Category: One-Shots and One-Offs

Drinks with Shelia [18+]

Shelia slid the drink in front of me and I immediately took a few sips, trying to get past the harsh alcohol in my mouth. The bar was loud as always, but that was something I’m used to.

But when I first went inside, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. The place was still crowded, the food smelled good, and alcohol was flying all around.

So, what was different today?

Sheila had a big grin on her face, hands on her hips.

“What?” I asked. “Somethin’ on mah face?”

Shelia laughed loudly, fixing her tank top to be more suited for work, “Yeah, I know. I can’t wait for this shift to be over. I have a lot more I want to do to you.”

Binocular Overwatch

It was just another day out on the town, looking around for anybody else still living in the streets. Although I knew the streets like the back of my hand, I decided to play it safe and observe from a nearby rooftop.

I dropped my rifle down next to me, and leaned against the edge of the room, looking down at the streets below.

From the corner of my eye I saw something speeding down the street, somebody struggling inside of a car.

I put my binoculars down for a moment and tapped my earpiece, “Found another loner.  Engage?”

“Like I said, Nao, it’s your call.”

“Roger that.”

Trash Bag

I was tired of hearing is constant complaining , his insistent pestering about the most minor things around the house. The longer I was stuck with him, the more I could feel myself going insane.

Tonight was the night that I finally snapped. He came down to the kitchen after showering, complaining that I was still cleaning up in the kitchen instead of meeting him in our bedroom. He was so bother that I wasn’t waiting across the bed, waiting for him to defile my body again, that he actually didn’t care that the kitchen was dirty.

That was fine. The kitchen was about to be dirty again. This time, he was going to be the one who left behind a big mess.

What is A Human?

War has always been a favorable pastime of mine, enjoying the destruction and misery brought about to the enemy troops when they’re outmatched. Seeing living bodies become cold corpses, the sound of gunfire and cries of defeat, taking control of the enemy bases and camps, all of these made war fun.

The absolutely best part was always confronting the enemy leader, and making a mess out of them with ease. An army is only as strong as its leader, and I’ve yet found one that was able to best even my most basic of infantry. 

Salazar swore he was prepared to deal with somebody such as myself. I proved him wrong. 

My lungs filled with the scent of gunpowder and despair from the battlefield as I took a big huff of air.

“What weaklings, the humans are. It still boggles me how so many throughout history attempted to try and unify all of them under one flag.”

In a strange burst of humility, I called out to see if he was alive, addressing him by rank, Commander Salazar.

Ribs

It was a beautiful thing, seeing that exposed rib cage. I reached over to the tool tray and picked up a corked vial; the liquid inside was clear. I took off the cork and brought the vial just under my nose, taking in a big whiff of the noxious fumes. I couldn’t contain my girlish giggling as I looked at the rib cage.

“Oh gosh, I can’t wait to see how pretty and white this bleach will make you. Just thinking gets me excited!”

The lively man on the table struggled, wanting to escape. He tried to bite his way through the mouth gag in his mouth, but it only wedged deeper into his mouth. His arms and legs tried to flair around and force their way free, but every action only brought his limbs back down onto the examination table. He rolled his head over to look at me. I could see the hatred burning in his eyes, his eyebrows burrowed down, his mind probably thinking of vicious and violent things being done to me as revenge. Curiosity got the better of me.

I leaned over and took out the hand towel mouth gag, allowing him to speak. After taking in a large gasp of air he went on a long train of slurs and hateful words, calling me all kinds of bitches and murderers. He even attempted to spit in my face, but it only rolled out of the side of his mouth and became drool along his cheek.

I used the hand towel to clean up the small trail, “Please, dear, try not to soil yourself. You must try and keep tidy.”

He roared at the top of his lungs, “Go fuck yourself, you crazy bitch.”

Butterflies started fluttering around in my center, making my entire body tingle with excitement. I could feel my cheeks light up with heat as he threw more angry words at me. Out of pure embarrassment I took the spit-covered hand towel and forced it back in this mouth, this time pressing a bit of it down his throat to clog his airways.

I grinned at him, running my free hand along one of his exposed ribs, “Don’t tease me with a good time. You don’t know how rough I can get.”


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Break-in in the Outbreak

She kept her eyes on me as she reloaded the shotgun one shell at a time.

“Now, hun,” she began, “why in all hell should I begin to believe anything that’s been coming out of your mouth, especially after finding you trying to fit through my bedroom window?” She came to a halt with the reloading, twirling the next shell between her fingers.

“I take it you don’t pay attention to what’s going on outside, do you?”

“Oh trust and believe me, I’m fully aware of what’s going on in them streets—” she stops mid-sentence and, in one quick and fluid motion, reloads the next shell in her hand and cocks the shotgun, “—and I know how to deal with those things roamin’ in the streets.”

I felt a cold chill travel down my spine when I saw her cock that thing with just one hand. And on top of that she did it all without even having to look down at the gun on her lap. The entire time, her piercing gaze was right on me, trying to look into my mind to see if I wanted to harm her.

“So, Goldilocks, you gonna explain yourself? Why did you break into my home?”

Considering my current situation, I figured talking would be a good way to try and pass the time. “I suppose I should. Honestly, the main reason I thought about coming to this house was because I thought it was deserted.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well, your windows weren’t bordered up for starters, which explains how I managed to even get into this situation. On top of that, all the lights were off, so I figured electricity had ran out here. I honestly thought the house was abandoned.”

The woman kept her eyes on me for a bit, almost trying to size me up from my spot. After a solid minute of eye contact she placed the shotgun on the cushion next to her and got up from her seat. She walked over and crouched down in front of me, grabbing at the thick rope that bound my feet, “If I got rid of this rope, you won’t try to run away, will you?”

I lifted up my wrists to show the other set of rope she used on me, “I promise. Besides, I can’t really do much with my hands tied like this.”

She looked at me one more time; I tried not to blink just in case she read my eye moments as a sign. After a moment of silence she unbound my feet and collected the rope in the back pocket of her jeans. I thanked her, finally able to feel the blood rush back into my feet. She nodded as she went back to her seat.

She reached behind her and pulled out a small pistol, taking out the magazine and counting the bullets already in it. Her voice was a bit more rasp, but had a sensitive tone as she spoke, “A youngin’ like you shouldn’t be alone in these times. You’ve got no family lookin’ after ya?”

I shook my head” Use to.”

“What happened to them?

“The outbreak got to them before I could.”


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Cobblestone Captive

“How do you plea?”

Hervea spat on the ground in front of the judge’s feet, “You’ll go to hell before I plea guilty on a charge I never committed. If I die, you and your people will suffer.”

The judge gazed down at the captive Hervea, her neck exposed on a cold block of cobblestone and hands tied behind her back as she was forced to her knees. Every time Hervea tried to upright herself the executioner would kick her in the side, forcing her to cry out in agony. The judge took a few steps around and crouched down to look at the bruising around Hervea’s rib cage.

She caressed the black and blue spotted area with the tips of her fingers, making sure to put barely any pressure on it, “You’ve taken quite a beating from my personal executioner today, haven’t you? Almost makes me feel the pity for you.”

The judge backed away and snapped her fingers, the telltale sign of issuing an order. The executioner reached down and grabbed Hervea by the hair, clutching at the small ponytail on the side of her head. She screamed more, feeling some of her hair rip straight out of her head as her body weight tried to force her down. Once she reached eye level with the executioner, a flurry of punches came over her, all of them striking right in the bruised area; the last few punches managed to break the skin, causing blood to start rushing from her midsection.

“Almost.”

Hervea’s pain came out in her screams, “You fucking piece of orc shit!”

“That’s enough, Talius,” the judge spoke coldly. “You can put her down now.”

The executioner nodded, slamming Hervea back onto the cobblestone block head first.

The judge watched Hervea as she lied motionless and her face buried in the block. The judge crouched down and gently tapped Hervea on her head to get her attention, “I’ll give you one last chance. How do you plea?”

Muffled from a stone in her mouth, Hervea chuckled happily through her pain. Confusion over took the judge’s mind as she saw her prisoner’s body twitching with laughter.

“What the hell is so funny?”

Bare-handed, the judge grabbed a clump of Hervea’s hair and forced her to look up. Their eyes meet one another. Hervea continued laughing, closing her eyes for a moment. When they opened again, the whites of her left eye were covered in a dark red web-like pattern and her iris was growing a bright yellow. Her laughter came to a halt, spitting out the rock, and took in a deep breath as she spoke her next words.

“Finis appropinquavit.”


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You Fool

It was all his fault.

He was the reason why everything ended up the way they did. If he had done as I asked, things would have worked out for the both of us. But because of his constant questioning and reasoning there was no other choice for my actions; I had to make sure that my slate would remain clean and without any blemishes. I had established my reputation after a long period of time.

“You fucking idiot,” I whispered as I looked down at him, our eyes locked in a never-ending stare. I inched a bit closer, noticing the darkened color of his once hazel irises, “Why didn’t you follow my instructions? Everything was perfectly planned out, and you ruined it.”

All of those months of getting everybody onto my side was now in jeopardy. All that time having to suck up to higher management and build a status for myself was on the edge of collapsing. Those countless days off overtime were almost for nothing. And Russell was to blame for everything going to shit.

Seeing him laid out on the ground beneath me, just lying there stiff as a board, I couldn’t control myself when my fingers caressed his still warm cheek. I moved his head from one side to the other and back, taking note of any suspicious marks and cuts on him. Outside of the normal cuts from a weekly shave, there wasn’t anything too visible. Except for the red marks around his now pale neck.

“We can’t let others see you now, can we? They’ll think something physical went down.”

Thankfully I had more than enough tools to deal with this kind of situation. I knew that learning how to powder my face would eventually have a more practical use.

With only a matter of minutes, I ran into the second floor bathroom and grabbed the small makeup kit inside the medicine cabinet. With the dusting brush in hand and an array of skin tones to choose from I perfectly blended a mixture of different powders to match the skin tone on his neck, a peach-turning-pale color. Just to be on the safe side, I started covering any kind of mark that would indicate some kind of struggle whether it was new or not.

“Beautiful.” I mumbled as I admired my work. The red marks around his neck were now artfully masked by makeup, now invisible to the naked eye. Thankfully the makeup was a new organic blends of cosmetics I’ve started using, which world mean it would be even harder for police and coroners to detect after a set amount of time. Better for me.

I took a few steps back and overlooked Russell and his stiffened glory. The one arm he had up trying to defend himself with was slowly descending to the ground. I sped up the process by carefully lowering the limb to his side, making sure rigor mortis didn’t fully set in yet.


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Totally Not Sleight-of-Hand

He kept looking at me with those golden brown eyes of his, just watching me with such intensity and intrigue. His eyebrow kept going up and down in a pattern as if he’s trying to give me some kind of signal. Even though I’m looking straight at his, my mind is off wandering someplace else, stuck on his previous attempt on trying to wow me with his “special talent.”

I looked back down on the small, round table in front of us, glancing at the deck of card spread out across the surface. Out of the entire fifty-two deck, only one card is face-up: the queen of hearts. I shuffled that deck at least four times, each time using a different method, I thought to myself. He even turned away while I picked the card, and shuffled it. There has to be some kind of strange prank going on, but I can’t figure it out.

“Well, missy,” Eric began with a cocky tone, “you figured out how I did that?”

I kept my eyes glued to the card just for a moment longer before letting out a sigh, shaking my head, and putting on a small smile, “I don’t know how the hell you did it. But yes, that’s my card.”

Eric laughed, probably at me finally letting down my wall of stubbornness. Ever since I was a kid, I never really believed in the whole idea of magic and magicians. As I grew older, I saw a bunch of different tricks being debunked before my eyes, thus only furthering my disbelief. However, all of those times in the past, I was never the participant in a person’s display of “magic.” In this case, being asked out on a date by a so-called magician was the perfect chance to experience it with my own eyes.

Watching him do his tricked spurred up a small interest in seeing what else he could do. I lean back in my seat, a shoulder propped on the back to keep me balanced. “Alright, Mister Magician Man. What else can you do to convince me that magic is real and not just a bunch of sleight of hand stuff?”

Still cocky, Eric chuckled and leaned forward on the table, eyeing me as if I challenged him, “Oh, I have a lot more I can show you. But, I’ll convince you using one of my favorite talents.”

“And what would that be?”

“I can get your wallet without leaving my seat.”

How could that even be possible, I questioned in my head. My wallet is all the way inside my jean pocket, and we’re sitting on opposite ends of the table.

Subconsciously, I slid my hand into my pocket just to make sure my wallet was where it should be. And it was. Pressed against my thigh in my jeans. I gave Eric a smug-ass smile and said, “Try me.”

Eric readied himself by sitting up in his seat and adjusting the small black tie around the collar of his shirt. Informing me that this next trick would require my help, he took off his dark blue blazer and placed it on top of the table.

He gave me a few instructions as he began the trick, “What I want you to do is think about your wallet. When you have a clear image of it in your mind, I want you to reach into one of my jacket sleeves and feel around for something.”

“That’s it? Seems simple enough.”

There’s no way he could possibly convince me that magic exists. He’s just toying with me to make me look stupid.

Looking directly at Eric, just to make sure he doesn’t try to slip under the table, I put a clear visual in my head about my wallet; it’s a plain, light blue open wallet with a small chain attached around one of the flaps. Without telling him what it looks like, I followed his instructions and reached into one of the sleeves of his blazer and felt around.

At first, all I could feel was the sleek, silk lining of the heavy jacket, cool to the touch no matter how long he had it on. As I went further up the sleeve I started to feel a collection of tiny metal links forming a chain. I froze.

No, this is just a trick. He made me think about my wallet beforehand. My mind is just playing with me, making me think that I actually feel it in the sleeve. I shook my head and continued. With my free hand, I put it over my pocket just to make sure my wallet was still there.

But there was no bulge. Nothing was pressing against my thigh.


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— via Daily Prompt: Sleeve

Way of the Dark Arts

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have magical abilities? Did you ever want to master pyromancy and set ablaze the place that was once your sanctuary, but is now a land of cursed memories? Do you know how quickly you can make somebody die from hypothermia if you could encase them in a block of solid ice? Why walk through a forest in the dark when you can shock a corpse and turn it into a usable source of light?

The possibilities for magic is endless. And Salnia is here for me to bestow upon her the element of her choice; she’s been begging me for days to take her under my wing as my apprentice Primal Witch.

“Take up your catalyst,” I command her, “and show me just what you plan on doing with your newfound power.”

From the bottom of the steps to my throne, Salnia eagerly looks at me as she raises her hand, “I have already brought my catalyst, my Mistress! It is one that I shall make sure to constantly carry with me at all times.”

Why does she have her hand up? I question to myself. I inch forward a bit from my throne of human carcasses, taking note of a faint, gold shimmering effect around one of Salnia’s fingers. Curiosity takes hold of me as I approach, the skeletal steps cracking underneath my feet.

“What catalyst have you already selected for yourself? What are you willing to sacrifice in order to unlock your latent powers?”

I grab Salnia’s hand and keep it open, palm side up. Aged scaring and slashes are prominent all across her entire palm, irregularities in healed skin showing how many times one spot was cut open. A golden ring is loosely wrapped around her ring finger; there’s a name engraved on its underside, but there’s a scratch across it, making it completely illegible. I don’t hesitate to take the ring off to get a better evaluation of it.

“This ring seems to have gone through some wear and tear, has it not?” I ask.

Salina nods as she confirms, “Yes. It is the ring given to me on my wedding day. That was quite some time ago…”

“And you want to make this your catalyst. Why is that?”

“That ring has nothing but evil and malicious memories tied to it, memories that I will never be able to forget.” Salina gets up from her kneeling pose and stands up straight in front of me. When I look into her eyes, I can see a growing darkness emerging from within. “And I shall use those memories as my fuel for learning the kind of magic I intend on mastering.”

The talk of evil and darkness, using bad memories as her fuel for mastering magic. She’s using a gift of her from a time she one lived in bliss and happiness, but the marks on her hand tell the opposite. I can’t help but smile when I have an idea of what kind of magic my new apprentice would like to study.

I put the ring back on her finger as I ask one final question, “Salina, my future Primal Witch apprentice. What kind of magic and sorcery have to decided on to learn? Shout out your purpose and I shall decide if your intentions are worthy enough of my time and effort.”

Salina closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath to clear her mind. Her eyes focused on mine and her hands clutched, she yells out, “Show me the way of abysmal magic so I can torture my husband in the afterlife!”


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— via Daily Prompt: Bestow

Display of Honor

The crowd standing below me are all yelling and chanting in a frenzy, just waiting for the final verdict to be given. It has been quite some time since the last public display of force, so I can understand why they’re all so anxious to see what kind of verdict they’re expecting. However, based on the way the crowd are acting, I can tell they want everything to end violently.

“Bash his filthy skull into the pavement!”

“Don’t give him a chance to try and defend himself; he knows he did wrong!”

“Show the splatter on the mallet afterwards!”

I’ve come to appreciate the bloodlust emanating from the townspeople. But their desire is little to none when compared to my own. Ready to let this come to an end, I carefully pushed myself up from my throne and stepped up to the end of the balcony, “My fellow Tavarian people. It is time.”

The excitement of the crowd skyrocketed when they heard my voice call out to them. In almost perfect unison they all turned back towards the castle wall and gazed upward at me, cheering and applauding at my entrance. They start begging for me to give the final verdict as their anticipation is nearing its peak. Although I already knew how today’s display will end, I wanted to tease them just a bit longer.

“Before I give my verdict,” I started, “I understand the Warden would like to make sure everybody is on the same page.” Slowly raising my hand, I point towards the ironclad figure standing on the wooden stage in the center of the courtyard. Next to him is a man, bound by his wrists and ankles, thrown to his knees, and his head hanging off the edge of a stone display. “Warden, would you please.”

Placing his gauntleted fist across his chest, the Warden gave a slight bow before speaking, “Thank you, your Highness.” In a proud display of honor, the Warden then banged on his chest, the chest-plate ringing loudly across the yard, as he roared, “For Tavaria!”

The crowd let out a roar of their own, repeating over and over “For the honor of Tavaria, for the pride of Tavarian might!”

“Tavarian might is absolute. Tavarian honor submits to none,” I whispered under my breath. I felt the blazing energy from the crowd resting in my chest, but I had to keep myself under control; a queen does have their own honor to uphold at times.

The Warden couldn’t help but laugh with glee at the people, feeling joyous at the strong display from the people of Tavaria. However, he knew that this gathering wasn’t to boast, but to punish. He raised his hand and said, “At ease, all. Let us proceed with today’s event.”

Screwdriver

“Tell me, Mr. Hudson. What goes on in that thick skull of yours? You seem to the be type of person who lets their mind wander about all day and night. Or, perhaps you just do that to help you forget the worries and stressful nature of your daily life.”

Ezekial kept up his casual, back and forth pacing in the darkened room. Even with just a single, low-hanging light bulb in the center of the room, he could catch the glimmering of the various tools scattered along the ground. He picked up a small hammer, eyeing the light layer of rust on the top of the claw – the part that helps take out nails, “This could be useful. I should go through all my options first.”

Without looking behind him, Ezekial lobbed the rusty hammer over his shoulder. Before hearing the sound of crashing metal, the screaming of a man came from behind him. Ezekial’s skin hardened full of goosebumps as the man continued screaming for a bit longer; sobs and pleading started replacing the scream.

“Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?”

Ezekial came to a sudden halt, “‘What have I ever done to you?’ You really don’t know why I brought you here? Are you that fucking dense?”

With his face buried in his hands, Ezekial took a moment to to breath, about to let out a scream of his own, but the only thing that came out was a loud, exhausted sigh. Part of him couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of this man’s mouth. It just made him more angry, wanting to put all of this behind him. However, Ezekial didn’t want to just finish his current job; he wanted to relish and enjoy the sight a bit longer before bringing it all to an end. He looked down in front of him and saw a broken screwdriver, the head of it gone, leaving a razor-edge point in place.

Ezekial juggled the screwdriver in his hand as he turned to face the man. Placed under the light bulb in the center of the room sat a wounded man, chained and bound by his wrists, ankles and chest. Gashes and bruises mark the marked the man’s entire body, blood tricked down and formed a small pool around his feet. Chunks of his grey hair are gone, like somebody has been dragging him by the scalp.

The man could barely keep his head up to look at Ezekial. His strength reserves were near its end, and he wanted to try and use whatever he had left to try and survive the torture he was expecting to happen.

Seeing the injured man put a strange gurgling sensation in the center of Ezekial’s stomach. It was a very familiar sensation he’s come to recognize after years and years of giving into his hobby. He’s managed to see a bunch of the people who he’s had conflict with in the past and managed to find closure. Today was no different.

He crept up to Nathan, the man bound to the chair. With his free hand, Ezekial grabbed him by a clump of his hair and forced him to look up. Seeing Nathan’s bulky neck, the broken screwdriver pressed against his windpipe, just moments away from piercing straight through it with enough force.

“Nathan Hudson. Born in September of 1972. Graduated top of his class in high school and got a full scholarship to Uni of Nevada. You had it all.”

“How do you know all of this about me…?”

Ezekial’s face was covered in a frown full of hate, “I have my sources. But don’t fret. You won’t be missed.”


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— via Daily Prompt: Fret