.” She breathes, winded from lack of air. In this, in all of this, she’d somehow forgotten how to breathe. This was… This was sick. She felt sick.

“Angel…” He sounds sad and, all of a sudden, though she hides her eyes behind shaking hands, she can see peeking through her fingers that his eyes are blue, that familiar blue she’d fallen in love with watching him on the Derry Children’s Hour. They twinkle in the darkness, oceans clear as day on a black horizon and she can feel her horrified dismay start to deflate ever so slightly at the sight of them, so somber and heartbroken that it makes her ache. Just like that, with a simple look and a delicate whisper, he’s broken down her horror ever so subtly, made her start to forget what she’d seen by replacing it with all those familiar, fond memories of him. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done… But this…

“Don’t hide, don’t run away from me, darling, please… ” He almost seems to beg her. The bells on his suit are subtle yet undeniably present, almost a death knell in her mind. She stops in her fruitless pursuit to ascend the staircase, unconsciously obeying him as she squirms at the back of the third step. He makes his way ever closer, slowly catching her pace until he seizes the gap entirely. He towers over her cowering form, and for the first time, she finds that disquieting rather than safe and comforting. She keeps her hands glued to her face, not daring to face him directly despite the instincts inside of her urging her to lower her guard. After all, this was Pennywise. He was her protector, her guardian angel; he’d looked after her and offered her comfort in her greatest times of need. He’d made her laugh, he’d brought her things to make her happy; he was everything to her, he was her entire world. But this… It starts to trickle in from the back of her mind again, washing over her like a sickness, a full-body tremor, thoughts and inklings she’d had a thousand times over but foolishly ignored. Threads of little hints and implications, insights and indicators of something truly terrible under the tip of the iceberg, standing right there before her and she’d simply overlooked it, chosen to pretend that it wasn’t there. The world around her was rose-tinted, and she’d been blind to the rest of the color spectrum, rampant with saturated shades and hues of vicious, unforgiving reality.

“Darling, come here…” He’s coming closer.

She sobs from behind her hands, resisting him, resisting her own mind. “N-no. No, I-I-”

“Angel, my dear, you have to let me explain…”

Explain what? Her mind is swimming with it all, her head a raging whirlpool of realizations, of hypotheticals almost surely made fact by this discovery. She didn’t even know what to make of it, what conclusions to draw from it, from any of it. She finds herself turning away instead. She’s in denial, she truly can’t wrap her head around it so she refuses to. She wanted the comfort and the safety of the bubble again, she’s desperate to wind back the clock and forget what she’s seen, just bury her head in the sand and forget it all. But the bubble is popped and she’s here in the real world again, cold and dark and cruel. And there in front of her is someone she loves so dearly, someone she had pined to hold in her arms for so long, someone she wanted to run to. But she couldn’t move, even as he looms closer. She can’t move, she can’t breathe. She’s petrified.

“You… You k-k-killed him…” She whimpers.

“It was necessary.” He whispers, coming closer still. “The filthy little roach made you cry, he threatened you… They all did…” His eyes flash a mean, hostile yellow for a second as he speaks of them, but just as quickly as it had come they wash back blue again when his tone softens. “I needed to take care of it, take care of them…”

T...Take care of them?

He approaches her carefully and crouches down to meet her cowering frame. He appears thoughtful and cautious, and after a moment of silence between them she can see his hands slowly and gingerly reaching towards her. He gently pulls her hands away from her face and she lets it happen, too weak and exhausted to resist him. “I know it’s hard to understand, I do…” He looks down into her eyes and bafflingly, despite it all, she can sense true remorse on his face. Somehow, beyond it all, beyond the monster, beyond everything she’s just seen, it’s still him, it’s still her guardian angel underneath. She starts to feel that tingling warmth in her gut, staring unblinkingly at him as he speaks to her. “But I did this for you… I needed to protect you…”

He strokes her cheek. “...I was only trying to act in your best interest. I… Care for you so deeply, my pet… I…” Her heart stops.

I love you.

She can’t breathe. There it was, spoken out loud for the first time, a feeling between them too strong and potent to deny. Something that had been lingering for years, for eons somehow, and she’s thunderstruck. She doesn’t know how to react at first, she’s silent as she processes his declaration, thoughts of a million different flavors stampeding through her mind while she fights off the lingering dissent. He… He loved her. It was something she’d wanted to hear from someone her entire life, a bold and earnest admission that would make the world a fairytale, if only for a brief and yet deliciously eternal moment. She hadn’t thought even a year ago that she would find something like this, would find herself swept off her feet by a handsome beau, someone that would dedicate himself to her so genuinely. Enough to stay with her, accept her as she is, enough to say… But no, wait..! He… He was… She stares into his eyes wordlessly, unable to look away even as his eyes fade from blue and surge slowly into molten gold. His eyes burn, they’re impossibly bright, and the longer she looks into them, the more she’s losing feeling in her body again. The warmth was… So different now.

He stands again, gently bringing her with him. He holds her steady, and even as she stands two steps above the ground he still towers over her somehow. His touch is soft and sweet, and despite how numb she is she can feel herself shuddering with delight at the feeling of silk hands trailing up the side of her body, one resting at her hip while the other has come back up to stroke the slope of her jaw. His voice is a lullaby and she finds herself consoled by it; with each passing second, the atrocity she bore witness to is fading from her mind. Come to think of it, most everything was at this point. The world was fading out around them, time had frozen. It seemed like the only thing that existed now was her, and him.

“This was… The only way to do right by you, my sweet. Pennywise saw, Pennywise heard the way they talked to you... I couldn’t have anything threatening to hurt you, take you away from me… You understand, don’t you?”

… Don’t you?

She’s starting to nod, her eyes are glazing ever so slightly. He brushes away a fresh tear that slips down her cheek.

“...This was necessary, my darling. This was the only way…”

This was necessary… This was the only way…

It’s ringing in her head, he’s repeating it slowly like a mantra. His eyes never leave hers, they simply bore down into her like the sun beating down on the earth on a hot summer’s day. And she is helpless to it, helpless to his appeal; all she can think about in this moment is that he loved her, he tried to protect her. Regardless of how he did it, he… He did it for her. A horrific act, sure, but one done out of loyalty and devotion. How could she spurn such a thing? How could she turn away from it, when she’d so pined for anything in the world that would make her feel so… Special?

“This was necessary…” She feels herself start to mumble in her haze, her eyes sinking down to the ruffles at his neck as she mutters it like a broken record. “...This was the only way. It was the only way, it… It...”

“Yes…” He purrs. “Yes…” He’s still stroking her cheek, gently, soothingly, but his hand… Pauses, there, at her chin, almost thoughtfully. Almost as though it was carefully calculating what it might do next. He cocks his head as he looks down at her, positively entranced and spellbound, waiting for his next words, cheeks stained with fallen tears, and he admires the way the sunbeams from the window above halo around her form so elegantly. She looks so small, so small and vulnerable; defenseless. He could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop him, simply wouldn’t be able to. Her chestnut hair falls over her shoulders in a wave and it glows, burns almost as brightly as his in the light of the corridor above her. And her eyes… Oh, they’re so beautiful like this, he could just stare into them forever… He wants to look at them, he wants to marvel at them, rich and hazel and full of soul. He tilts her chin upward and their eyes sync up with each other again, and he loves the way he can see her now, hinging on his every word and movement. She was truly hypnotized in this moment, purely transfixed on him, the light in her world, the only thing that would ever bring her true meaning. He stares into her, looking through her, dissecting her every thought and sampling the taste of her innocent emotion, and then without another word he leans in.

He captures her lips with his in a dizzying kiss and now, time simply ceases to exist. Her belly coils and springs with a storm of butterflies, bringing sensation back into the numbness of her body and suddenly, the world is all vivid technicolor. He deepens it, seeking her mouth hungrily, delighting in the way her eyes flutter closed to savor the feeling. She moans helplessly and leans into it, her hands feeling around for his chest and clinging to the silk there in an effort to ground herself. Pennywise lets one hand rest elegantly at her cheek but the other is placed dominantly around her hip. He pulls her closer and grins into her mouth when she squeaks. It all feels so good that she feels like she must have dreamt this moment into existence, and every time she gasps air into her greedy lungs he takes her lips again for another kiss. He doesn’t let her rest, not like this, not when there was so much pent up tension between them that desperately begged for release. He simply keeps coming back in with another sweep, eagerly meeting her lips every time until they’re caught in an endless feedback loop together. She doesn’t want it to end. She can taste rust on his tongue but she couldn’t care less, she didn’t care about anything now. His lips are so soft that she thinks they might just melt into hers and the warmth of his breath, somehow cloying, was addictive. She feels like she can just be like this forever, but her eyes flutter open again when he starts to pull back. Her heart sinks.

“Ohhhhh, Angel…” He sighs. “Pennywise knew, knew you would understand… Such a good, smart girl you are… Do you know that, pet?”

“I am?” She asks, a faint hopeful twinkle in her eyes. They’re still glazed over but she’s rediscovering feeling in her body now. She’s slowly coming back.

He pulls her against his chest in an intimate hug. He strokes soothingly down her hair with one hand, keeping the other on the small of her back. She presses her cheek against the silk with a breathy exhale, letting her arms wrap around his midsection and rest there. She’s floating.

“Yes… No one else in the world could accept me as I am… But I know that you can… There is no one else like you, little one, little Angel…”

You are truly special.

She glows there in his arms, simply letting the euphoria of his words wash over her. The darkness of the archives is as prominent as ever, but it’s as though the light shining through the window overhead is casting a spotlight on them. She’s still reeling from the kiss, simply not able to fully process what’s just happened. It seems as though everything that has happened down here has happened over the course of years, and she can hardly remember what it is that she was so upset about. She can… She can remember, but it doesn’t seem so bad now, not when she knew why he did it. It seemed to make sense in her moonstruck mind, she remembered just how small and petrified she’d been not an hour before when she was being harassed by those boys, just how repulsed she had been by their threats and implications, how she was screaming out in her head for Pennywise to come and save her from them, exact justice somehow for what they had done. He’d come a little later than she had anticipated, but he had come to her all the same, and offered a permanent solution to her problem. He’d… He’d protected her, he’d made sure they would never ever threaten her again. Right now it simply didn’t matter what he had done, Angel wasn’t even registering it. She simply stands there with him, still and silent and yet, despite it all, perfectly content in this moment.

An eternity seems to pass between them, Pennywise holding her close, Angel returning the gesture, and the both of them so at peace in each other’s company that nothing else mattered. They had hugged so many times before but it was never like this; somehow, this was something unlike anything else. They were becoming one, their souls were resonating together, the stars were aligning for this perfect moment and neither wanted that moment to end. Angel was starting to find that the longer she spent there in his arms, the more she was inclined to stay there. She knew where she was, she knew they stood together there in broad daylight, that she was shirking her responsibilities right now by being with him, but she didn’t care about any of it. He was warm, he was safe, he was everything she needed to forget what she’d seen, and some small part of her was afraid that if she left his arms, it would all come flooding back to her again, that she’d have to deal with it. No, she couldn’t, not now. Now was just too perfect, and she couldn’t pop the newly rejuvenated bubble that had reformed around them. All she could do was just… Just…

“Come, look at me, darling.”

She meets his eyes again as he pulls back from her. He looks at her with sunny eyes, but they don’t burn anymore. They just make her feel like home. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lets his hands rest gracefully at her shoulders. He rubs them comfortingly, his gaze never breaking from hers when he speaks. His voice is soft and syrupy sweet.

“I don’t want to have to let you go, but I’m afraid I must, at least for now…”

She deflates just a little, just enough for him to notice. He appears apologetic.

“I know, I know… But I’m sure the librarian is looking for you, and I don’t want you to get in trouble... You understand, don’t you, sweet girl?”

She appears to contemplate his words, then nods slowly and somberly. He chuckles, rubbing her cheek with endearment.

“ That’s my girl. Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

Her face brightens and she smiles and he loves it. He can see it in her eyes again, a fire that he hopes will never go out, a spark that glints and burns brightly within her bold, hazel irises. He’s about to pull back from her and let her go but then she lunges forward and does the impossible. She initiates a second kiss and he’s caught entirely by surprise, the pleasant sensation of her lips against his so sublime and inviting that he can do nothing except lean into it again. He takes her head in his hands and pushes back, and he feels himself shuddering with raw, primal desire when he hears, feels her whimpering into his mouth. She’s dizzy, almost ready to faint there on the staircase but he holds her upright, making sure this moment persists. He’s not ready to let her go now. The passion between them is electric as they share in each other’s blissful, raspy breaths, but Angel is the one to pull back now; she clears her throat and looks shyly down at the ground, almost in admission that she didn’t know what had come over her. Pennywise tilts her chin up again and smiles, but he doesn’t say a word. His eyes communicate everything.

“I should… I should be going…” She giggles, pressing her hands up against her hot cheeks. “Don’t wanna… Piss her off. I should…”

“Then go, my dear.” He says evenly and with compassion. “Go ahead…”

She hesitates, staring at him just a moment longer, but then she turns and starts to slowly ascend the staircase. A few paces upward and she stops, she turns back and looks at him bashfully again.

“Go on…” He encourages her. “Go on, sweet girl, little love. I’ll be right behind you, promise promise.”

She smiles and turns around, continuing up the staircase.

~~~~

The rest of the day had gone very smoothly for Angel. Once she had walked back up the steps and back into the main room, the world on her shoulders had felt just a little bit lighter. Things had resumed as normal, the librarian hadn’t hounded her on where she had been for so long; in fact, when she had cast a glance at the clock overhead she found that little more than five minutes had seemed to pass the entire time she was down there, and what’s more, the library had apparently carried on just fine in her absence. She had remembered feeling so calm and mellow when she picked up where she left off, like nothing in the world could get her down. No paranoid insecurities or mean-spirited boys

(or monsters lurking in the shadows)

Could spoil her mood; no, Angel was simply walking on clouds. The memory of the kiss was so ethereally vivid that it was all she could seem to think about. It was something Angel had built up in her mind for so long, something she had been pining for for ages, and now that she had experienced it for the first time, she could do nothing else but relive it in her mind again and again and again. Perhaps it was silly to get so hung up on such a thing, but that didn’t matter to her. She’d been waiting so long, this had all been building for the better part of a year, ever since she had started developing feelings for him. To tell the truth, it went even further than that; Angel had wondered how all of this might feel pretty much her entire pubescent life, when the pressures of having a relationship had first started to weigh on her generation. She hated having to watch others experience such a thing when she hadn’t the luck to do so herself, it was utterly soul-crushing. But now that it had finally happened, it had seemed worth the wait. It had all seemed worth the wait.

She continued her shift in a kind of starry-eyed repose. She had felt him there with her; he didn’t speak, he didn’t exist physically but she could feel him. His aura was present in the room like mist over a tranquil pond; it dominated the space in a very subtle, very delicate way. She felt herself getting lost in that haze again, dopey, dreamy grin spread over her face as she assisted with checkout for the majority of the rest of her shift, and the haze persisted even as she took a broom to the floors and took her time wiping down all the bookshelves. When she’d checked in with the librarian and punched out, she’d collected her things and walked leisurely out the green double doors. She hadn’t hurried home today as she had so many times before; today she was so blissful that she needed to walk slowly just so she could savor it all. She wasn’t worried at all about being accosted by some low-life hoodlum, for she knew if she was, Pennywise would surely save her somehow. The how of it was escaping her mind for the time being but that didn’t matter; she simply knew that he would come and she would be safe.

She plays with the bell around her neck as she strolls along Up-Mile-Hill, still flush with ecstasy from the events of the day. He’d kissed her, had even said he loved her… She could hardly believe it, she was so overcome with joy that she was practically skipping at the thought of it. She’d been imagining it, had been contemplating the events that might lead up to such a profession for months. How he might come to her on bended knee or sweep her off her feet, whisk her into a dip during some profound romantic moment and look her in the eyes, saying breathlessly those three perfect words. How their mutual stare would linger for what seemed an eternity before the revelation of his feelings overtook him and he finally leaned forward to give her what she had been dreaming of for years. How her knees would wobble, how her heart would thunder in her chest at the feeling of those soft, red lips against hers. She had wanted it from him for so long, and though it seemed now she could have taken it for her own whenever she’d wanted to, it had meant much more to her in the end that he’d finally decided to take that step for the both of them. She had wondered if he had held the same reservations as she, that he might have hesitated to take that crucial next step for fear of scaring her off, and that’s why he had taken so long. That he saw the same value in her that she saw in him, that he had simply been biding his time for the right moment to proclaim his love. That he was afraid of losing her. It appealed so much to the hopeless romantic in Angel that she simply couldn’t help but entertain the thought.

Everything else was lost to her. All that had existed in Angel’s mind for the next few days had been the first kiss, the first “I love you,” the bubble and everything else that was perfect about their relationship. Beyond that, she had trouble thinking clearly, or processing, or remembering. When she’d come home that evening after the first kiss, Pennywise had been waiting for her, had immediately taken up all her attention the second she walked through the door. He’d asked her how the rest of her day had been just as he always did and given her a loving peck on the top of her head, had smoothed his hands comfortingly down her shoulders and listened to her earnestly as she talked. They’d watched TV together that night, and he’d come to cuddle with her in her bed until she drifted off to sleep. He’d made sure that he was the only thing on her mind until she shut off for the night, the loving “boyfriend,” the perfect version of him that had given her exactly what she had wanted. He’d made sure everything proceeded as normal. He wanted her not to think about what she’d seen, wanted her to come to terms with it gradually as the hypnotic haze gradually wore off in the next week or so. When she was sober enough to ask questions, and he knew she would, he would give her the truth. He knew it would break her up, he knew she would seek comfort, and he would be all too delighted to offer it to her. But for now, let the bubble last a little bit longer. He owed that to her.

Angel got up the next day for work positively glowing, and Pennywise had remarked on it that morning, had opined about how her smile seemed to brighten up the room, that it was contagious and he was absolutely thrilled to see it. He was even delighted to find that she didn’t dodge or deflect his compliment; she simply giggled at the words in her head, at the voice in her ear, and merrily continued in her routine. Pennywise couldn’t help but bask in the flavor of her joy; he had found the sweet tang of it to be absolute heaven on his palate, and the sight of her so happy had plucked at something warm and lovely inside of him. Pennywise was a great and loathsome and vile creature devoid of compassion and empathy for most, but he was not without something doting reserved for that which was worthy, that which could unlock such a gentle part of him. That part of him had always existed, but it was simply dormant up until he had finally looked upon her face with his own two eyes, once she had come to him like a dream, and then it had bloomed so beautifully like a rare and eternal flower. Pennywise did not resent such feelings, he had longed to feel them for centuries, but he would not feel them for anyone or anything else in the world. Angel was special.

He had watched her go about her business that first day following the kiss, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly, as though nothing had happened to upset her in the first place. She had gone to work, had gone through all the motions of her daily procedure; he’d accompanied her on lunch break that day and kept her company (even sending her off with another kiss when it was over, this time a quick and familiar peck on the lips that had her stumbling clumsily back inside like an ungainly drunkard after one too many pints of booze). He’d teased her about her ditzy behavior and found pleasure in the way her face would flush, how she would consequently become even more airheaded in the process (if that were even possible) as a result of his playful pestering and try very earnestly to keep her cool in front of the patrons. He’d even found her humming that all-too-familiar melody while she went about her work, playing with her bell while she was cataloguing returns or manning the front desk. But things had almost very nearly gone awry when Angel had to put something back in the archives; he could taste the dissent in her head as it came swimming up from the depths of her mind’s ocean, could tell that the cogs were starting to spin again in her brain, that she was one unfortunate revelation away from breaking down sobbing on the hardwood floor. Couldn’t have her making a scene in public, at her job of all places. He knew that would jeopardize her. He needed her to come to terms with it in a safer place, when the two of them could talk about it uninterrupted for as long as they needed to. So he’d started whispering in her ear sweet little things to distract her; how pretty she looked, how soft and sumptuous her lips were when they’d kissed, how he couldn’t wait for her shift to be over so he could kiss her all over again, and slowly but surely she’d forgotten it all over again.

Pennywise wished he could take all the credit for keeping her stewing mind at bay, but the truth was Angel had wanted to forget what she’d seen just as much as he did. It was just as much her own doing as it was his for, after all, only the willing can be hypnotized, and Angel had fallen under his spell very quickly and readily. She had always been this way; always the ostrich, never wanting to face discomfort head on, and Pennywise could not be more pleased for it. It only meant that she would be that much easier to win over, knowing that she would rather cope with an unsavory realization about someone she cared about rather than lose them entirely put him at a clearly marked advantage. It was definitely something of a weakness for her but Pennywise took no qualms in exploiting it, knowing that every little detail of her character worked cosmically to make sure they would end up together in the end, that the ends justified the means for him. Though he cared greatly about her content, his happiness was paramount, and he would stop at nothing to secure it for himself. He didn’t feel guilty about it, for how could he? He knew that his love would fulfill her more than anything else in this miserable little world, so how could he possibly deny her that? What were a few well-meaning manipulations for an eternity of bliss? She would forgive him.

Once the work day was over, Angel quickly cleaned up and proceeded homeward. The walk home was pleasant and congenial; the atmosphere of the town didn’t seem grim as it so often did, it just seemed as though things were fine, that they had always been fine, that there wasn’t a lick of anything sinister lurking in the shadows or behind any corridors waiting to pounce on its next unfortunate victim. No, Angel had felt very at ease the entire walk home, counting the minutes until she walked through the front door again, until she would find him waiting for her, ready to lavish her in affection and attention and praise again. Angel found that she never seemed to tire of her new routine, and in fact, she was growing to love and cherish it all the more with each passing day. She would never get tired of him, or the way he woke her up every morning, or the way he would tease her at work, how he would sing to her every night; she always looked forward to his presence and missed him when he was gone. The daily validation, his assurances of her when she was low, the way he seemed to dote on her so unconditionally, it had all meant so much to Angel. It was a new normal unlike any other she’d ever experienced before. It refreshed her in a way that made the daily grind not so bad, because even if she’d had the worst day imaginable, even if she’d gotten jaded with her station in life as she so often did, all she would have to do is think of him and all her problems would seem to magically disappear. Pennywise was new and exciting in a way that just… Wasn’t comparable to anything else.

So when she had walked through the front door and found him waiting for her again as he had done so many times before, she had come to him happily. Yes the day had been easy, and she had gotten through it handily, but there was still no thrill equal to seeing him in the flesh again after she’d spent so long pining painfully after him. The muscle memory of the way her eyes would widen and the way she would grin was ingrained now, she could often feel it building on her face as she stepped up onto the porch and fished in her bag for her ring of keys. And the way her heart would race when she finally opened the door… Oh, what heaven it all was. Now in the wake of the first kiss Angel would find it all to feel even better, for when she walked into the foyer that evening and found him waiting for her, it took everything she had not to simply leap into his arms.She knew she couldn’t. No, the mood simply wasn’t right for such things. He’d set a tone for their next encounter with just his disposition alone, and Angel knew better than to upset that. When it came to their meetings, Angel was often inclined to let Pennywise take the reins and lead the way. It didn’t bother her; she liked being able to let go and let him take her wherever he pleased. It was freeing in a way, and she’d always been a rather submissive girl from the get-go. Luckily Pennywise was a perfectly dominant yin to match her yang.

“...Hello, my pet.” He had purred from the darkness of the unlit living room.

Angel sets her bag down with a coy smile. “Pennywise?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He’s hunched over ever so slightly on the couch, one hand slung casually over his knee. He beckons to her with the other with a crooked finger and a “come hither” motion. His eyes glint a sultry orange in the shadows. “Come here.”

She swallows, a million wanton thoughts racing through her head as she processes the sight of him there. She knows what might be coming and she can’t wait for it but she forces herself to be still nonetheless. She pauses at the coffee table and he chastises her gently.

“Don’t keep me waiting, little one. I said come here. ”

She paces herself as she steps closer, gulping again. He smiles up at her, patting his lap.

“Sit.”

He lounges back on the couch and holds out his hand, and she takes it before nervously taking a seat on his knee.

“Mmm, good girl , but I’d rather you get more comfortable than that. Pennywise wants you here. ”

“Pennywise, I-”

One gentle but forceful tug and she falls directly into his lap, her head crashing into his chest. She yelps.

“Now,” he says, his voice even and soothing. “Turn around and face me, sweetness.” After a beat, he adds. “I won’t tell you twice.”

Her heart is racing but she forces herself to stay calm and collected. She moves slowly, sitting up in his lap. On her knees, she pivots until she faces him, and then she very carefully starts to straddle him. He appears pleased, growling in pleasure at her obedience, but he is not entirely satisfied. He places large and imposing hands at her hips and repositions her, pulling her closer until she’s pressed up against his midsection.

“There. That’s better, now, isn’t it?” He whispers.

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” She asks shyly.

“You’re light as a feather, my dear.” A few reassuring strokes of the thigh and she shivers. She’s so flush against him that their pelvises are almost aligned, and the position makes Angel’s face hot. She rests her arms around his neck and looks up at him.

“So… How was your day?” He asks, his eyes never leaving hers.

“G-Good. Painless, actually.” She admits. “Although I felt a little bird-brained today. Couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything.” She pauses. “...Wonder whose fault that is.”

“Sorry, my dear.” He grins mischievously. “You know I like to watch you squirm.”

She frowns at him. “Yeah, well, I wish you wouldn’t do it when I’ve got people to talk to. You know you made me freeze up in front of like three guests today?” He chuckles.

“Mmmm, if anything that is your fault.” He says, playfully poking a finger in her chest. “You’re simply much too cute when I pester you.”

“It’s not cute for me.” She pouts. “I just end up looking like an idiot.”

“Yes, well, you’re my idiot, sweetness.”

She gives him an inappropriate look that quickly dissolves into amusement.

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

“ That’s my girl.” He beams. “Under the… Circumstances, though, I think you did an excellent job as always.”

She blushes. “You think so?”

“Why, of course, dear. That uptight librarian, she’s got absolutely no sense of humor or style, she’s joyless and stiff as a board. Now you, you handle all your duties with such grace and aplomb, you’ve got a certain… A certain flair to you. I’ve seen the way you walk when no one’s looking, like you’re on a runway.”

Her face is even redder now. “Yeah, well, I… That’s how I used to treat school, kind of like a fashion show. Hell, during marching season I would bring an extra outfit to change into after first hour every day. Goes to show you how dedicated I was to being a social outcast I guess.”

He’s solemn. “Those children were fools. They couldn’t understand you so they didn’t appreciate you.”

“Kids are harsh.” She shrugs, but she’s shaking out of habit. “I don’t… Typically get along with them. Well, except for the Losers, I guess.” She notes, and Pennywise has to stifle a frown. “I didn’t get along with them when I was their age, and I get along with them even less now.”

“Ever wanted one of your own?” He asks innocently.

She seems caught off guard by the question. “Oh, I uh… I guess I always grew up wanting them, you know, like the “get married and have kids” thing… I always wanted that, hopeless romantic that I am, but now I’m not so sure. With all my problems I don’t think I’d make a very good mother.”

He leans in with a smile. “...I think you’d make an excellent mother.”

She’s silent, and that familiar word washes over into her brain again, seemingly from out of nowhere. Mate. It makes her face flare up again with heat and she can’t seem to summon any more words. Pennywise seems to catch on to this and he cups her cheek gently, almost as if to draw some of the warmth out through the silk.

“But no need to think about all that right now, darling. For now, let’s just think about this.” He leans down and takes her lips in a deep kiss and, suddenly, Angel feels all the thoughts drain out of her head. He doesn’t give her a chance to think or process anything, he’s simply breathing ideas of his own into her, corrupting her with such delicious empyrean sensation. She is enslaved by his intentions, caught up in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, like an illusory traveling carnival fragrant with the scent of fresh popcorn and candy apples and he savors the taste of her reckless desire, mouthwateringly sweet and succulent to his ancient, otherworldly palate. All it takes is a few seconds before she loses herself to him completely, the room around them fading into blissful static as they give themselves to each other in all totality. She parts her lips to allow him access and he hungrily takes advantage, cupping both cheeks in gentle hands as she moves in closer on his lap. Her trembling hands trail up from the nape of his neck to his hair and finger delicately through the fiery curls rooted there, the only thing keeping her anchored to reality. His lips are warm and tender and he’s unremitting, persistent; like they’re simply attached at the mouth and he never intends on letting her go. His tongue is long and sinuous against hers, they mingle together naturally like two coiling snakes and the mutual lust settles over them like a heaven-sent perfume, lingering as they kissed each other endlessly. It seems as though ages pass there in each other’s arms, there in a place where the passage of time simply didn’t matter and Angel is melting, she’s dissolving into something incapable of rational thought or reason. She seeks his luscious, red lips with a hunger of her own, a desperate plea for this to never end, for this feeling to carry her into eternity.

But eternity was not within arm’s reach yet. After what felt like years between them passed in the throes of inescapable desire, they finally broke away from each other; Pennywise held her there in his lap and Angel sleepily traced circles in the silk on his chest for the duration of the evening. She hadn’t thought of much else and the night passed without any incident. No thoughts of what he had done, what she had yet to cope with. Only the sight of his face, the scent of his breath, the taste of his lips. When she’d gone to work the next morning, the only process in her mind consisted of that of their relationship and how it had progressed; where it had begun and where it was going, where they might go together. Still in the lingering grip of his gentle hypnosis, Angel had passed the hours oblivious to the implications of his actions, and whenever the thought of the days previous had crossed her mind, all she could think in her lovesick haze was that Pennywise had protected her from those mean and vicious boys. The how of it simply didn’t matter, and she couldn’t remember it anyway. All she could seem to remember was that feeling of being small and defenseless, terrified down there in the archives, and Pennywise had been there to comfort her, he’d kept her safe. And that was all that mattered, the rest of it simply minute details that she didn’t care enough to recall.

As time progressed, however, Angel was slowly starting to remember whether she wanted to or not. In the day following, the haze was slowly dissipating ever so slightly, enough that she could remember something vague, something jarring and monstrous. She couldn’t remember when, or where, but she could remember the way she’d felt when she saw it, the way her mouth had fallen agape and she’s been frozen to the spot in abject horror at the sight of it. It had started when she was cataloguing returns that day; she’d been walking up and down the rows, placing titles back in their preordained spot on the shelves when she suddenly had a flash of memory. It was something small that had triggered it, the sound of laughter from children behind her or the insistent squeak of the cart’s wheel, but when it had hit she suddenly found her eyes welling up with tears, she’d felt her chest grow tight and her breathing grow short. She had to stop herself from having a fit right there in the middle of the library, had to keep from shrieking out in terror when the sequence of events stampeded through her mind in rapid fire from out of nowhere. There was only one thing that saved her, an insistent thought intruding amid the chaos, something calm and soothing that gave her pulse rest somehow.

It was necessary. It was the only way.

And she’d been fine. She’d almost completely forgotten, right then and there. Angel had continued in her duties, almost as though the rememberence had never occurred in the first place. Pennywise had been pleased to witness this willingness to forget, her desperation to deny what he had done and rationalize it in any way she could. He knew her to be far too helpless in regards to her love and infatuation, that the rose-colored lens strapped firmly to her eyes would keep her from viewing any of this with rationality. Though she was surely horrified by the revelation of who he was, he knew she would come around out of loyalty for, after all, how could she spurn that which was so kind and gentle and loving to her? Angel was loyal to a fault, he knew that; it was reciprocal to his own sense of dedication, at least in regards to her. That’s another reason he had known she was made for him; once she had been won over, she would not falter in her devotion. She would choose him over everyone and everything, even her own family. Even those brat children. And why? Because he would shower her in more attention and adoration than anything else on this sorry little planet ever had before. He would give her what she had never been given, a sense of true purpose in the world. They would co-exist, completely lost in their love for one another, and nothing else would ever matter.

As the days in the week continued, she was remembering more and more. It was beginning to hurt her, and the worst part was, she couldn’t tell Pennywise what was wrong. The stupor was dwindling into nothing like anesthesia wearing off on a surgery patient, and all that was being left behind was the pain, the soreness, the swelling on the healing wounds. Pennywise had continued to distract her with love and affection but that wasn’t enough to qwell the increasing sense of dread that was starting to descend over her like a looming storm cloud. And Pennywise was not oblivious, he was more than aware of the taste of the her mind, the way she was finally starting to connect dots and though he was worried, for her and for himself, he tried to keep composure, knew that if he didn’t approach this with the utmost of care he would risk terrifying her beyond all consolation. He didn’t want that, didn’t want to have to do things the hard way, to take her against her will under the unforgiving snare of the screaming deadlights and break her mind completely and utterly. He would, but he didn’t want to. He liked her better this way, alive with a bright and lovely mind free of eternal tampering. Though he would shape her thoughts to reflect his own desires, he still wanted her, at the end of the day, to be herself. That was important to him.

So that is why he watched her with careful consideration as she slowly started to recall the events of that fateful day, watched as she silently stewed with something awful and uncomfortable, neglecting to speak with him honestly out of fear of confirming her own suspicions. He watched as she gave herself to his meddling, wanting to distract herself from facing the awful truth, and watched as she worked not to upset herself while they engaged in more amorous activities together. Pennywise took this opportunity to up his affection; now that kissing was on the table, he wanted to kiss all the time. He would greet her with a kiss as she came in the front door after work, he would give her quick pecks in between natural pauses in their conversations, he would emphasize to her now more than ever that he was the thing keeping her on her feet, the thing keeping her from sliding back into familiar and devastating depression. Angel found herself susceptible to these manipulations, as even with the creeping wariness in her mind she was still very much comforted by all his attention somehow, the feelings all too ingrained at this point to dismiss or reject. She would forget her misgivings the second those lips brushed against hers, would forget that sense of mortification she’d felt when she’d walked down the archive steps and set eyes on that ghoulish visage in front of her, the churning in her gut as she processed it all. And she would forget the sneaking, niggling thoughts in her brain, her reflection on everything she’d heard and seen, the pieces of the puzzle she was so close to putting together. But not forever.

They’d been together in Angel’s bed one evening. The weekend had come after the long work week of before and she had woken up to the sight of him there with her under the covers, warm amber eyes peeking at her from underneath the shadows of the comforter. He’d greeted her with a kiss, one long and indulgent and she’d come away dizzy, like she were simply a whirligig sent reeling by the spin of his expert, gloved fingers. He’d promised to stay with her from the start of the day to finish and she’d remembered feeling at ease by the assurance, finding that now more than ever, she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. They’d spent the day in listless decadence; they’d laid together in bed for a time, Angel had gotten up to make food, Pennywise had followed and kept her company as she ate. They watched TV, they danced together; Pennywise had offered to model for her art but Angel found herself refusing for some reason, citing that she wasn’t in the mood to draw that particular day. Pennywise had obliged with her declination and simply moved on. As the afternoon became evening Angel had made dinner and gave some to Pennywise to sample; she had become vaguely faint as she watched him eat it, swearing to herself that she caught a glimpse of razor fangs as he eagerly swallowed it down. She tried to just forget it. When her eyes had gotten the slightest bit heavy she asked him to accompany her to bed, thinking that if he stayed with her until she fell asleep she wouldn’t think about it until the next day.

As they laid together in the warmth of her bed, Angel let herself get swept up in the angelic sensation of his touch, in the way he would suck ever so gently on her earlobe, kiss her neck; the way he would drum his fingers at her hip ever so slightly to indicate his desire. The way that hand would travel ever so slightly inward toward the mound between her legs, venturing close but never fully exploring her, simply leaving thoughts, implications. The way he whispered in her ear, his voice a delicious, lilting lullaby that numbed the senses and left her wanting more from him. This… Nighttime ritual between them had existed for quite some time, but it had taken a new turn ever since that first kiss, ever since new ground had been established between them. Pennywise had taken on a pattern of predatory behavior that would have Angel’s heart racing. If the time came when the tension between them was at a head and he could not wait any longer for her he would simply push her onto her back and climb over her like a pale, painted spider. He would corner her, would look in her eyes and bask in the familiar taste of her wanton desire, the adrenaline in her veins, and then he would dip down and seek her lips with a dominance that made her squirm helplessly in his arms. They had been spending the better part of an hour like this every night that week, simply lost in the perfume of their mutual longing, sharing in each other’s breath as they kissed. It was bliss, and it made her forget. But not forever.

They had been like this that night. Pennywise had been the instigator as almost always; he had waited for a time where there was only silence in yearning between the two of them and then he had made his move, rolling her onto her back so he could hungrily take his conquest. Angel wouldn’t be able to stifle a giggle, nervous and demure as he did so, and she would instinctively part her lips to grant him access, giving herself to him and the intimacy of their mutual encounter. And she would moan and mewl into his mouth, and those whines of pleasure would bubble into laughter in her throat when he would leave a tickling trail up the side of her neck with his tongue. He would grin into her skin as he did so, because the sound of her laughing into his mouth was a feeling unlike anything else in the world. He intended to savor every second of it. They’d been caught in that whirlwind together, giving and taking from one another in the slippery banter of their questing tongues, the delirious, swimming ecstasy of it all descending over them like a tempest of purest sensation. There in each other’s arms it had all been perfect, nothing could touch Angel now as she fled up the staircase to seraphic elation, at the light above that beckoned to her.

But then, as Pennywise trilled and growled into her mouth, that feeling had begun to stir in her stomach again. Everything she’d been pushing away, everything she’d been ignoring, it was all starting to pool around her feet like a trickling sea of ink, rising and advancing up the skin of her legs until, at last, the lucid part of her brain had finally started to notice it. She tries so hard to disregard it, she wants to banish it from her thoughts, because now felt so good, she didn’t want it to end. She pulls him down into her as she kisses him earnestly, gasping for breath in between each interlude, trying her best to relish and enjoy the tactual sensation of his tongue rolling against hers. But then she notices the reptilian qualities of the muscle plundering her mouth and she remembers, recalls the darkness of the archives, the horrific vision of a long, tortuous thing snaking out of the creature’s great maw to lick and taste the red dripping from its jowls. As Pennywise bent over her and took her head in the strong security of his hands she remembered how she had felt when she saw it, small and afraid and, in that moment, terrified for her life. She remembers flickering thoughts of everything; the unease within the town, all the continued disappearances… She remembers Patrick, she remembers the shopkeeper, and then those giggles turn into gurgling, ugly sobs. Pennywise stops, he pulls back. There’s tears in her eyes, and she’s cowering into her hands. The concern in his voice is genuine.

“What’s wrong, my sweet?”

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter seventeen #burst #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #good fortune

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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Drabble: Cut Scenes (baon)

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Past Injury, Lemony Goodness

Notes:

So, this scene was cut from Bedside Stories: Chapter 3 because I didn't want to up the rating on the story.

But for your viewing pleasure, I bring you the cut sexytimes scene, because y'all deserve it. 😘

That means warning, sexytimes ahead!!

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

“comfortable? in any pain?” For once he wasn’t going to fuss about the pain meds.

“Yes and no, in that order."

“great.” And without preamble, Stretch pulled his sweatshirt over his head, then pushed his track pants down to puddle at his feet. Didn’t bother to try for seductive, there wasn’t much need, anyway. Edge was usually seduced by him breathing, proved it by staring with wide sockets as Stretch sauntered over. “think you could use a distraction, don’t you?”

“I...yes. Yes.” The word shifted closer to a moan as Stretch straddled him, and he could say with a good amount of smug pride that very soon, Edge was pretty damn distracted.

~~*~~

Stretch settled into Edge’s lap, trying to keep most of his weight on his knees. Yeah, seemed to him that what they both needed was a good old-fashioned distraction, something better than shitty television reports and papers full of bad news. He ducked his head to take a quick kiss, murmuring into Edge’s mouth, “let me?”

“Yes,” Edge groaned out. Stretch tutted when he made to get with the grabby hands, lightly pressing them back down. This was his turn to play and he was only getting started. He stroked over the long, flat bones of Edge’s ribs, teasing along his sternum, fondling his way down his spine to lingering on soft, sensitive cartilage. So easy to get worked up, his baby, already breathing heavily as Stretch’s hands ventured lower. The shorts Edge was wearing might not be the cutting edge (heh) of fashion, but in Stretch’s opinion, they more than made up for it by being easy access. He slipped a hand in the waistband, briefly tracing the curves and angles of Edge’s pelvis, but drawing this out wasn’t supposed to be the point. Distractions, that was where this was going and at his encouraging touch the hot swirl of magic in Edge’s pelvic cradle solidified, forming into his cock.

“looks like you’re up for a little something something,” Stretch teased. Whatever Edge might’ve said dissolved into a groan as Stretch gave the shaft a firm stroke. Slickness was already beading at the head and Stretch rubbed this thumb through it, felt Edge shiver at the slippery little touch.

See, the thing was, Stretch didn’t get to drive very often. Not that he was complaining, hell, no, if his baby wanted to channel his control issues into orgasms, that was fine by him. All it meant was Stretch liked to take advantage of it when he could. Like now.

His own magic was easy to form, eager to get the party started; this might be for Edge, but it didn’t mean Stretch wasn’t horny as all hell. Wasn't like they’d been able to get busy at the hospital. Even if Edge’s room hadn’t been a revolving door for docs and nurses, the stink of pain-sweat wasn’t exactly a turn on. Not like here where all Stretch could smell was the spicy-sweetness of their combined magic, thickly heady if he ignored the faint tinge of spilled tomato soup.

Stretch shuffled forward a little further on his knees, holding Edge’s shaft steady as he rose up and guided it inside as he sank back down, sighing as the hard length filled him. It was an easy glide, both of them wet and ready, and fuck, he never got tired of this, never, the way Edge’s cock stretched his walls felt so fucking good, settling deep inside him.

Trembling hands came to rest on Stretch's hip bones and this time he let them, let those soft gloves smooth over the curves of his iliac crests with uncommon gentleness. Not that Edge was ever exactly rough during sex, but this was softer than his usual. Edge didn’t treat him like spun glass or anything, but Stretch wasn’t stupid. Even when he was coming, Edge never really lost control. That was okay; Stretch got it, his HP was low, so what. Edge wasn’t gonna get off if he was too busy worrying about hurting him, so let him have his control.

Well, most of the time.

Stretch gave a leisurely roll of his hips and the ragged sound Edge made was fucking luscious, low and gravely, ripe with need.

“no, no,” Stretch scolded when Edge tried to hurry him, resisting the hands that took the chance to urge him on. “this is my turn to take care of you.”

“This isn’t care, you’re killing me,” Edge groaned. His sockets were clenched shut, his whole face tight with strain.

“think so?” Stretch rose up on his knees, so slowly, until just the tip of the shaft was still inside him. “be a lovely way to die.” Better than a few others Stretch didn't want to think of.

He sank back down hard enough for their bones to clack and Edge jerked, crying out.

“don’t move that leg, babe, i’d hate to stop,” Stretch said, sing-song sweet. Edge’s sockets slit open, the bare rim of crimson brightness showing. Stretch moved again, watched it crackle in Edge’s eye lights, but this time there was only a faint quiver, their pelvic bones chattering softly together, “there you go,” Stretch crooned, rolling his hips in a nice, easy movement. “let me do all the work this time, pretty.”

He managed to make it last longer than it had any right to, every slow, sinuous glide dragging out pleading that in turn became desperate gasps. The sound Edge made when he finally came was from so deep inside, Stretch swore he could feel the vibration of it in his own soul.

Even as Edge was shaking with his own pleasure, his gloved fingers slipped between them, down where they were still joined. Their movements were pleasure-clumsy as they rubbed Stretch’s clit but that was all he needed. His own whimpers were caught in his throat, smothered by Edge’s mouth suddenly against his and, oh, fuck, yeah, he’d needed that. Sex, sure, the sex was great, but more than that, he needed Edge looking sweaty and sated, sockets languidly hooded and on the verge of dropping off.

Usually zonking out after sex was Stretch’s job, but Edge looked like he was about to get some impromptu work experience. Stretch managed to get him rearranged on the sofa before he fell asleep, which was a good thing because Edge was too damned heavy to be dragging around, even without the cast.

Soon enough he was sound asleep, sockets closed, the blanket rising and falling with each breath. Yep, that was a distraction well done.

But now Stretch had another job to do, one he’d decided on right around the time he’d come to the conclusion that stripping in their living room was a brilliant life choice. He left Edge on the sofa and headed upstairs to wash up a little bit and to change into some fresh clothes. If his baby was gonna sleep for a while, there was time for him to head out for a while, down to the Embassy for a visit.

He had a favor to ask.

-fin

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name #lemony goodness

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runaway-horses · 5 years ago

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Shelter Me (In Your Arms)

Ship: Logince

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, PTSD, general trauma (Ro makes it better though.)

Word Count: 1,553

Tags: @pippippippin, @a-cure-for-sentience, @stormcrawler75, @princeyssash, @quoth-the-sparrow, @theresneverenoughfandoms, @red-eyes88 (If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know!)

A/N: It has been a Hot Minute since I lasted posted, damn. On the brightside, I haven’t posted anything because school is hard but I’m studying harder, and I’m also in the process of writing a novel. So I have reasons. This is set in the same AU as Wait For Me (I’m Coming) and is set seven or so months after that. I did promise more in this AU! I hope you enjoy.

~~~

It is dark in the bed chamber.

It shouldn't be dark, Logan realizes, and he tries to swallow the panic that rises in his chest when he realizes that he can't see anything. In the months since his return, Roman has left a candle burning in their room every night, never once complaining about having his rest disturbed by the light.

But the candle is out now, and there is nothing but inky darkness around him. Logan reaches out on the bed for Roman. He's sure he'll be able to fight this panic down in Roman's arms, but his hand meets cold sheets instead of a warm body.

Fear grips him, stronger than before.

"Roman?" He calls and hears his voice crack on the second syllable. There's no response and Logan strains his eyes in an attempt to discern something through the dark.

Logan feels his breath get stuck in his chest and ice fill his veins.

He tries to remember the rhythm of breath he used to guide Virgil through, but focus slips out of his hands like water. The terror of the unknown presses in around him- are they coming to take him? To hit him? To find new ways to apply pain and pull secrets from his bloodied lips? Did he ever even leave that cave?

The last thought made Logan whimper involuntarily, terror at going back to that hell seizing his muscles.

Through his turmoil, he heard the door creak.

He jerked his head up and saw a figure outlined in the doorway, illuminated by torchlight from the hallway. For one brief, shining moment, he thought it was Roman. But doubt creeped in as the figure continued to stand there. Roman would not linger like that, not when Logan was curled into a ball in the middle of their shared bed.

He scrambled away, his legs tangled in the blankets.

"No, no go away!"

The figure stepped forward, its presence looming larger. Logan flinched and tried to extricate himself from the blankets. The figure stepped closer to the bed and Logan wondered how he had thought this was Roman, this creature with its terrifying energy.

It leaned forward and a hand shot out to grip Logan's arm, nails digging into his skin. He struggled against it, adrenaline breaking through the fear.

"We've got you now, Clarke. You're not getting away from us this time."

The voice of the person who had taunted him as they whipped his back echoed in the room. Logan could feel phantom pain on his back, the skin tearing open, and his heart thudded to a stop in his chest as he realized that he would have to relieve the horror again.

Logan screamed.

~~~

Logan jerked upright in bed, a scream burning his throat as he scrambled out of bed and hit the floor. There was noise all around him, and it took him a moment to realize that he was the source of it. He clamped a hand over his mouth and sobbed. His face was wet with tears, and through his trembling a faint note of relief struck his mind. It was just a dream. He pulled his knees to his chest and shook, drawing in gasping breaths.

“Logan?”

A voice in front of him. Concern laced in it.

“Logan, can you hear me? You’re okay, dearest, I’m here, it was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Roman.

Logan opened his eyes and was met with the sight of his lover kneeled in front of him, hands at his sides, concern written in every line of his face. Candle-light flickered across his features and the knot in Logan’s chest loosened in the warm glow. His surroundings were coming back into focus and careful scan of the room confirmed that they were alone. It was just Roman and himself.

“Lo? Please, you’re scaring me. Can I touch you?”

Logan’s gaze darted back to Roman and he tried to fight back the fear clouding his mind. Roman has asked him a question. He needed to answer. The words were stuck in his throat. He registered that he was shaking and felt shame prickle at his skin that Roman was seeing him so completely undone.

Roman seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and he learned forward, taking Logan's hands in his own. He rubbed circles with his thumbs and held tight.

"I have you, love. Breathe with me, okay?"

He took an exaggerated breath in, blowing it out slowly. Logan tried to copy, but the task seemed monumentally difficult. He still felt exposed, as if someone could grab him and tear him away from Roman and back to that dark cave. Roman repeated the breath again and again, Logan failed. He was painfully aware of the space around him.

Roman squeezed his hands and momentarily held Logan's attention. There was rapidly growing concern in his eyes and Logan's heart ached that he was disappointing him.

"How can I help you, Logan? What do you need?"

What did he need?

He needed to feel safe. Like the world wasn't about to tumble down around him. He needed Roman to hold him.

Roman's arms were safety and love and warmth. Even before they had admitted mutual affection for each other, Logan had admired Roman's arms. They were tan and well muscled from hours spent training out in the sun. And then, in the months and eventual years after they had started courting, Roman's arms had taken on a new meaning for Logan. They were home.

He felt like he was shaking out of his skin and he scrambled forward into Roman's chest.

Roman wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. The warm bands of muscle held Logan together as he shook apart in Roman's arms, finally able to close his eyes and not feel the all encompassing terror of darkness. He could feel Roman's heartbeat from where he was pressed against him, and the steady rhythm helped him control his breath.

"I got you, love. It's okay, you're okay."

Roman smelled like parchment and sleep. Logan breathed deep as the last of his shakes faded away.

"Do you want to get back in bed?" Roman asked. His breath ghosted across Logan's ear and made him shiver. Logan nodded his affirmation and Roman scooped him up before depositing him on the bed. He kept his eyes open and watched Roman walk around the bed before he got in himself. Roman’s arms were back around him then, and Logan relaxed into the touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked, voice low and rumbling in his chest.

Logan licked his dry lips and fought the urge to break eye contact.

“I dreamt that the lights were out.” He begins, hesitant. He doesn’t usually talk about his dreams. “I was scared, and you were gone. And then there was this...figure...in the doorway, and I thought it was you but it wasn’t, it was them, and they told me that I was going to go back to that cave, that I’d never actually escape them...and then I woke up.” Logan didn’t realize that he was crying until a warm palm cupped his cheek and Roman’s thumb swiped away some of the tears. He leaned into the comfort, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re safe, my love. I won’t let anything happen to you, and I’d never leave you.” Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead and his free hand traveled over Logan’s shoulder and down onto his back, fingers tracing the scars there. Logan shifted away from the touch and Roman frowned, sitting up slightly.

“Do they hurt, Logan?” His tone was worried and Logan shook his head.

“No, they do not pain me. I just don’t like them. They’re ugly.”

Pain flashed over Roman’s face before disappearing.

“Logan, dearheart, nothing about you is ugly. These scars are marks of bravery higher than any medal I could give you. And more importantly, they’re part of you. I love you, trauma and all, scars and all.” And before Logan was even halfway through processing those words and the subsequent emotions that came with them, Roman was sitting up and rolling him onto his stomach.

“Clearly,” -His voice came from above Logan, with a smile Logan could hear, if not see- “I haven’t done a good enough job of showing you how beautiful you are.” And then lips were pressing against the sin of Logan’s shoulder, at the very top of one of the longer scars. Logan shivered from head to toe and didn’t protest as Roman’s lips traced the disfigured flesh from the top of his shoulder, down to the small of his back.

Logan couldn’t say how much time had passed since Roman first kissed him, but his limbs had melted into the bed and tears were wetting the pillow as Roman touched his lips to Logan’s other shoulder in one last, reverent kiss.

No words were said as he rolled over and buried his head in Roman’s chest, Roman’s fingers finding their way to his hair. Logan’s heart ached with love, and sometimes he wondered if there was no limit to the love he felt for Roman. Somehow the thought didn’t frighten him.

He fell asleep easily, Roman’s arms still around him.

He was home.

#love athena #athena writes #hurt/comfort #nightmares #logince

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shapeshiftersandfire · 5 years ago

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until i fall asleep.

prompt: nightmares fandom: scary stories to tell in the dark characters: roy nicholls, sarah bellows cw: referenced/mentioned child abuse requested by @ssttitdramon and @four-foot-eleven

Roy often returns home in the early hours of the morning, long after Stella and Sarah have gone to sleep. When he pulls in the driveway, the house is dark, save for the lamp light shining through the window of Sarah’s room. These days, it’s the only light he knows will be on. Sarah never sleeps in the dark. And after all she’s told him, it’s no wonder why.

His first order of business is, as always, to check in on Stella and Sarah when he gets in the house. He leaves his bag and work boots by the door, shakes out his wings, makes his way upstairs. Sarah’s room is the first on the right. Lamp light leaks into the hallway from the cracked door. She never sleeps with the door fully locked, either. As he makes his way toward her room, he expects to find the young swan curled under her blankets, with only the top of her head poking out from underneath. But instead, as he nears her door, he hears the rustle of sheets and a low whine.

“Sarah?”

A knock on the door gets no answer. Only more nondescript mumbling and whimpering and the rustling of sheets and wings.

Roy knocks again, still with no answer, before he gently pushes the door opened and pokes his head in. “Sarah?”

The young swan rolls onto her back as Roy looks into the room, wings jerking, mumbling incoherently. She doesn’t react to Roy coming into the room, or the squeak of the door as he opens it and shuts it gently behind him. Her knee jerks up, her face twists, Roy swears he catches a tear running from the corner of her eye.

“Sarah?” He sits down at the edge of the bed, far enough that he doesn’t sit on her, yet close enough that he could reach over and gently shake her awake if he had to. She doesn’t react as he sits, but her distress worsens as he watches her. Her face twists with fear and pain, she lets out little fearful sounds, kicking out at Roy, gasping for breath.

“No, no,” she mumbles. “No, please, please—”

“Sarah?” Roy gulps. He’s never seen her like this, awake or asleep. Not once in the entire time he’s known Sarah has he ever seen her this distressed, this…scared. He’s seen her nervous and suspicious, but this…this is something else entirely. This is something in his daughter’s nightmares coming after her, terrorizing her. “Sarah.”

Sarah doesn’t hear him. She shakes her head, mumbling again. Roy thinks he hears more of the same, “no, no, no, please,” or maybe it’s his ears playing tricks on him, but he knows he hears one thing for certain: “Ephraim.”

Ephraim?

Only one Ephraim had ever lived in Mill Valley, he knows that. Her own brother? He’s heard so little about what had actually happened in the Bellows house, but has managed to piece together his own conclusions based on the little bit Sarah told him: they kept her locked up somewhere dark and underground because of her condition, hence her fear of locked doors and her fear of the dark.

“Ephraim,” Sarah says again, just as clear. And then she starts crying, she jerks in her sleep, her breath becomes choked with tears, cut by thin whimpers and whines. Her thrashing becomes worse, more desperate, her whimpering becomes more pained; she jerks, curling into a ball, but still she twitches as though someone hits her, mumbling all the while, and Roy catches another word, semi-clear, one that sounds like Harold.

Her brothers. She’s having a nightmare about her brothers.

“Sarah?” Roy tries shaking her, but touching only seems to make her nightmare worse. She flails against him, pushing him away; he tries shaking her away again— “Sarah, wake up! Sarah—”

And then with a flare of wings and a flash of white feathers, Sarah shoots up in bed, pressing herself up against the headboard, curled in on herself. Her eyes are wide and glazed over—Roy’s not even sure she’s aware of where she is or what’s going on—her breathing is harsh and ragged, each one looks like an effort—her chest heaves, her shoulders move each time she takes a breath—and even then, as she takes in as much air as she can, she still can’t get enough. Every few breaths she’s cut off, choking, and then gasps for air again.

Roy’s wings flare as he backs away and sits down, he’s never seen Sarah like this before, he’s never seen her have a nightmare this bad—

“Sarah? Sarah, what’s wrong? Sarah, can you hear me?”

Sarah doesn’t answer. She stares at nothing, squeezes her eyes shut, hunches over a little more with a groan. “Hurts,” she whimpers. “Hurts.”

“What hurts, sweetie? What’s wrong?” Roy debates going to get Stella, her room isn’t that far away, but he doesn’t want to leave Sarah, not like this.

Sarah hugs herself tighter, eyes glazed over. “Hurts,” she says again, with new tears, a cough, and a shiver of pain, “it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—”

“Tell me what hurts, Sarah. Tell me where it hurts.”

Sarah stares down at nothing, cringing, shivering in pain. Her breathing is harsh, ragged. “Hurts,” she says, wings fluffed. “Hurts.”

“Where does it hurt, Sarah?” From where Roy sits, he can’t tell that there’s something immediately wrong with her, there’s no evident bruising or red marks. But Sarah’s clearly in pain, somewhere Roy can’t see, somewhere less evident. He doesn’t get any clear answers from Sarah herself, either, as she sits huddled against the headboard, whimpering, muttering “hurts, hurts, hurts,” again and again and again.

Roy looks into her eyes, unfocused and dull. She doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s even sitting there, no matter how much he tries to talk to her. Pain clouds her eyes, she flinches at something, either the hurt or something else, something still lurking at the edges of her nightmare. She’s not fully asleep, but she’s not fully awake, either. She’s somewhere in between where the monsters haunting her in her sleep can still hurt her.

She needs to wake up.

“Sarah,” Roy says gently, “Sarah, I need you to wake up.” He gently pushes on the bed near Sarah, careful not to touch her. She whimpers, curling in tighter on herself.

“Sarah,” he tries again, pushing on the bed again, “Sarah, sweetie, wake up. You have to wake up for me, okay? Sarah? Can you wake up for me?”

This time, Sarah blinks, the glaze in her eyes vanishes, her breathing eases. The iron grip she has on her own arms goes slack, leaving behind faint nail imprints in her shirt. She looks up at Roy with confusion, blinking away the last few tears in her eyes. “Dad?” She sniffs, swallows, looks around the room. “W-where—” she gulps again “—is this real?”

“Yes, sweetie,” Roy says gently. “It’s real. You’re safe.”

“I’m safe,” Sarah repeats, as though she’s trying to convince herself of it. She closes her eyes. Deep breath in, slow breath out. Deep breath in, slow breath out. And she does it again, until her breathing doesn’t shake and her wings have deflated. “I’m safe.” Then she opens her eyes, still hugging herself, still huddled against the headboard, not bothering to wipe the tears away.

Roy sits and waits for Sarah to say he can touch her. Quick, sudden movements scare her, he’s seen her flinch when he’s turned around too quickly, or when he raised his hand to reach something off a high shelf while she was near. Each time, she’s had a reaction much like what he sees know, where she hugs herself and turns away, wings raised, bracing herself for a blow. She’s never told Roy what her family did to her, outside of her need for the night-light, but the few times he’s accidentally caused her to flinch away says more than enough.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Hmm?” Sarah blinks, confused, then blinks again and shuffles her wings. “Oh. No. Not so much now. It-it’s going away. I’ll be okay.” She tucks her head in against the coolness of the headboard with a sigh. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Roy says softly. “Okay.” He leans back to give Sarah room, wishing he could draw her into a hug right then and there. Wishing he could hug away whatever pain that monster of a brother Ephraim Bellows put his own sister through.

(He’d heard the stories about Sarah Bellows, about the monster she supposedly was, but he’d never paid much attention one way or the other. Now that the local legend herself was living in his house, currently curled up against the headboard after a nightmare, Roy knows nothing in the legends happened the way every says they did.)

He doesn’t say anything more, letting Sarah have all the time she needs to reorient herself. He tries not to stare at her while she gets settled, instead trying to focus on the night-light plugged into the wall and not the way his daughter’s wings go through a pattern of fluffing and flattening until her feathers finally lay flat, or the way she almost nods off again, but the lingering memories of her nightmare wake her up again.

(Or the way she said her brother’s name, or the way she cried in her sleep—Roy has never seen Sarah cry.)

Oh, Sarah. She’s only eighteen, barely a year older than Stella, and already she’s gone through more in her short life on this planet than anyone her age ever should.

Sarah takes on deep breath, then another, rubbing her arms, and looks up at Roy. “Dad?” she asks slowly. “Can I have a hug?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, Sarah. Come here.”

Sarah gingerly unfolds herself and shuffles away from the headboard, slowly, as though part of her is still in pain, and scoots along the edge of the bed until she’s able to lean herself against Roy’s shoulder. She curls up there instead, tucking her head under Roy’s chin.

Roy holds her gently, unsure if he’s accidentally going to touch something that still hurts. But when he wraps his around around Sarah, closes his wing around her, she gives no indication that he’s hurting her. “Does it still hurt?” He watches his small daughter shift gingerly and test her wings before she sighs.

“Not anymore.”

Not anymore. There’s more weight to those words than she’ll say, but Roy can hear it with every syllable. He takes the chance and holds Sarah just a little tighter, watching her carefully for any sign he’s hurting her. Instead, she huddles closer, tucking her wings against her back, pulling her knees closer to herself.

Roy runs his hand over her head, mindful of her hair. She doesn’t seem to mind this, but Roy knows Sarah doesn’t like people touching her hair where it starts to fall away from her head; he hasn’t seen it himself but Stella had warned him about being careful with Sarah’s hair, she doesn’t like having it pulled, even in the slightest. He can only imagine why.

(What and when Sarah chooses to tell him more is entirely up to her. He’s not going to force her to divulge information she doesn’t want to share.)

He kisses the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sarah shrugs one shoulder. “Not really,” she says, but runs her thumb over the button of Roy’s overalls with a deep frown and chew at her bottom lip. After a moment, she says slowly, “It was about my—my brothers. They…they liked to hurt me.”

Roy’s heart aches; he holds Sarah closer, wishing he could protect her from the monsters that have already put their hands on her. Her own brothers… He’d grown up with two sisters, neither of whom lived in Pennsylvania, but he couldn’t imagine hurting either one of them, let alone finding any joy in it. What kind of family had the Bellows been? On the surface, they seemed well enough; he knew the town had raved about them back in the day, what with being responsible for putting Mill Valley on the map and all. But Sarah is living proof the Bellows were anything but. They were vile, inhumane, cruel, that they would ever do such a thing to their own daughter, whose condition is no fault of her own.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” he whispers, closing his wing tighter around her. “I promise you they’ll never hurt you again. No one ever will.”

Sarah hums. “Everyone’s promised they’ll punch everyone in my family.” She laughs a little, and even Roy finds himself smiling. Then her smile fades, and she looks up at him. “Dad? When I’m-when I’m ready to lay down again, will you…stay with me? Until I fall asleep?”

“Course, I will, sweetheart,” Roy says, gently rubbing Sarah’s shoulder. “You let me know when you’re ready. I’ll stay right here.”

#foundfamilybingo #sarah bellows #roy nicholls #scary stories to tell in the dark #ssttitd #swan song #child abuse cw

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daenerys1417 · 7 years ago

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Table 109 (Part 3 - conclusion)

(Warning: Mature/Smut)

(Read Part 1): Here

(Read Part 2): Here

She stands in front of the floor-length windows of her hotel suite, taking in the panoramic views of the Los Angeles skyline. She knows he’s watching her, she can feel his eyes burning into her. She spins around to look at him, a soft smile teasing her lips. His handsome face shows no expression, but the lust in his eyes is unmistakable. She enjoys this power she has over him and likewise he over her, how they can steal each other’s breath away with just one glance or whispered innuendo. They’ve been playing this game all night, unable to keep their eyes off one another or their hands away from each other – a fleeting touch here, an erotic brush there. It’s a dangerous game to play in front of hundreds of prying eyes and paparazzi at every turn, but they couldn’t stop it if they tried.

She slowly walks over to him, her stiletto heels echoing across the hardwood floor; dress rustling in the charged air between them as she bites her lower lip, looking at him seductively. He inhales sharply, his dark eyes tracking her until she is standing right in front of him, their lips only inches apart.

“What do you want?” she whispers, feeling a shiver run through him as she places a hand on his chest.

He wraps his arms around her, his hands pressed firmly against her ass as he pulls her flush to his body. She gasps when she feels his growing hardness against her. “You know exactly what I want,” he says, his voice a low deep rumble. He brushes a kiss across her mouth. “I’ve been waiting all fucking night for this.”

When he deepens the kiss, she can feel the desire vibrating within her, sizzling just beneath the surface of her skin. He’s kissing her like his life depends on it and it’s driving her crazy. A moan, his name, forms on her tongue as his lips feast on her neck and bare shoulders. Suddenly she feels his fingers dancing up her spine towards the zipper of her black evening gown. She never knew that the sound of a zip as it glides down her skin could be so enticing, yet so sensual. The silky material falls loosely around her and she can hardly hold back the sigh that escapes her as it caresses her body before drifting to the floor. She watches as his eyes meet hers and then travel the length of her body, feasting on her exposed breasts and lacy panties.

“You’re beautiful, Emilia.” He whispers in the heady, sensuous air that surrounds them as he slides his hand up to cup one of her breasts.

“Kit…” her voice is a murmur as his hand begins to move across her silky skin, touching and teasing the delicate flesh. His other hand moves up from where it rests on her stomach to cup her other breast, eliciting murmurs of pleasure from her lust swollen lips as his fingers dance lightly over her nipple. She closes her eyes to let the sensations wash over her. His lips are at her ear and his warm breath tickles her cheek.

“The things I want to do to you,” He whispers, his voice husky and erotic, “You have no idea how hard it was for me to sit through that awards show and all those stuffy parties tonight. Fuck…Em, you drive me insane.” His hands move away from her sensitive breasts and she whimpers at the loss of contact, only to have it turn into a gasp when his fingers settle on her most intimate part.

Her breath catches in her throat as his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties, tugging them off her hips, letting them fall to the floor, joining the pool of her beautiful black gown. His fingers return to his task and she brings her hand down from where it’s fisted in his dark curls to cup his cheek and draw his mouth towards hers. As their lips meet, his fingers dip into her center and she groans, the sound caught in his mouth as their tongues dance. One by one, he pushes two more fingers into her and she feels her knees growing weak. Her eyes slide shut and pleasure washes over her like a tidal wave.

“Kit!” she cries out, separating their mouths as the pleasure inside her builds to a climax and then releases. She collapses against his body, panting heavily as he withdraws his fingers. She realizes that he’s still wearing entirely too many clothes so she leads him over to the bed, pushing him down onto the soft coverlet. She watches his eyes light up as she straddles his waist, feeling the pool of lust in the pit of her stomach begin to build again. Bending down, she latches onto his mouth in a fiery kiss and deftly begins to slip his jacket off. Thankfully, he already removed his bow tie earlier in the evening and she’s free to begin the long descent down his shirt, her fingers trailing against his skin after each button gives way, revealing his smooth hairless chest. She bends her body down, so that the tips of her breasts brush against his chest and watch as his eyes take on a dangerous sheen.

“Em, you’re killing me. You know that?” He moans as she brushes her lips against his and then begins the task of unzipping his tuxedo slacks.

“I hope not.” She teases, “I’m only just getting started…” He grins at that, but then quickly lets out a groan as she inadvertently brushes the tent forming in his boxers. She busies herself pulling his slacks down his legs and then tosses them on the floor. She edges his boxers over his hips slowly, watching him as his eyes darken even more in desire. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips before taking him in her hand. The gasp that comes from his lips only fuels her lust as she moves her hand slowly up and down his thick length. Licking her lips to lubricate them, she bends her head down and takes him in her mouth. The ensuing moans from his lips make her shiver with satisfaction that she is able to undo his composure, just as he has done to her.

“Em…Emilia…stop…” he moans between panted breaths, not wanting her to bring him to the edge just yet. She looks up at him and cocks an eyebrow before releasing him. Lowering her head to press her lips against his again, she can barely contain her squeal of shock when he flips them over so that she’s on her back. He growls with desire.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” He whispers huskily through their ragged breathing, connecting their lips again, their tongues tangling together fervently.

“Kit, Kit…” she pants as he fastens his lips to her neck, “Kit…inside of me…now…. Please!” Chuckling slightly, he places his hands on her hips and holds them in place as his tip teases her entrance. She trembles in anticipation before he presses into her, the sensation causing them to moan together in ecstasy. Her eyes flutter shut as he begins to rock them gently and soon all she can hear are their ragged breaths and the sound of flesh on flesh as they collide.

“Fuck,” he groans into her neck, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper with each stroke. Her moans only get louder as he hits the sweet spot deep inside of her that sends waves of pleasure pulsating through her. She can feel her climax building as he picks up the pace, his hands clamped down on her hips as he pounds into her. He nips at her shoulder, peppering her with love bites and she feels herself going over the edge, her body seizing with pleasure as her screams fill the room.

He continues to thrust into her, a little harder than before as she rides out her orgasm. She knows that he won’t last much longer and she clenches around him as he starts to come deep inside of her. She can feel him spurting into her as he groans loudly. She milks every drop from him as he collapses on top of her, panting in exhaustion. Once he softens, he rolls off of her, nestling at her side as they slide under the sheets and begin to cuddle. A long time passes before either of them speaks.

“Em?” He finally says, breaking the silence as he plays with a strand of her platinum blonde hair.

“Yeah?” She responds, nuzzling into him, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

“Wanna go for round 2?” She can feel him grinning against her skin.

She doesn’t hesitate to answer him. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

They lock eyes and shake together with laughter before continuing to kiss, caress, and pleasure each other until the early morning light starts to creep across the sky.

Thanks so much everyone for reading this. Let me know if you’d like me to write more Kimilia stories!

#kimilia #kit x emilia #fanfic #smut #this turned into more than a drabble #only for the shippers #oh fuck yeah

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imagine-loki · 7 years ago

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I Summon Thee

TITLE: I Summon Thee

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: chris-venom

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine going to the library and finding a book dedicated to the God of Mischief. You accidentally get locked into the library overnight having been so caught up in the book. While reading the book, you come across a passage that catches your attention.

You read the passage aloud, unaware that it is actually a spell. Once you finish reading, a green and black mist beings to swirl and suddenly, standing before you is Loki in all his glory.

RATING: Teen (Swearing)

NOTES/WARNINGS: I know next to nothing about Norse mythology, so information the character reads in the book is purely based on my knowledge of the MCU Loki. Apologies if anyone is offended by this!

Shivers run down my back as I shuffle into the library, shaking the rain off of my body. A crack of thunder outside causes me to jump slightly and I pull my soaked jacket off, hanging it by the door on a coat rack. As I pass through the second set of doors, a couple familiar faces of volunteers and staff smile at me from their places by the shelves. I trek up the stairs to the second floor and a smile crosses my face when I see I’m the only one up here. I hum to myself quietly as I head towards the shelves, browsing titles.

After a few minutes of skimming my eyes over the titles, I come to the conclusion that I’m not in the mood for fantasy novels and look up at the labels defining which books belong in that respective section. A moment passes before my eyes draw towards Mythology. It’s been a while since I last read from this section, so I decide on it and walk over to it. As I skim titles, I grab a few that look interesting; one on Achilles, another on a variety of Roman gods, and my hand waivers over another title when I see the book next to it. It looks old, and dusty, as if it hasn’t been touched in years. I run my fingers along the black spine, carefully pulling it out.

I take in a deep breath and blow away the dust. The picture on the front seems to be a Nordic rune of some kind, and is inset with golden details wearing away with the time. The title isn’t on the front, so I open it and flip to the first page with words. The material feels a lot like parchment, taking me by surprise. When I find the title, I read it aloud.

“The God Of Mischief. Huh.” I say aloud. Short and concise. I don’t have to read the next page to know this book must be about Loki, judging by the symbol on the front, as well as the Norse writing above the title, which I assume is the title in its native tongue. I stand still for a long moment, studying the symbol on the front, before scooping up my other two books and carrying the three of them to my favorite bean bag chair at the back by the window.

Once I’m sitting and comfortable, I pull open the book on Achilles. I read the first chapter, barely comprehending the words, before I sigh and set it aside. The allure of the book on Loki is too much to bear. Unable to resist my temptation any longer, I scoop it up and crack it open carefully. I read about a boy growing into a man alongside his brother Thor. Enthralled by tales of valiant wars against rebels, Jotuns, trolls, and so many more mythical beings, I inevitably forget about the world around me.

Until I hear the clock tower outside chime. It jolts me out of my daze, the visualization of a battle by storm fading from my sight. I stand and stretch, figuring I’ve been here for a while, and start down the stairs with The God Of Mischief tucked under one arm. Once I get to the bottom of the stairs, confusion strikes me. There’s literally no one else here. I cautiously poke my head over the counter, looking for signs of life, and find nothing. The monitors on the computers are even off. It takes me longer than I’d care to admit for me to put two and two together and my heart sinks. I dash for the door, dropping the book as I do so, and tug on the handle. It won’t budge.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” I stammer, pulling on the handle a few more times before sinking to the floor, defeated. I pull my phone out of my pocket, dialing 911, but before I can hit call the screen blackens. My phone is dead. “Well, at least this can’t get any-” Before I can finish my sentence, The lights go out. the storm outside must be getting worse. The emergency lights come on and I groan, rubbing my temple. “Never say that again, Hazel. Never, EVER say that again.” I hiss to myself.

Once my heart rate has normalized and I’ve thought things out (the clock on the wall says it’s midnight, and the staff show up to get ready to open at 9, meaning I’ve only got nine hours here) I see the book laying on the floor, pages facing the ceiling. Immediately feeling guilty for mistreating such an old book, I scramble to pick it up and see the page it’s landed on. The letters are tinted with a green shimmer, as if they’re moving. Confused, I stand and study the page under the direct light of the emergency lights. It’s faded slightly, and difficult to read.

“The God Of Mischief, the…the horned god of…of black and green…” I say slowly, piecing together the words. “The one…the one of two…Odin…Odinson, Laufeyson…I…I summon thee, Loki of Jo…Jotunheim…Loki of, uh…Asgard, I summon thee.” I nod, satisfied with my botched translation, before through the dim emergency lights I see something.

Confused, I lean closer to inspect. It’s a smoke of some kind, but its not like normal smoke. It seems to hold tints of gold and green and black. Rubbing my eyes in hopes that I’m just tired and seeing things, I see that it’s getting bigger, and more powerful. It blows my red hair over my shoulder and I squint at the wind it’s putting out. After a moment, it seems to take form. Its…humanoid.

“You dare summon me?” The smoke clears and I see a man before me. He’s tall, has long black hair, and piercing green eyes. My heart leaps into my throat. What have I done?

“What the hell…?” I stammer to myself, hastily opening the book and flying through the pages to the passage I just read aloud. My stomach drops. The Spell Of Summoning The God Of Mischief. “Oh…my god, that was a spell!?” I exclaim, stepping back in surprise. “I just-I just read a spell?! And it worked?! I gasp, looking up at the man before me, looking furious. “You’re real?!”

“A mere mortal girl, thinking she can just summon me whenever she pleases?” He steps forward, towards me, and I scramble back until my back hits the wall.

“I-I-I’m so sorry, uh, my lord!” I stammer, trying to calm his anger by using what I deem to be an appropriate term. “I, uh…I didn’t know that was a spell, it was just so faded and I found it easier to read aloud and I-” I’m cut off when his hand suddenly finds my neck and squeezes. I gasp for air that isn’t coming, and he lifts me off the ground. I kick my legs frantically, grasping at the hand around my neck.

“This spell is not one to be taken lightly, girl.” My vision begins spotting as I scramble for breath. “You claim this was an accident. How did you gain access to such a powerful text?” When I say nothing, simply continue struggling for air, he drops me to the ground and I collapse, gasping in air. Sweet, sweet air. “Answer me!”

“I-It was just on the shelf!” I stammer, coughing my words. I point over at the books here on the first level, hoping he understands we’re in a library. “I-I just wanted to read s-some mythology books, I-I didn’t-”

“Silence.” I value being able to breathe, so I quiet myself and simply focus on bringing my heart rate back down. I don’t realize how close Loki is until he takes my chin between his finger and thumb and jerks it up to look at him. My eyes widen with fear. “You could not have read this text without some level of magical power.” Confusion flashes in my eyes, and he seems to notice it. “You did not know?”

“N-no…” I say quietly, biting my lip a bit. What does he mean? I’m human. I can’t have any power.”I-I’m only human, how can I…” I trail off when I notice his intense gaze. “Uh…”

“Yes, that is a curious question.” He lets go of my chin only to grab my shirt, yanking me into a standing position, the sudden movement making me yelp in surprise. “Tell me your name.” He grabs my wrist and turns it so the inside of my forearm faces him.

“Hazel…” I say quietly as he runs his hand down my forearm. His skin is surprisingly soft. “W-what are you-”

“You do have magic in you.” Panic strikes me when I see a slight shimmer on my skin, tracing my veins. It’s…red.

“W-whoa, what the fuck!” I gasp, tearing away from Loki and scrambling a few feet away. I stare in shock at my arm as the red shimmer slowly fades. Before I can process what’s happened, Loki grabs me again and I yelp.

“Don’t you dare resist me again.” He hisses, his lips right next to my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and I meekly nod. “Well, it is clear to me that you are not what you think you are. In fact, it is unclear to even myself where your power comes from.” I hold back a whimper. He stays quiet for a moment as he releases my wrist and I hug myself slightly. “You will come to Asgard with me so that I may study this further.”

“Uh, what?” I say, confused, as he picks the book up. “Do I get a say in this? I mean, I have a job, I have pets, I can’t just up and-”

“Silence.” He reaches out and I gasp as he yanks me against his chest, arm latched tightly around my waist. Just before I can protest again, he holds his hand out into the air and a green mist covers us. I can’t help but whimper slightly as the mist surrounds us. Before I can even process what’s happening, the mist fades.

We are definitely not in the library anymore.

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odderancyart · 7 years ago

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The Cherry Chronicles pt. 5

AO3

First Last Next

Warnings: Past abuse, PTSD, Self-hatred

Summary: Another Sans appears in Underfell. The only problem, except getting him home, is that this one’s showing signs of abuse, and is terrified of Papyrus.

The two familiar faces were staring at him. Frowning. Eye sockets dark. Not that terrifying blankness, lifelessness, but dark. Cherry shook, and he felt sweat drip down his face. His mind was in shambles. He hadn’t even been able to focus on the food out of pure nervousness and fear of what was to come. His breathing was short, it coming in gasps. He clawed on the floor, trying to find something to hold onto. The carpet. Gathering it in his claws he focused on the texture. It was soft. Much softer than the carpet at home. That carpet was covered in blood – mostly his, but others’ as well, like that bunny kid – and had stiffened a long time ago.

“e-everythin’?” he managed to ask, almost proud he only stuttered a little. Cherry bowed his head and stared on his legs. That way he only had to feel the gazes on him, not see them. It was a little better. There was a short silence. Then:

“NO,” Boss said, almost carefully. “YOU CAN START WITH TELLING US WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT YOUR PAPYRUS.”

Cherry’s dim eyelights glowed a little brighter. He smiled slightly, despite the trembles wracking his body at the mention of his Boss. He took in a winded breath and forced himself to look up at the native brothers.

“Boss i-is th’ coolest,” he began. Strangely enough Sans exhaled at that. He seemed relieved. “th’ li-lieutenant of th’ royal g-g-guard, ‘n’ a favourite o’ ‘is majesty. undyne's g-got nothin’ on ‘im. th’ only reason she’s not d-dust and Boss isn’t th’ c-captain is that Boss respects her. c-completely ruthless and merciless. th' st-strongest, ‘cept for ‘is majesty, o’ course.”

His breathing had calmed and his soul was no longer trying to beat its way out of his chest. Talking about how awesome Boss was he could do all day. If he didn’t have to mention himself. Just thinking about having to talk about how pathetic he was made Cherry start to sweat again. Everyone knew it, he couldn’t understand why they kept making him say it.

“AND WHAT DOES YOUR BROTHER THINK ABOUT YOU?”

Sans listened as Cherry spoke about his brother. He grinned, recognizing himself in it. The comment about Undyne was almost a little worrying, and so was the ‘merciless’-thing, but in the end, it could be chalked up to their world. It seemed crueller than theirs. Otherwise, it was so familiar it almost wasn’t funny.

He felt shame travel through his spine, and he shivered. Tears formed in his eye sockets and he had to fight to keep them back. He was such a crybaby. Boss hated when he cried. Unless it was during punishment, during those he seemed to appreciate tears. Boss once said that covered in bruises and tears and blood were the only times Cherry wasn’t disgusting to look at. Ever since, he had almost wanted to be punished. Just to please Boss. Almost.

He swallowed. Cherry closed his eye sockets for a short moment. Just to buy himself some time before he had to tell this version of Boss and himself how revolting he was.

“m-m-me?” He let out laugh and hunched his shoulders. “i-i-i’m a b-bother, a-a l-loathsome waste o’ sp-space. o-only good as a p-p-punchin’ b-bag ‘n’ ‘a-ardly even th-that. w-weak, ‘n’ annoyin’ ‘n’ u-ugly t’ l-look at. th' only r-r-reason 'm n-n-not e-exp is B-Boss’ s-se-sentimentality. he's told me that enough times for it t’ be clear.”

As he spoke, the others two monsters’ expressions grew more and more horrified. That was the only word Cherry had to describe them, and it didn’t fit at all. It wasn’t logical. Why would they look horrified? It was only the truth. He forced himself to take deep breaths. He flinched and whimpered as both of them suddenly were in front of him. Way too close. Only decimetres away. He wanted to recoil, but that would certainly anger them even more. Cherry felt a tear drop down his cheek, and furiously wiped it off with his sleeve. Why did he have to be such an embarrassment?

“hey, yer no…” Sans began to say, only to be interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Cherry jumped high at it, and whimpered again. Boss swore loudly.

“THE DOGI. THEY’RE HERE TO LEAVE THEIR WEEKLY REPORT,” he stated. His brows furrowed and his mouth was a tight, edgy line. He trembled more at that, Boss seemed mad. “I COMPLETELY FORGOT. SANS, GET CHERRY INTO YOUR ROOM OR SOMETHING, THEY CAN’T SEE HIM. BE BACK AFTER.”

Cherry flinched as hand quickly grabbed him, and he felt himself getting dragged into the Void. It did not feel good. Taking shortcuts were one thing, but being a passenger was truly awful. Within seconds he was sitting on the floor of a familiar room. Except his one was dirty in a way his hadn’t been for years. Boss detested how he let his room get messy.

He didn’t anymore.

“stay ‘ere, be quiet,” Sans ordered him before leaving him behind. Cherry nodded, despite the other’s back being turned to him, and curled into a ball on the dirty rug.

“y-yes, sir.”

Don’t move and stay silent. That was the only order he managed to follow most of the times. Not always though. Sometimes he was in so much pain or his nightmares got so bad that he simply couldn’t. He wasn’t even able to always follow such a simple command.

He was so repulsive.

Sans’ frame shook as he closed the door behind him. This was all kinds of wrong. He didn’t want to believe what this was implying. He didn’t… A Papyrus couldn’t be so terrible. Not toward his Sans. Yet…

Was there another conclusion to draw here?

To hear and see someone who looked so much like himself filled with so much self-hatred was horrendous. He wasn’t the most self-loving monster Underground, but this kind of disgust for oneself was something new entirely. Not even growing up in New Home he had seen something like it. And he had seen all kinds of things there. Sans took a couple deep breaths to steady himself. His hands were trembling. He quickly shoved them into his pockets. The dogs were here. He couldn’t break down now.

He put back the lazy, threatening grin on his face and went downstairs. Acting confident when not feeling like it was the first thing they had been taught as babybones. Their key to survival.

The dogs yipped in greeting as they saw him. They lowered their heads in submission but wagged their tails to show they were glad to see him. Sans chuckled, petting Lesser’s head as he walked by. They were good dogs, despite the climate of their world. Sans’ hand froze for a moment as he wondered how the Dogi was in Cherry’s ‘verse. He had been terrified of them as well. Lesser threw him a questioning, almost worried, gaze. Shaking his head slightly Sans smirked back. No worries. Lesser licked his hand.

“WELL,” boss said as they all had taken their usual seats. The dogs saluted. “REPORT.” Dogaressa, as the leader of the unit, immediately stood. She began to go through everything that had happened in Snowdin the last week. Most of it was things they knew already. Sans yawned, but his brother nodded as she spoke. Ever the dutiful soldier. The food transport had come safely – duh. Some criminals from Hotland had tried to rob the shop and had been dusted. A brawl had broken out on Grillby’s. Sans had been there, encouraged the whole thing. He grinned at the memory. It had been hilarious to watch Grillby throw them out and give them a month’s ban from the bar.

As soon as she had finished and Boss had nodded his permission, she sat down again. The dogs sniffed the air, looking slightly disturbed.

“Is other Sans okay?” Dogamy asked. His ears were pressed closely to his head.

“This place smells of fear.” Doggo added, lifting his nose into the air for good measure. The brothers glanced at each other, unsure what to say. Eventually Papyrus crossed his arms, staring at the dogs.

“THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS,” he declared, and they winced and immediately showed of their throats again. At that, the look on Papyrus’ face softened. Just a tad, just enough for Sans to see it. “BUT IF YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW, HE’S HAVING A BAD TIME. YOU NEED NOT WORRY THOUGH. I AM SURE WE WILL BE ABLE TO FIX IT WITH ENOUGH TIME.”

“(We want to help!)” Dogaressa quickly said, and Greater Dog panted in agreement. Papyrus petted her head once, and she smiled.

“GOOD DOG.” A happy gasp. “BUT AS IT IS, WE WILL HANDLE IT. I WILL TELL YOU IF WE REQUIRE ASSISTANCE. AND THAT IS MY FINAL DESCISION.”

“Lieutentant!” The dogs all saluted at that, accepting what Papyrus told them. Sans supressed a smile. It was kind of funny how loyal they’d gotten to them, seeing how they fought them when they first came to Snowdin. Although, he guessed it wasn’t too weird. Papyrus was probably the first officer they had who treated them fairly, just like he treated everyone fairly. From what he had heard, basically every officer in the Royal Guard were complete assholes except for boss and Undyne. The only ones with any kind of morals and sense for earning respect instead of immediately commanding it.

He plucked a cigarette out of his inventory and lightened it. Inhaling, he sighed in relief. It wasn’t long-lived though.

“SANS!” Papyrus complained. He frowned and glared at him. “I’VE TOLD YOU NOT TO SMOKE IN THE FUCKING HOUSE. I DON’T WANT THAT DISGUSTING SMELL INSIDE. GO OUT IF YOU NECESSARILY HAVE TO DO IT.”

“sure thing, boss,” he sighed and stood up. He wasn’t going to put out a brand-new cigarette. Well out on the porch he watched the denizens of their little town go on with their daily business. Everyone was glaring at everyone, warning them to get closer. Except the kids. Sans almost smiled as the children played on the streets, unbothered by the hostility around them. The only ones safe around here. Even if it hadn’t been illegal, boss would’ve flipped his shit if anyone had killed someone still in stripes.

As one of the bears looked up at him, though, he immediately stopped. Instead he changed it into a cocky smirk, and lifted the cigarette in greeting. Exhaled the smoke. The bear averted his eyes after a few moments.

Sans let out another relieved sigh as he felt the cold wind hit his face. This was so much better than being caught inside with either the frankly worrying Cherry or the dogs talking about stuff he didn’t care about one bit.

Perhaps he’d go to Grillby’s tonight again. Alone this time. Get drunk of his ass and not have to think about the possibility that Cherry had been abused by his Papyrus. The possibility he almost couldn’t deny after what he had heard.

Yeah. That sounded like a really fucking good idea.

Cherry wailed quietly as he heard steps. He hadn’t moved. He was being good. He had almost not made a single sound. There was no reason he would be punished, right? They hadn’t punished him yet even when he had messed up.

They were probably just biding their time. Waiting until he felt safe before striking. That had happened one too many times. Both with Boss and with others, such as Grillby.

These steps didn’t sound like they came from anyone his size, which was strange. They were far too quiet and quick. Suddenly something soft pressed again his hand. Cherry swallowed, and looked down. It was that cat again. Doomfanger purred, and licked his hand. He let out a giggle. It tickled. Those amber eyes stared at him. But they were soft. There was nothing threatening in that body language as Doomfanger buffed his hand again.

Hesitantly, Cherry lifted his hand. He held his breath as he put it on the cat’s head. He had done this before, but both Boss and Sans had been there then. Nothing happened. The spinning only got louder. He almost smiled as he slowly stroked the cat’s back. He froze as the cat let out a meow. When nothing else happened, he moved his hand again. The fur was so soft. The softest thing he had ever felt. His shoulders fell and his breathing level out as he felt tension disappear.

He continued to pet the cat, who eventually climbed into his lap and lied down. Like he had done to Boss before. It was… nice. Yeah. Nice. Cherry’s eyelids dropped and he yawned. He was getting sleepy. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in he didn’t know how long. Doomfanger licked his hand again, and purred even louder. Huh. He wondered how loud the cat could be. He yawned again.

The next thing he knew, he was curled up on the mattress – which was much softer than his own – and covered in a blanket. Doomfanger was still there, resting on his head. Cherry hadn’t had a blanket for years. Boss took once when the temperature got lower than normal; he deserved it, Cherry did not. He hadn’t been able to argue with that, and afterward he simply hadn’t gotten it back. He frowned slightly at the restricting feeling. Still. It was warm. Pleasant. This was so weird.

As he began to move slightly, Doomfanger woke up. He licked Cherry’s cheek and then disappeared out through the slightly open door. Cherry stayed, thinking about whether it would be acceptable to just stay in bed for a while. Normally the answer would be a clear no, but someone had even tucked him in, so perhaps.

After a few minutes, the door opened slowly, and Boss was standing there, the cat by his feet. He just gave Cherry a short glance, but it didn’t look hostile, before putting down the tray he held in his hands next to the shorter.

On it a steaming cup of coffee and a plate with pancakes stood. Cherry stared at it, wondering if that was for him. The last two days’ happenings did make him believe it was quite likely, yet… breakfast in the bed? With luxuries like coffee? Whoa.

“IT IS FOR YOU, YES,” Boss said like he had read his mind. “EAT UP, BUT DO TAKE YOUR TIME. ONCE YOU’RE FINISHED I’D APPRECIATE IF YOU CAME DOWNSTAIRS.”

“o-o’ course, Boss,” he stammered, almost wondering if he had heard right. Why was Boss so polite to him? The only monsters Boss had ever bothered being polite with was Undyne and the King – and of course his officers when he had others than Undyne. Boss winced slightly.

“ABOUT THAT. WOULD IT BE OKAY IF YOU CALLED ME PAPYRUS INSTEAD? BOSS IS WHAT SANS CALLS ME, AND THE IMPLICATIONS WHEN YOU DO IT IS NOT VERY COMFORTABLE. I WON’T FORCE YOU, BUT I WOULD APPRECIATE IT.”

Cherry gaped at that. He got permission to use his Boss’ first name? He hadn’t done that since they were babybones.

“’c-c-course Bo… papyrus. whatever ya wish.”

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