Chapter Text
Mr. Crawling doesn’t get injured as much as he used to when he was in the other world.
There were times when he’d accidentally cut himself on something that he didn’t think would be sharp, like freshly printed paper or the cheese grater. And on an even rarer occasion, Mr. Crawling might unintentionally startle Y/n by popping out of nowhere and she might give him a bonk to the head because that’s just how her reflexes were. Blood is something that he was honestly used to and like the others in the other world, he developed a taste for it since it was so common where he was from. Even if it came from him. Mr. Crawling always licks off his wounds and the little cuts he’ll get from being careless. It’s instinctual at this point. Therefore, his gut reaction to your bleeding is to lick your wound until the crimson fluid stops beading.
Mr. Crawling shuffles towards the foot of the bed, his gray fingers tremble as they reach for the hem of the blanket that loosely covers you. He slowly pulled away the threaded material, revealing your sleeping body to him. Mr. Crawling bit his lower lip, hesitating and he pauses to ponder if this was the correct way to counter this situation. He didn’t want to upset you. He means well, he really does. He just wants to help you. A muffled rumble from the raging thunder outside clears his doubting thoughts and Mr. Crawling manages to gather enough courage to continue. His fingers gradually inch forward, reaching for the waistband of your sleeping sweatpants.
Mr. Crawling swallows thickly, the tips of his fingers carefully dip underneath the hems of your pants. He lifted them slightly, almost shivering at your natural warmth that ghosted against his cold skin. Mr. Crawling gently begins to tug, slowly maneuvering them from underneath your hips, and meticulously pulls your sweatpants down your legs. He rolls them off your ankles and drops the piece of clothing to the side, trying not to react to the areas of you he has never seen before exposed. Yet, his body felt a little…giddy.
Mr. Crawling shakes his head, pushing away those feelings. His task is to help your wound! Nothing else!
After removing your pants and discarding them aside, the scent of blood was stronger than before. You were clad in nothing but your baggy shirt and your underwear, the simple pair you got recently - plain black that had lace trim around the edges. Mr. Crawling remembers getting curious at the items you brought and pulling out the panties from the store bag. He also remembers how fast you snatched them out of his hands. Humans are very defensive over certain things that he has yet to understand. But, he figures it has to do something about their dignity. Sometimes, watching some channels on the screen machine gives him insight into human behaviors and cultures.
Humans are so…peculiar and troubled as they are interesting.
Mr. Crawling’s fingers traced along the lace trim of your panties and he dipped them underneath the hem. He turns his head downward as he begins the motion of shimming your underwear underneath your hips and down your thighs to your ankles. The fabric crinkled in his grasp and Mr. Crawling realized there was some kind of…bandage on your underwear, stained through with blood. It seemed to be put there to maybe stop the bleeding? The bandage looked like the proper size and thickness for this sort of injury, it seemed pretty convenient. Rising his head once again, Mr. Crawling is graced with the sight of you. All of you. The parts of you he always secretly wanted to see but never advanced. The exposed areas of your body that he can only wish to look let alone touch.
There was a lot of blood. So much blood that it took away his focus on your exposed skin. The familiar crimson color covered your entire mound, it’s even smudged on your inner thighs. Yet, you still slept while it didn’t bother you at all. Despite bleeding this much. Mr. Crawling quietly whines, filled with heavy concern and disbelief. He just could not fantom how can you look so peaceful right now, as if nothing was happening.
What kind of injury was this? How and when did you get it?
Mr. Crawling was buzzing with questions that he knew you would never answer. However, he does know for a fact that you weren’t wounded when you left for the day. When you briefly came back after “work” (He’s yet to properly understand what that means exactly) to change into your raincoat, there was no odd scent on you either. This means this must have happened when you were out….hunting.
….
….
….
…What if….What if….Someone did do this to you?
The thunder sounded muffled beyond the thick weeping clouds that embraced the still night sky. The little droplets of the rain splatter repeatedly against the windows, creating a lull lullaby that never fails to calm him down a little. Mr. Crawling tilted his head forward, his long black hair curtains over his face, further casting a shadow over his gray features. His posture didn’t express anything. One of those uncanny moments where it was difficult to differentiate what exactly he may be feeling. But with no one to redirect his flooding emotions at, he’ll dump them on you. Since you’re the source of his complicated and warped bird’s nest sentiments.
The flow of the blood was still oozing, though rather slow and steady. However, if he were to hesitate any longer, the crimson would soil and ruin the sheets, leaving a bigger mess for Y/n to deal with when she wakes up. Mr. Crawling’s long arms rose, the black sleeves of his robe rising up his forearms, and his hands hovered over your skin. The chill of him ghosted on your heat, causing goosebumps to ripple across your flesh as a reaction. Mr. Crawling pressed the palm of his hands on the exposed skin of your thighs. They slid further down to your knees, gently nudging them open to give him easier access.
This movement further exposed you to him which honestly made Mr. Crawling wonder if he truly had the self-control to go about this.
Nonetheless, he pressed forward.
Mr. Crawling kept his hands on your knees, only allowing himself to brace you there as he leaned in towards your sacred bleeding areas. His mouth parts open, the tip of his gray-ashen tongue pokes out, and he laps up the smudged crimson mess that collected on your inner thighs. He left streaks of wetness along your skin the more he licked the blood off you. With each small stride of his tongue, the more it went up, nearing the goal that sought his entire attention and care. Mr. Crawling’s face was impossibly close to your intimate areas now, to the point where with each breath he inhaled and exhaled out, it fanned on you. The taste of the blood was mildly different, more tangy but his tastebuds were gleaming with satisfaction. He can feel himself beginning to slowly develop a preference.
Mr. Crawling’s tongue made contact with your outer vaginal lip and that finally causes you to stir. However, preoccupied, he fails to notice the subtle twitching signs that you are waking up. Your sleep-crusted eyes pried open lazily but as your eyelids lifted, they only fell back down close. You struggled to fully wake up for a moment before the uncomfortable cold eventually took a toll on you. You grunt, your arm darting out to the sides of the bed to feel for your blanket. However, when you couldn’t find it within reach, you cracked your eyes open to look for it.
But, instead of seeing your blanket thrown somewhere on the bed, your eyes immediately drift towards the unbelievable sight of Mr. Crawling between your exposed thighs. You blink. Your eyes stared blankly, frozen disbelief aimed towards your lover. Struggling to process what was happening, you semi-convinced yourself that you had to still be dreaming. Because there was no way that this was happening. This was all a fucked up wet dream. Then, you feel a warm wet lick stride along your pussy lip and that was enough to shatter the delusion. A flush of heat explodes in your cheeks, “What the HELL are you doing?!” You exclaim loudly in English, your hand darting out and slapping directly onto Mr. Crawling’s forehead and pushing his head back from your groin like a bad cat trying to nip a bite of your food.
Mr. Crawling flinches hard when he finds out you’re awake. He pulls back, not wincing at your hand pushing his head back and his neck craning in an odd angle. He hardly even felt it because shame and concern were still the prominent emotions that numbed his senses. He turns his head downwards, his hands still gripping onto your knees. “….You….hurt?…Blood….” He tries to explain, pointing a gray finger towards the bloody mess between your thighs. “Me help…Me lick…All better….” He mumbles, telling you that he only wanted to help your situation. He truly didn’t mean to offend you in any way.
You squinted your eyes at him. You look down at your lower body, mentally groaning at how getting the blood off the sheets was going to be a royal pain in the ass. “….Me hurt?…” You questioned, frowning as you looked back at him. You weren’t hurt. It was nothing you haven’t dealt with before. Sure, cramps were awful sometimes but there was not much you could do against them other than the usual heating pad and pain relievers. Your menstrual cycle tends to be on the heavier side so dealing with the blood flow was the hardest each month….Oh.
Oh shit.
You blink when the realization dawns on you. It’s barely been a month since you've been living with Mr. Crawling. He’s just getting used to human behaviors and society but there’s still a lot he doesn't know. Basic human functions and cycles are a blur scale. He doesn’t know what a menstrual cycle was and with that bloodhound nose, he must have smelled the blood on you. He mistook you for being physically injured.
You’re aware that Mr. Crawling licks his injuries. Hell, he licks anything blood-related. Why didn’t it occur to you that he would obviously do something like this? Maybe you figured he respected your space too much to not even attempt but his concern often overrides anything. Not that you minded too much honestly. Mr. Crawling is your boyfriend. There was going to be a time when he saw you naked. But still, during a time like this? Certainly unexpected.
You sighed, lying back on your elbows as you stared at the sad-puppy expression he had on. Mr. Crawling was kneeling still at the foot of the bed. He loomed over you but despite his ridiculous size, he will crumble to your whims like a house of cards if you decide you want him to. “…Not…hurt.” You finally tell him, keeping your expression void of emotion. Mr. Crawling tilted his head but it was obvious he didn’t believe you. “You…hurt…” He counters back, pointing again to your bloody genitals.
“Human girl….this…normal…” You explain slowly, thinking of ways to make him understand somehow. You had some biology books in the antic from your health classes when you were in school. You can show those to him later and explain better with a visual example. Mr. Crawling tilted his head to the other side like a confused puppy, “Blood…normal…human girl?” He questions, almost in disbelief. Mr. Crawling can’t believe that bleeding is a normal thing for human women. That just doesn’t sound right. Humans are not supposed to bleed and neither are the creatures from the other world. Other than sustaining a wound, no one just bleeds randomly….right?
You just shrugged, unsure how to explain it in his language without visual evidence. You will just show him later and properly make him understand when you’re not half naked and bleeding all over the sheets. You lay back down, resting your head on the plush pillow. Your half-lidded eyes stayed on Mr. Crawling, noting quietly how awkward he seemed to be currently. He’s unsure what to do next. You can tell he was still staring at your nudity, probably wondering why you haven’t covered up by now. In honesty, you would have if you two weren’t this far into the relationship. However, this sort of thing has been on your mind recently.
Intimacy. Sex.
You wondered Mr. Crawling’s understanding of it. He may have some basic knowledge about it since creatures in the other world were quite boldly lewd when it came to “mating.” You were unfortunately exposed to some activities being committed by two creatures when you were randomly opening doors in the other world. So if sex was still a thing there, surely Mr. Crawling would know to some extent?
You were a bit hesitant to ask. You weren’t sure what his stance on it either.
Fuck it, If I get rejected then so be it.
Your legs part slightly, just enough for it to be a tease. Mr. Crawling shamelessly turns his head down to peer between your legs. He wasn’t hiding the fact that he was staring…or maybe he just forgot to pretend. “….Me pretty?” You ask, the foreign language effortlessly rolling off your tongue. It was almost a mock the way you said it. After all, it seemed like something was interesting about your body that Mr. Crawling couldn’t seem to stop gawking. This is his first time seeing you without the confines of your clothing.
“….Very….pretty,” He replies almost immediately. There was no denying that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever set his focus on. He likes every version of you. But with the moon seeping through the crack blinds and the way the shine reflects off your body, he couldn’t help but think you look like a goddess at this very moment.
”You…want…me?” You ask again, moving back up to lean on your elbows. You can see the way Mr. Crawling’s adams apple bobs when he understands the context of your words. His fingers twitch in his lap as if they were aching to reach over and touch you. It took every single of his fiber left in his body to not just grab you with greed. He needs your explicit permission. “Very…want…you,” Mr. Crawling mumbles, his voice lower as if he was nervous to say it. If his heart could still beat, it would have found a way out of his chest right at this very moment. The previous giddy feeling that he had managed to suppress was back and in full effect, making Mr. Crawling squirm on the bed with buzzing nerves.
You smile at him, noting how affected he seemed to be already with just an exchange of words. You spread your thighs wider, your legs moving far apart and boldly displaying your messy bloody cunt to your lover who remains still as a board on the foot of your bed. “….Please…me,” You order, tilting your head to gauge Mr. Crawling’s reaction in both expression and body language. You have never been intimate before on your period and honestly, you never would have if your lover wasn’t Mr. Crawling. It made sense with him. Your other-worldly boyfriend is someone who can handle such a messy thing.
Mr. Crawling’s brain short-circuited the second he heard the words “please me.” In all of the years, he remembered having a conscience, this was the first time he had never heard those words being said to him. And he would be damned if he didn’t snatch up that opportunity the moment he has it. Without missing a second longer, Mr. Crawling shifts his position on the bed and lies down on his stomach. He slots himself between your opened thighs, resuming the posture he was in just moments prior. You blink in mild surprise at his quiet eagerness. The way he didn’t question it further and acted instead of seeking answers. It was like…he had been waiting for the moment to strike. You didn’t oppose either, keeping your expression neutral and observant while you waited for what he would do next.
Mr. Crawling places his cold hands on your thighs, his thumb creating soft indents in your skin from how firmly he was grabbing you. It was clear he wasn't going to let you go until you were completely satisfied and he had his fill. Mr. Crawling felt gleeful, his usual wide-mouth grin stretched even larger when he leans in closer to your slick cunt of blood and juices that formed as a result of your growing arousal. His black tongue lolls out—while before he only let the tip part from his lips, this time he fully relieved just how long his tongue really was. It had to be the same length as your hand, palm to fingers. Maybe longer. Now you understand why Mr. Crawling never bothers with spoons or forks.
He flattens his tongue against your slick folds and he licks a long slow stride up, making your thighs shudder. Mr. Crawling feasted like he had known no supper. As if your dripping cunt was the only source of nutrition left in this rotten world. He eagerly lapped up the tangy mix of your juices and blood, whimpering hoarsely at the flavor of you. There was no rhythm to his motions, he did whatever he felt was right and given your reactions, he must be doing a hell of a job.
You moan quietly, biting onto your bottom lip as your hands fly to grab anything. One held the sheets and the other grabbed a handful of Mr. Crawling’s hair. You tried not to yank too harshly, however, when the tip of his tongue flicked over your swollen pearl, you couldn’t help but tighten your grip. Your fingers pull the roots of his hair and he unexpectedly whines high-pitched against your flesh. It was a particular sound you hadn’t heard from him. It sounded needy and rather whorish. Your pupils dilate and you give him another sharp tug. Mr. Crawling flinches, hot tingles running through him and settling in his lower groin when that ache spreads through his tender scalp. The way your nails scraped against his head, purposely making it throb in subtle pain was making him discover something about himself. Mr. Crawling would have never figured he liked having his hair pulled like this.
Mr. Crawling’s tongue swirls in small circles around your clit before he latches his mouth your little twitching bud. He begins to suckle gently, making wet kissing noises with the repeated motions of his mouth. “Fuck- Goddamn it,” You groan in English, unable to help yourself and your hips twitch upwards, trying to grind against his mouth. Mr. Crawling lets his jaw fall back open, flattens his serpent-like muscle against your clit, and he flicks it back and forward. He brings his hands up to gently hold your squirming hips down, whimpering muffled when you tug harshly at his hair again.
Mr. Crawling’s tongue dipped against your twitching entrance. Your mouth parts open to pant, eyes half-lidded with desire as you stared down at your lover between your legs. Mr. Crawling is a large man, inhumanly and unconventionally tall and he isn’t able to stand upright in your apartment. Every part of this man is big, his hands, his torso, his thighs…however, in this moment, in the position that he was in, you couldn’t deny that he looked so helplessly small. You almost couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him. You lifted your left leg and draped your calf over Mr. Crawling’s shoulder. You did the same with your right and fully enclosed his head between your thighs. Mr. Crawling pulls away from your cunt briefly to turn his head upwards to you.
You stared back down at him, the certain angle of the moonlight made your eyes impossibly dark. “Lick.” You order, your tone holding no space for retaliation. A shiver flashes down his spine and he dips his head back to be smothered in your pussy. One of his hands slips from your hips and moves toward your mouth. With his middle and index finger, Mr. Crawling gently spreads your pussy lips open so he could have easier access to your hole. He laps at the blood beginning to ooze from your entrance before the tip of his tongue begins to slither inside of the silken, tight, pulsating heat. You moan rather loudly, your eyes almost rolling back as you feel the slimy flexible tongue being pushed inside you. And it was inside deep.
You cross your ankles around Mr. Crawling’s head, bringing him close until his nose is flushed to your mound. He was completely trapped under your whims, unable to do anything other than please you. His tongue wiggled inside your clamping wall, continuously grazing over your sweet sensitive spots that were usually so difficult to find. “O-oh, my god-“ Your voice breaks, switching to your language as your hips buckle into his face. Your hand slides to the back of Mr. Crawling’s head and your fingers gripped at his hair. “So fuckin’ good, Crawly- God, I should have sat on your face sooner,” You slur, faintly aware that Mr. Crawling won’t be able to understand you.
Overwhelming pleasure fogged up your head like mist on hazing up windows. You were so damn sure that this is his first time doing this, his inexperienced ministrations and sloppy licks were obvious yet the messiness of it all was so good. The way his nose bumps against your clit and his breathing fans over it, the way his hands grasped at your thighs like he’s trying to anchor himself, and the way his cold fingers traced over the curve of your hips to your thighs memorizing the shape of you in blatant worship is all so heavenly.
The fire in his loins was unbearable. The heat traveled throughout his body like wildfire to a dry field. It cackled at his nerves and sizzled in the pit of his abdomen. The organ between his legs was raising and fattening as the heat smothered him whole. Moving his tongue in small but sloppy movements, the lewd sounds of wet juices mixed with crimson squelching and your unrestraint noses bubbling from you like the most melodic orchestra were getting to him. It was driving him insane, the ache was too unbearable. Mr. Crawling wanted to focus on your pleasure alone but he was giving in to his own.
He slid his lower torso down slightly and subtly so the edge of the bed was firmly against his groin. Mr. Crawling sharply intakes a whiff of air when he ground his hips down, his hardened length hidden behind his black robe rubbing against the material of his clothing and the edge of the mattress. His fingers twitched against your skin and he tilted his head to the side, thrusting his tongue in a different angle that made you tighten your thighs around his head. Mr. Crawling’s hips shifted, applying pressure against the surface, and with each slow uncoordinated grind, his muffled whining got more frequent. Through the fog of your pleasure, you noticed. The new movements of Mr. Crawling’s body. He moved oddly and if you weren’t paying attention closely, the motions were almost unnoticeable. However, you can see that Mr. Crawling was grinding himself against the edge of the bed. He was hardly thrusting, more like lightly shifting his hips in small tight circular motions, and yet, he was whimpering heavily against your cunt.
It doesn’t take much to get him wet down there. Mr. Crawling always found himself extremely reactive and sensitive. He can feel that spot of his robe getting damped. Weeps of precum dripping from the slit of his throbbing cock soiled the front of his clothing. The friction of the material roughly pushing and rasping against his shaft, brushing over his pulsating veins and his flushed tip brought tingling sparks to fly across his ribcage. Your abdomen tensed as another wave of arousal crashed over you from witnessing the sight. “Such a naughty pup, so cute and pathetic,” You coo in English, your hands transitioning from your grip to smoothing over into an almost condescending pat. “You cute…helpless…cute,” You attempt to translate it into Mr. Crawling’s language. He mewls into your messy flesh.
One of his hands leaves your thigh and snakes down his own body. He begins to open his black tattered robe enough to slide his hand inside. He reaches his throbbing cock and his fingers wrap around his tip. In clumsy erratic movements, Mr. Crawling rubs himself as he made little suckles around your clit. You were trying to hold off as much as you could, drawn to the sight of your lover also touching himself while he pleased you. But the sight was riling you up further and your orgasm was peeking.
“Good boy…Good Crawing- Ah, keep doing that fuck-“ You gasp out, babbling as the corners of your vision begin to blur. Your body locks up, tensing and your thighs squeeze around Mr. Crawling’s head. Your mouth drops open, dripping a lewd moan when your orgasm wracks through your frame. Your eyes semi-roll back, drool almost escaping the corners of your mouth when the dopamine crashes. Your walls throbbed and pulsate with the lingering remnants of your climax and the tingling oversensitivity kicks in when Mr. Crawling keeps sucking. Clenching your teeth and softly hissing, you gently nudged his head away while unwrapping your legs from around his head. “Good…you good…pleased me,” You mumble, your voice husky. That was your best orgasm in a while.
Mr. Crawling pulls away from between your inner thighs. His lips and chin were drenched in blood, almost like how he looked after his dinner. Needless to say, Mr. Crawling is a messy eater in every circumstance. Raising a lazy hand, you pointed to the side where the box of tissues sat on the nightstand. Mr. Crawling wordlessly follows your quiet order and leans over - his entire frame hovering over you as he plucks a single napkin to dap his lower face. You hum, content. Your eyes were beginning to droop slightly, exhaustion and the afterglow of your orgasm starting to embrace you.
Once he finishes wiping off the evidence of what just transpired seconds ago, Mr. Crawling tosses the used napkin onto the ground. He shifts, moving up properly on the bed. He kneels between your legs again and he leans down, his entire large form nearly dropping on you as he nuzzles the tip of his nose into the curve of your neck. Mr. Crawling exhales, blowing warm air onto your skin and his hands slide up the bottom hem of your skirt. You shiver, peeling your eyes open to register the feeling of your lover’s fingers lightly squeezing the soft flesh of your tummy. Greedy but hesitant movements. Your eyes move to stare at the ceiling above you and your right hand comes up to gently pat Mr. Crawling on the back of his head. He melts further from your gesture. However, suddenly, his body jolts almost violently when your knee lifts and ever so slightly brushes over that damped hard spot in his lower torso. Your fingers transformed from the gentle strokes of his hair into a tight small grip that pulled at his scalp.
Mr. Crawling’s hips buckled, making your body jolt because of how he was pressed against you. You turn your head to the right, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear. “…Yourself…touch,” You mumble, your voice trickling into his ear. Mr. Crawling shakily inhales and while keeping his face buried in your neck, his hands fly up and frantically open his black robe. His trembling fingers pull apart the parts of his clothing that cover his nudity and he quickly wraps his hand around his length. It was fully hard, the blueish-gray shaft adored with pulsating veins and the tip continuously weeping glob after glob of pearly precum that rolled down his length. Mr. Crawling’s fingers close around his flushed red tip and he starts to stroke.
“Need…Need…Good…Me…Me Good…Please…Need-“ Mr. Crawling squeaks, his voice growing more high-pitched with each word. His hips rut erratically and sloppily into his tight fist, creating a wet slicking squelch that joined with the sounds of thunder outside. His whiny cries and desperate heavy panting echo in your ear, his body trembling as he tries to keep himself steady. His knees were wobbling and while a large part of him was dumbed by pleasure, there was a side to him that didn’t want to drop his weight and accidentally crush you. Therefore, even with the strain of his thighs, Mr. Crawling kept his body hovering over yours as he fucked into his hand. You took pity on your lover, he looked so cute being this desperate for some help. You cave and lift your hand, your fingers gently graze over the exposed skin of his bare sides. You felt how the muscles under his flesh spasm upon the faintest breeze of your touch. You trailed down further to the goal and the tips of your fingers brushed over the dark happy trail that littered his pelvis. With your thumb, you made contact and you pressed down hard on Mr. Crawling’s tip, swiping across the drooling slit.
With a sharp gasp and his balls tightening up, Mr. Crawling’s hips buckled uncontrollably and his free hand suddenly bunched up the sheets beside your head. His mouth drops open and a string of saliva escapes his lolled tongue as splatters of white squirts from his tip and land directly onto your pussy, adding to the mess of your blood and juices. “Mrgh…ah…y-y-you-“ He struggles his say, his voice trailing off with high-pitched whines and mewls that almost didn’t sound like him at all. You raised your eyebrows in genuine surprise. You didn’t expect him to cum that quickly from your slightest touch. Maybe, he was just that riled up. You reached up, patting his head gently and calming him from down through the aftershocks of his climax.
Gently, Mr. Crawling lowers and moves to the side. He lies down finally, his body immediately melting at your side the second he can rest. He snuggles close to you and places his head on your chest, tilting his chin up to give you a sleepy smile. You returned with one of your own.
With drooping eyes, you kept petting him until the two of you were drifting off with the comfortable sounds of the soft rumbles of the thunder hiding behind the weeping clouds in the night sky.
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