disclaimer: FAIRYTAIL characters © MASHIMA.
a/n: because I think death&dream is getting way too happy for my liking. SO LET'S DO THIS
warning: extremely strong language, extremely graphic scenes, AND extremely dark themes.
decretum.
.
.
So beautiful.
sosososososobeautiful
…
White?
Silver?
No.
Platinum hair.
Exceptionally beautiful, silky, platinum-coloured hair.
But she is crying.
She is crying, and her cerulean eyes sparkle with brilliance, so much like the stars above.
"I've done nothing wrong."
Her voice grinds; she whispers with a passion.
…
"I've done…" a voice so full of sadness—"nothing wrong."
You cannot stay here.
Raise your head. "I didn't choose,"
…
"… to be like this."
…
"So please,"
…
Lower your head. Get on your knees. Bow to them. Show them, just how pathetic you are.
"… please don't throw me away."
Show them, just how pathetic you can get.
"I don't want to be like this."
Leave.
No mercy.
"I have nothing…!"
LEAVE
"…"
YOU DON'T BELONG HERE
"But I'm…"
GET OUT
"… I…"
GET OUT
"… where can I go?"
GET OUT
"… please…"
YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION
She shakes her head.
She covers her ears.
She shuts her eyes.
YOUR EXISTENCE IS CORRUPTION
…
She spreads her wings.
Dark,
black,
ugly,
disgusting wings.
.
.
monochrome
.
.
The ice ball swirls with the alcohol in his glass. He brings it up to his mouth, takes a sip of the whiskey to get a feel in his throat, burning—adventurously, down to his chest. The thrill of the heat smothering the aftertaste—mmm.
And then he sighs.
Thundering music, flashing lights. Hoards and hoards of unknown strangers, dancing with other unknown strangers. Everything is so messy, so chaotic, so fake.
He sighs again, wanting to scream.
.
.
"Hey,"
A woman's voice.
So he turns to her, amber eyes boring into her brown ones.
She smiles. "Alone?"
Tch. Slut.
He takes another sip.
The woman persists. She leans closer, and their elbows touch. "Buy me a drink?" she whispers into his ear.
He grunts and stares.
She smiles in innocently—a type of innocent that makes him want to kill.
Why in the shit would you whisper? It's a fucking nightclub—you can hardly hear yourself think, let alone whisper, you dumb bitch.
"Let's fuck."
The woman jumps slightly, raising a brow.
He turns back to her, expression still bored as hell, and he waits for her answer.
Slowly, slowly, that risen brow lowers—and then that whorish smile returns. She grabs him by the arm, yanks him off his stool, and pushes through the crowd—all high over the booming music.
.
.
They end up in an alley, where the man finds himself pushing the stranger against the cement wall, gashing at the little clothing the woman has on. He attacks her throat, teeth sinking into her skin and he tastes her perfume—a lingering taste, much, much worse than that of alcohol.
She moans as he crushes into her, rubbing his manhood against her spread legs, wrapped so tightly around his waist.
He wastes no time; thrusting in, he pounds at her.
The stranger moans with pleasure and joy—she tries to grab his face but he resists, growling like an animal as he tears her apart.
His teeth sink lower, drawing blood; her eyes gauge.
She screams louder, he pounds harder.
He increases his pace, she loses her strength.
She screams for him to stop, he snickers and bites her again.
"StopstopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOP—"
The sound of bones cracking, followed by a deafening shriek.
Oh, would you look at that?
Collarbone—broken, bleeding… and—
crack
—her neck's broken. Uh-oh, she's dying.
Doesn't matter; he's not done. He'd fuck her dry if he had to.
"Laxus—" a pause, "HOLY—" the younger male jumps in to intercept, "Bro, you're gonna kill her, man!"
"Fuck off, Natsu."
The pink-haired male ignores his death-threatening voice. He pulls the taller man away with force, and he finally separates the two.
The man glares at the pinkette. "Fucking shit, Natsu. I wasn't done."
"Yeah, well—" he points to the woman, "she's done. More like, she's dead."
"Tch."
Natsu crouches down to the lifeless body. "Man…" he picks up her arm by the fingers, "… you gotta stop doing this. You don't just play around with them like this; they have a life and shit, y'know?"
He fixes his pants, "You lecturing me, now?"
"Just sayin'…" Natsu shrugs.
The taller man rolls his eyes. "You deal with this shit. I'm going in for another drink."
"Yeah, it better be another drink and not another body."
The door shuts.
.
.
"Two shots of tequila, quick," he murmured to the bartender.
"Right your way, sir."
He grunts again. Surprised that the man heard him through all this noise.
.
.
The music changes, the crowd goes wilder.
.
.
He plays with the lemon wedge before downing the shots.
"Another one, sir?"
He raises his glass, but couldn't say what he needed to say. Instead—
"Give us twenty."
The man turns to the cocky sound. "Gray."
"Shut up," he groans, "You've no fucking clue what I've just been through."
"Juvia?"
Gray slams his head onto the table. "Fuck."
He smirks. From his pocket, he pulls out some money and leaves it on the counter. "My treat. Have Natsu drink with you, I'm out."
The raven-hair male frowns. "That idiot's here? What about Lucy?"
"Probably let him loose tonight."
"Lucky shit," Gray mumbles.
The older male chuckles, "Just kill her already if you're so annoyed."
He raises his head to glare.
.
.
"Have a good night, sir." The bouncer said whilst holding the door for him.
He gives him a nod and leaves.
Looking up to the sky, he sees a faint trail of black smoke coming from the alley.
Yeah, leave it to Natsu to be subtle. He shakes his head to the thought and walks on.
.
.
In the majority of the living beings' perspective, today is a Saturday. It is two forty-five in the morning, and they should either be asleep, wasting time in nightclubs, or fucking.
So what should he do?
There is a girl, half a block away, sitting on the fence between the sidewalk and the street. There is no moon, there are no stars (damn it, Lucy), just streetlights. She sits, motionless, right beneath one of them and stares at the ground.
So, what should he do?
He stuffs his hands into his pockets and continues on—eyeing the girl's back as he walks by.
A petite, fragile girl she seems to be, and he cannot get over how white her hair appears. Tied properly in a mid-ponytail, she is clad in a black wool cardigan, matched with purple… short-shorts? Skirt? He doesn't know—he can't tell. But it's alright, he'll find out once he gets her to open her legs.
Though, she really doesn't look like a prostitute to him.
So he stares on, moving at the same time, until he is too far and cannot catch her in his field of vision any longer. But—
"Hey,"
—what should he do?
He jumps. She just called to him, so he turns.
But the girl herself does not turn, though she begins, "Am I pretty?"
"…"
She stands up from the fence and walks up to the stranger. "You're taking too long to answer."
He gawks.
Frustrated, she grabbed him by the collar. "I'll be more direct," and then she pushes him—with force—to the nearest standing structure—which happens to be the streetlight.
The man can only stare.
"Do you want to sleep with me?"
tingle
She pulls his head lower down to her face; she breathes onto his lips. "Please answer,"
He inhales—a most pleasant scent. It is much better than what that slut wore earlier. He also really likes how this girl's uneven white bangs cover those eyes.
those eyes those eyes those eyes—oh why are they so familiar?
"…"
"You're fucking beautiful."
She smiles.
And he shivers.
The girl wraps her arms around his neck. "I need it right now," she latches herself onto him, "I'm in pain."
He grabs her rear and she gasps. "You don't know what real pain is, girl."
She groans and rocks into his hardness.
"Where do you live?" he asks for the purpose of avoiding any more quick fucks in an alley—in case Natsu or Gray show up, because he knows this one's too good to be interrupted.
"I don't have a home," she is panting as she brushes her lips up his neck.
He skips the need to question on. Instead, "Then where's the closest motel?"
The girl holds in a moan when he thrusts back against her rhythm. She points to her left, and in a flash, she is getting dragged by the tall, muscular blonde stranger.
.
.
What the fuck.
She pins him onto the bed.
What the fuck?
The girl tears his clothes apart and frees his member, letting it spring free into her tiny palms.
What the fucking fuck?
She removes her shorts—
oh, they're shorts
—and tops him.
Oh, shit…!
She lowers herself, sliding him into her.
The man throws his head back, relishing at the delicious feel of this girl's tight walls gripping onto his manhood. He curses in pleasure as she rides him.
"H-h…" she starts, gaining his attention, "… help me…"
In an instant, he sits up to rip at her cardigan and tank top, leaving her with nothing but a purple lacy bra—
Shit, she must love purple a lot.
—all in the while thrusting upwards as she tries to match him.
The girl isn't going to leave herself out; she holds onto both ends of the blonde's collar and opens his shirt, sending buttons flying and fabrics tearing—she reveals his bare chest and abdomen and she moans at the sight.
Fuck, he needs to hear that again. He wraps his arms around her tiny body and lets her rock faster, harder, and then he buries himself into her soft breasts, where he proceeds to nudge the bra off with his face. He does succeed—for one side—but, an accomplishment is an accomplishment, right? So he claims his reward, biting and sucking at her perky nipple with raw lust.
She squeals at the sensation, and then she looks down.
His golden mane is blocking everything she wants to see—but she can smell him; cologne and a strange scent. A very distinct and strong scent.
He smells like… heat?
No, that's not quite it.
who are you?—she wonders.
She rides him, harder, faster, hotter.
Perfect.
The speed, the force, the passion—simply perfect.
He trails his tongue up her chest to her neck, where his teeth sink.
purr
Most intriguing—she actually purred like a cat, like an animal; not very human. He flips their position, pushing her down onto the bed and shudders to her expression. A look of confusion and loss; almost like she's never been fucked before.
Weird way to put this, huh? She was just fucking him a second ago.
So peculiar.
who are you?—he wonders.
He thrusts into her with the same speed, force, passion as she rode him, hoping to achieve the same sensation she presented to him moments before.
Because no one has ever given him such pleasure.
No one ever will.
At least… not in this realm.
.
.
that is the law
I've had enough of this bullshit.
that is the law, and you must obey
…
Fuck that.
.
.
He's close, but he swallows the need to explode. He indulges himself into her beautiful sounds, wondering if he'd ever be able to experience such intensity. After all, once this is over, she'd just die, much like the rest of them, and he'd have to look for another woman to satiate this—
"…!"
… the hell?
He's flipped around—the girl is on top again.
He widens his eyes and she smiles ohsosexily and he just wants to fuck her to death.
But then his resolve breaks and he fails to hold himself back any longer. He growls and comes into the human girl, all in the while feeling guilty because too bad—
She's the best he's ever had.
The waves pass by slowly… slowness—eternity, a pace he knows far too well.
The girl falls onto him; strands of her hair cover his face and he inhales.
How very sad.
Such a soft and beautiful scent will soon rot away along with her corpse. He runs his hand up her back, feeling the wonderful curves and reveres at the smoothness of her skin.
gasp
She pulls away.
In shock.
And he, too, is visually startled. He can only stare.
Speechless.
Her thin brows narrow inwards.
Suspicious.
The girl's mouth parts slightly, "… How…" her voice shakes, "… are you still breathing…?"
Naturally, his fingers clench at the bed sheets below.
Both of them know—he has the same question in mind.
So he swallows and asks something else,
"What are you…?"
.
.
a/n: do you like or hate? Please tell me :(
unlike my other rakumira fic, I will incorporate other couples in this… only if you like, of course.
so please review!