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mayajadewrites · 1 month

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Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Five: Arrangement

The work day is finally over and you could not be more relieved to go home. Levi piled on work for you already - you’ve been scheduling meetings for him all day while also making sure the office is clean.

Not to mention he’s been avoiding you like the plague.

You packed up your tote, gently sliding your laptop in the bag. When you look up you see Levi exiting his office, locking the door behind him.

For the first time in hours, he looked at you. He looks… exhausted. You notice the dark circles under his eyes as he starts walking toward you.

Your eyes locked with his and time felt like it stopped. You were almost consumed by the way he looked at you.

You cleared your throat to break the tension - although you wanted to throw yourself on him and let him devour your body.

“Let’s go.” He said lowly as he gripped his briefcase. You nod and follow him, careful not to walk next to him.

Silence.

That was all you heard the entire night.

Silence.

You can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong. Maybe Levi regrets giving you a chance at a job. After all, you’re just a broke woman who was desperate for a job.

You let out a deep sigh that you felt like you were holding in for hours. Just then, your phone pings with a message from your sister.

> How was your first day?!

It was regular. A lot of work but my coworkers seem nice. <

> I’m so happy for you! I’m going out tonight, just watch my location for me please!

Lex… please be careful. <

Your sister always worried you when she went out. She has a tendency to drink until she can’t see anymore. She’s 18, so you don’t blame her, but she’s already mixing herself in the wrong crowd.

She’s legally an adult now. Nothing more you can do.

You turn your phone’s volume up in case Alexis calls you, but you fall asleep praying that that call never comes.

______________________________

The next week you feel like you’re walking on eggshells around Levi, but you’re getting work done and you haven’t seemed to upset him just yet. Even Erwin is impressed with what you’ve done so far.

“We’re gonna have to get you to master Levi’s cup of tea.” Erwin joked as he took a sip of his coffee. “He’s quite particular.”

“Don’t I know it.” You laugh as you finish replenishing the break room with supplies. “I don’t even dare try to make it for him. He would probably spit it right out.”

You can’t help but feel like you’re missing Levi. The conversations you’re having with him are very one sided, and always about work. It’s not the same Levi you spent time with. It’s the Levi that everyone else sees.

You haven’t cooked together all week. He hasn’t brought you tea since the first day. Once you arrive home, it’s almost like you don’t exist. He sometimes needs you to call someone at home, but he’ll text you the instructions.

__________________________

You’re doing you’re daily cleaning at the house when you hear Levi’s footsteps.

“Oi, come here.” Levi called for you in the kitchen.

“Yes Levi?” You stand next to him, not sure what he’s going to say next.

“I have something I want to run by you, and you can say no.”

“Okay…” You raise an eyebrow, placing your hands on the counter.

“How would you feel about… an arrangement between you and I?”

“Excuse me?”

“An… arrangement.”

“I heard what you said.” Your eyes wander to his. “You have to be more specific. What kind of arrangement?”

“One where I give you money and you do things with me.”

“I already work for you.”

“No.” Levi shakes his head. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you come with me to events, vacations, and I give you money. Or an… allowance.”

“I’m confused. You already pay me-“

“To be my assistant, yes.” Levi plants his hands on the counter, looking down at his fingertips. “You and I get along quite well I think.”

“I would say so.”

“I don’t usually like anyone. And I like you.” Levi peers through his jet black locks to look at you. “I’m offering money for you spending time with me.”

You’re stunned. This man really thinks you’re a charity case. The last thing you want from Levi is his money just because you’re broke.

“I don’t want your money, Levi.”

“I know you send your sister money.” Levi crossed his arms over his chest. “And I know you want to experience all that life has to offer. I can give that to you, no emotions attached.”

“I’m not a tax write off, Levi. You can’t help me to make yourself feel better.”

“I’m not doing this for me. Well, I kind of am. I’ve done this arrangement before with women but they were only interested in the money. We could never talk - I don’t think they ever even stepped foot in my house.”

You look at Levi who looks… vulnerable. You want to hug him so tightly it feels like you’re glued to him.

“You’ve… done this before?”

“Yeah. I’m not good at connecting with people.”

“So you’ve paid for se-“

“If we had sex, it was consensual and I did not pay for it.” Levi tilted his head to the side. “It was a bonus.”

You nod your head, thinking about what this ‘arrangement’ entails. You’re already his assistant, and already living in his house.

It would be nice to go on vacation once in a while. You’ve never actually been on vacation before. The farthest you’ve gone was a dirty beach 30 minutes from your house that your parents dragged you to just so they could get their fix.

“If I agree to this, we need to make rules.” You finally speak.

“Fire away.” Levi’s voice sounds like velvet.

This man knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No markings. Where anyone can see, at least.”

You peaked Levi’s interest at the words ‘where anyone can see’. His eyebrows raised as he took a mental note of your rule.

“Go on.” Levi tapped the counter with his fingertips.

“I do not want special treatment at work. I would rather it be… our little secret.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“I want to sleep in my own bed. So no sharing beds even after we…”

“Fuck?”

“Levi.” You roll your eyes. “IF we do.”

You know damn well that if is more like a when.

“Do you have any rules you would like to present to the court today?” You press your chin to the palm of your hand, leaning over the counter.

“No affection outside of bedroom activities. This is a transaction almost - no emotions. Don’t expect me to kiss you good morning or any of that shit.”

“Okay. Can I date other people or would you rather me not?”

Your question seemed to have stumped Levi. He searched your face for an answer because he couldn’t come up with one himself.

“For now, if you find someone you want to pursue, tell me. If you’re sleeping with someone else I would rather you not sleep with me also.”

You nod as you hold your hand out. “So we have a deal?”

Levi chuckles only for a second before shaking your hand. “Deal.”

As Levi turns around, you think about what you just agreed to. Levi Ackerman is not only your boss, but he’s also your sugar daddy. Ymir would be so proud of you right now, while Historia would be silently judging.

You can’t lie, you’ve thought about pressing your lips to Levi’s pillow soft ones – exploring every inch of his body. His callused hands massaging your thighs while sneaking in squeezes to your ass.

Your eyes linger to Levi’s back once again, observing the way his muscles are moving under his black t-shirt. Your eyes then went to his neck, then his undercut that’s begging to be touched.

To distract yourself from the heat that’s pooling in your core, you text Ymir.

> Ymir.

Don’t start off a conversation like that. What’s up? <

> My boss is now also my sugar daddy.

INCOMING CALL FROM YMIR

You almost run to your room and close the door behind you.

“Bitch I text you for a reason!!” You half whisper.

“You cannot just text me that Levi Ackerman is now your sugar daddy and not expect me to call you! I didn’t think you had it in you kid!”

“We just discussed it. He brought it up.”

“That’s probably why he was so quiet with you this week.” Ymir says as she pulls the phone between her ear and shoulder. “He wanted to make sure that he knew what he wanted and what he wanted to say to you.”

“I’m nervous, Ymir.”

“Girl you are living the DREAM! I know I like women but Levi is a handsome ass man. And you don’t have to worry about him feeling some type of way about anything because there are no emotions!”

You don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

You hear Levi’s footsteps going up the stairs, making your heart race.

“I gotta go.”

“Tell me how big his di-“ You hang up, throwing your phone on your bed. You pretend to be folding your laundry when you hear a knock.

“Come in.”

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re okay with everything.” Levi leaned against the doorframe. “I know it was out of the blue. Well, for you at least.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay with it. I’m okay with this.” You nod, finally looking at Levi. His eyes are already on you when your gazes meet. Your heart starts to beat a bit faster.

In the back of your mind you still wonder if this is just to fuel Levi’s ego. You don’t know this man. You don’t know his motives.

Levi silently walks to you, analyzing your face. You watch his grey eyes linger on your skin, as if he’s exploring new territory. His hand reaches to your hair and pushes it behind your ear softly, sending chills down your spine.

You peer through your lashes, getting lost in Levi’s eyes. You could stare at him for hours without getting bored.

This no affection thing might be your downfall.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #ceo levi ackerman #sugardaddy levi

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gasolinerainbowreads · 8 months

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I am trying to get better about organizing all the fic I read! (My drafts still sit at a hefty number lol.)

↓ ICON LEGEND ↓

🌈 = title 🪆 = series, multiple parts, etc. 🔋 = make sure your vibrator is charged before reading 😈 = Horny Demon Hours™ approved 🥹 = hurts so good/ouch, my feelings 🧠 = did somethin to my brain/altered my brain chemistry

Here's what I read in August along with a comment and/or a favorite excerpt:

@cavillscurls

🌈Pretty Prey 🔋😈-- Joel Miller x afab!reader "Tears spring to your waterline as he bruises into your cervix, the grunts and murmurs of that’s it, take it baby, can see the outline of my cock against your tummy all indication of his enjoyment."

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Catalyst 🪆🔋😈-- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales “Tastes damn good, doesn’t it?” Joel says, and Frankie lets out a quiet, desperate whine. “Good boy.” 🌈Some Part of Me Came Alive 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales Joel runs his fingers through Frankie’s hair when he pulls of off of him, cupping his cheeks and brushing his thumbs over his jaw. It's like that first kiss all over again--there's such profound relief Joel has to fight back tears. It doesn't matter that he's new to this--it's all so right because it's Frankie. 🌈Breakfast 🪆🥹 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales plzzzzz this is so fucking perfect and sweet and good and i wanna devour it

@netherfeildren

🌈Forfeiting My Mystique 🥹🧠 -- Ezra x F!Reader “It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.” 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 1 🪆🔋😈 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 2 🪆 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. 🌈Greener Memories of Better Men 🔋🥹-- Joel Miller x F!Reader This whole entire thing is heart-wrenching and amazing.

@swiftispunk

🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 4 - Sand 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER “Just ask nice, baby, I’ll give you whatever you need.” THIS MAN IS A MENACE. 🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 5 - New 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER "Suck," you instruct him, stronger now, more desperate as he draws pleasure from you with what's clearly practiced care. "Good girl," he hums lowly, like he's genuinely proud of your confidence, like he really does want this for you. WHEN'S IT GONNA BE MY TURN?! HUHHH???????

@strang3lov3

🌈Hibachi 🪆🔋😈-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This whole entire thing is *CHEF'S KISS* 🌈Are We Going To Talk About It? 🪆🥹-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This time, you will be loved like you deserve. & You are safe here with me. 🌈Come To Jesus Moment 🪆🧠 -- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) Every time she says sorry to Jesus I howl.

@thetriumphantpanda

🌈Come Away with Me, Monday 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller OH MY GOD i am obsessed with this whole dynamic. 🌈In The Woods Somewhere, Ch 1 🪆-- Joel Miller x F!Reader plzzzzzzzz she never missesssssssss jfc

@frannyzooey

🌈Short Days, Long Nights 12 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel Miller x f!reader this shit just fucking CHANGES MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY every fucking time I read it

@joelscruff

🌈Needy Baby 🪆🔋😈😈😈😈😈😈🥹🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader bro. MY GUY. MY SISTREN. this is ... this is the hottest smust ive ever read. idc. this whole story is amazing, and then THIS??? i can't even fucking think straight

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Surrender, Ch 10 🪆🔋🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy She flushed read from her neck to her ears. "I don't know, exactly. I just don't want to embarrass you." Daisy had a habit of casually saying things that shattered his heart. Why did she think he'd be embarrassed? PLZZZZZZ. This fucking series KILLS ME. Daisy is my homegirl, and i will fight anybody who disagrees that she is SUPREME. 🌈Surrender, Ch 11 🪆🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy All the fears she’d worked so hard to push away returned, magnified by the memory of Joel’s lips all over her skin. He’d held her and made love to her and kissed her all over and then he left her here alone. He said he needed her, too, and then he left her here. Alone. *screams like an injured pterodactyl*

@bageldaddy

🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 3 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader But growing up a girl meant getting used to the idea that sometimes sex was painful. You’re so used to men moving with violence, with contempt. In real life, so much of fucking felt like hate, it’s not exactly a surprise to find that sometimes the same thing is true in porn. 🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 4 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader the smut in this part is so hot you are guaranteed to feel your heartbeat in your pussy lmao

@chloeangelic

🌈Yes, Father IV 🪆🔋-- Priest!Joel Miller x Priest!Javier Peña x housewife!reader the way he takes her to their bedroom instead of the guest bedroom made me wanna punch a wall what a menace lmao love it 🌈Belong To Me, Chosen 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Line cook Joel x waitress reader the breeding kink .... DO NOT READ WHILE OVULATION im being so for real when i say that

@softlyspector

🌈Decaf 🪆🥹🧠 -- tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader this whole entire series is so delicate and intricate. i am obvs a huge slut and love smut, but this story doesn't even need it. it's so, so good.

@breakfastatjoels

🌈A Bird in Your Teeth, Epilogue 🪆🥹-- joel miller x f!reader this was the perfect ending to an AMAZING story. plz read this if you haven't already!!!!

@walkintotheriveranddisappear

🌈And His Car Is a Piece of Shit 🪆🥹-- joel miller x fem reader the angst in this one is CHEF'S KISS 🌈Total Satisfaction, from the Comfort of Your Own Home 🪆🔋-- joel miller x afab reader a man that will dick you down with a possessive edge and then do handyman jobs around the house?? sign me the fuck up

@darkroastjoel

🌈A Safe Haven, Ch 8 🪆🥹 -- Joel Miller x Female Reader; Ellie Williams x Platonic Female Reader this is like my all-time fave comfort fic 100%. it's ongoing, but i have read each existing part several times lol

@tieronecrush

🌈Only Angel, Ch 1 🪆-- javier peña x f!reader the whole concept is so good, and i love all the detail! also, the part where she emailed him about a mistake in the syllabus had me fucking rolling. NERD.

@psychedelic-ink

🌈You Hate It That You Love Me 🪆🥹 -- stripper!jack daniels x f!reader this whole series was so angsty and delicious. definitely one you will re-read over and over. 🌈Menuet 🔋😈😈😈🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader im so fuckin mad at this story. this shit unlocked a new kink for me and fucked with my brain in the process.

@iamskyereads

🌈Compulsion Pt 5 - Initiation 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- EZRA (PROSPECT) X OFC BEATRICE I. AM. OBSESSSED. This fucking fic... I cannot BELIEVE I get to just come on this website and read shit of this caliber FOR FREE?!?!!?! insane

@party-hearses

🌈Relax, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader if Joel called me princesa id be fucking DONE gone no thoughts 🌈Don't Be a Brat, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader second part to the above story. such a fun read, and the dialogue is EVERYTHING so cute, sexy at times, playful. just so damn fun to read this!!!

@pascalsbby

🌈The Devil and His Brother, Pt 1 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel x Tommy x Reader again. we get to read this shit. FOR FREE. my fucking mind cannot wrap itself around that fact. so many fucking talented writers in this fandom. thank you thank you thank you for sharing your brilliant, fun works! this story is a wonderful example of "ordinary people" knocking it out of the fucking PARK with their talent.

@cool-iguana

🌈Acting Out 🔋 😈😈😈-- Din x f! reader “Are you now? You forgot to count, though, cyar’ika. Good girls count. Let’s try again from one, no crying.” His tone dripped with condescension as he began again, practically reveling in each gasp and broken sob that spilled from your lips, taking pleasure in each time you stuttered on a number. this is so horny i love it

@mandoisapunk

🌈Ride, Cowgirl 🔋-- Joel Miller x reader i love the dynamics in their relationship and the comfort of switching it up!

@gracieispunk

🌈Bowling Night 🪆🔋-- Maintenance man!joel x f!reader listen, i am ride or die for reader. she's never done anything wrong in her entire life, and i stand by that lmao.

@toomanystoriessolittletime

🌈Revenge 🔋😈-- Dave York x fem. Reader CUCKING!!!! HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#monthly wrap up

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prettyiwa · 11 months

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Hunter!Iwaizumi Hajime x Demon!Reader

rating: SFW content tags: Supernatural!AU, Monsters!AU, Reincarnation, Star-crossed Lovers, Hints of Rivals to Lovers, He remembers nothing, You remember everything word count: 1,100 a/n: This is a snippet of a story I may never actually get to. It's set in the same universe as Tear Into Your Soul (mind the warnings). Partially inspired by this art by Jenna Barton

In the distance, he can clearly make out the wolf’s silhouette, similar in size to the mountains she guards. Regardless of what Oikawa may say, she’s phenomenal, something Iwaizumi can only imagine to be created by the divine and not the damned. This world of theirs is scoured by demons and monsters, vastly outnumbering the humans that have thus far survived this hellscape. Even still, he doesn’t believe that all monsters are spawned by evil.

Maybe it’s as Oikawa says and his unwillingness to kill you is at the heart of it, but he’s learning that not all is as it appears, that not all that looks evil is. Hell, there’s probably truth to Oikawa’s belief—even if Iwaizumi’s apparently going soft, it’s you who first showed him what he’s now discovering. The wolf turns her head, scanning the horizon for threats and he’s struck by the distinct feeling that he’s intruding upon something sacred.

“Be careful.”

It should startle him, should have him on his guard, but your voice produces the opposite effect. He doesn’t need to turn to know that you’re incorporeal right now, nor does he need to ask to know what you mean.

The woods are teeming with predators, all desperate for their next meal. Some are mindless, driven by instinct and the base need to survive, but there are those who are malicious and intentional, cherishing the opportunity to torment their prey. He’s well-equipped to deal with most of them, but he knows there are those who would leap at the opportunity to devour him. Oikawa would argue that you are one of them.

“You won’t protect me?”

There’s a soft snap of twigs behind him, the slight rustling of leaves telling him you’re finally here. “There’s only so much I can protect you from,” you say once you’re right behind him. You carry on without acknowledgment of the shivers you send up his spine, though he knows you’re aware of them. “Besides, I was under the impression you didn’t want my protection.”

He’s not so sure anymore. Without a doubt, you’ll be there should harm ever befall him. You’ve never told him as much, never indicated anything of the sort after your initial meeting, but he knows it with every fiber of his being. If you asked him when he was younger, he would’ve been terrified by the prospect of a demon being there for him, but…

There’s something that soothes his soul, something that eases his anxieties, simply knowing that you exist. Something snapped into place, forcing him to acknowledge that his life without you was incomplete. It terrifies him to the bone just as much as it calms the raging storm that dominates his entire existence.

“Were you waiting for me to be alone, or were you wandering this same forest?”

You step into the peripheral, reminding him of those days when he would see a shadow in the corner of his eye and turn to find nothing. Sometimes you’re like smoke where you’re almost completely intangible, impossible to hold, this only supported by the fact that your true demonic form is obscured by the thick waves of smoke that undulate around you. Other times, you’re painfully real, your presence carrying so much weight it’s impossible to miss, impossible to ignore the way he’s pulled toward you like the moon is its planet. Even if you seem to be little more than a blurry figure at the edges of his line of sight, he can feel you step into place beside him, as sure that you’re real as he is that he’s breathing.

“Are you trying to suggest that this was a coincidence?”

“That’s assuming they exist—”

“They don’t. Nothing is a coincidence and nothing happens by chance,” you say, voice unnaturally cold. “If you allow yourself to believe that there isn’t an actor pulling the strings somewhere, you’ll wind up dead. Again.”

“Again?” he asks, turning to properly face you. You don’t look at him, eyes still ahead though he’s not sure whether you’re seeing what’s in front of you.

You don’t remember, do you?

The words from your first meeting ring in his head and there hasn’t been a time before now that he’s wanted so badly to know what you meant.

“What won’t you tell me?”

“Telling you won’t change anything.”

Grey smoke gathers at your fingertips as it does when you become agitated, though he finds no other trace of agitation on your features. An unusual breeze sweeps through the trees, dragging your smoke with it, leaving you both to watch the unnatural way it moves, circling around you both before blowing in the direction of the wolf.

With it comes a shift in your emotions—that he can sense it is worrying enough. An incredible, soul-crushing sadness swallows you before him and he’s struck by the sheer age of it, by the acute familiarity that comes with it. You two aren’t particularly close, but he feels as though you two have been here a thousand times before and that you two will be here a thousand times more.

He doesn’t love you, but he feels it in his bones—loving you is an inescapable and immutable reality that awaits him.

Something shifts in the distance, something that sends shivers down his spine and screams danger. The collective breath of the forest is held as the wolf stands, all life waiting for her next move. Her shadow covers nearly the entirety of the hill before her, and he’s frozen in place as she turns, the hollowness of her white eyes sharpening as they settle on him.

There’s but a moment’s notice before he’s engulfed in your smoke, in the thick scent of cypress with the barest disruption of something floral. Everything tightens and it becomes difficult to breathe as he’s caught in stasis until he’s certain the ground beneath his feet is different than it was before. He should be alarmed, should feel angered, but the proximity of you makes that impossible. Your smoke starts to clear and he recognizes this place as on the other side of the mountain, somewhere closer to the settlement, somewhere that puts you in danger.

“Don’t die this time, Hajime.”

A whisper, carried on the wind, much more natural than the last. He knows that you’re gone, but his feet carry him forward regardless, body searching for you of its own volition until he stops before a bush much taller than he, much older than the surrounding vegetation.

Before his eyes blooms a single red camellia and the flash of lives he once knew.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #✒.ix writes #✒.always you #hq.✒

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 2 years

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Master Of Puppets

Summary: After you’ve been hiding away in your trailer for days, your best friend Eddie Munson comes to check up on you with ice tea and pizza but things take an emotional turn over your shared love for music and singing together.

Pairing: bestfriend!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Romantic Porn With Plot (18+!) | oral (f receiving),fingering, pulling out, a sexual innuendo containing Robert Plant |, Friends To Lovers, Teeth-rotting Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Vibes, Quite A Good Heap Of Angst, An Ungodly Plethora Of Pet Names Linked To Food, Mentions Of Weed, Talk About Depression, Me Slightly Nerding Out About Music

Word Count: 4.7k (What can I say? My heart has a massive boner for Eddie Munson 🖤)

A/N: Ight, I never really wrote friends to lovers before but here we go! This fic was brought to you by me discovering the existence of watermelon flavored ice tea and devouring a pizza while having absolute Eddie Munson brain rott. Enjoy!

Please consider liking, commenting and reblogging! It means the world to me🌸💞

Feel free to check out my Masterlist!

Tagging: @madstwd thank you for listening to my rambles on Discord and being just as excited as I am about this! @ysmmsy I'm getting to the Animal Kingdom request I swear but can I offer you this in the mean time?

Heavy raindrops hammered onto the roof of your trailer just like the hot tears that were overflowing your lower lash line and cascading down your cheeks. Belly first you had flopped yourself onto your messy bed hours ago and hadn’t really moved since. The oversized Led Zeppelin shirt you counted as one of your very favorites didn’t give you any of the comfort you were longing for so desperately today.

Today wasn’t exactly your day. That’s what you were telling yourself for at least two weeks now. All energy seemed lost, sleep was something that rarely happened and maintaining some sort of social life was clearly out of question entirely. Oh, it had been getting really bad for you again but you refused to accept that this depressive episode was actually happening. You didn’t want it to, of course, but the situation of you laying with one side of your face pressed to the mattress while silently crying told a different story and the rainy madness going on outside served you just fine.

With your trusty teddy bear pressed closely to your chest, you let out a long and tired groan oozing with discomfort. You needed to get a grip, to take a hold of the situation - of yourself for that matter- but the exhaustion of simply being awake that now inhabited each and every muscle didn’t let you. Everything seemed to be too much of an effort. Taking a shower and getting at least halfway dressed 4 hours ago had already felt like running a marathon and you still couldn’t be bothered with getting up again.

Rubbing your puffy face against the sheets to haphazardly wipe away a new flush of tears, you got interrupted by a fast and stern knock on your door. You didn’t react to it with any more than a puzzled frown.

“Ey, pumpkin! Open up!” The muffled voice of a certain Eddie Munson rang through the thin walls.

Your closest friend since you set foot into Hawkins High hammered his palm against the door again after you said or did absolutely nothing.

“C’mon, I know you are there!” he argued, “You left your bathroom light on.”

From an indistinct point where you’d been busy staring holes into the air, your gaze shot down the short floor to your bathroom door and Eddie was right. A telltale beam of soft, warm light illuminated the gap between the door and the wooden ground.

“Fuck…” You muttered under your breath but still didn't bother to move. Maybe he’d let you alone if you just did nothing long enough.

“Hey, I’m getting wet out here, sweet pea!” Eddie tried to convince you, “But you know what’s worse? That nice, hot pepperoni pizza I’m having here is getting soggy if you don’t open up soon.”

“Hmm…” You pondered with yourself for a moment at the announcement of hot pizza in your severe lack of breakfast or lunch.

“May I add that I brought ice tea and a fat joint too?” You could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice even through the thundering rain, “That’s a deal you absolutely DO NOT want to miss!”

“Smug asshole.” You sighed while rolling your eyes. He got you and both of you knew.

“ALRIGHT, jeez.” You answered eventually before you rolled yourself onto your back and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

You knew that you probably looked like you got hit by a bus and that Eddie would turn to-the-moon-and-back concerned in no time but in exchange for a good slice of pepperoni pizza and a hit of pot you felt somewhat ready to handle that.

After you finally dragged yourself off the bed, you waddled towards the front door. Before you opened it, you took one deep breath to steady yourself for the wave of worried attention that was about to hit you.

“Can’t even mope around in peace, can I?” You started with a humoristic remark to play right over your disheveled looks.

“Love you too, pumpkin-” Eddie was about to lean in and press an obligatory smooch to your forehead but he stopped right in his tracks as his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

He inspected you for a moment before his eyes dropped down to your hands. Chapped black nail polish, chewed off fingernails and sore cuticles from nervously picking away at the delicate skin. He didn’t need to see more to know what was going on. Eddie had seen you like this plenty of times. He was the only one you’d let close enough into your life to see you like that.

“Oh..” It left his lips in a soft murmur.

You knew that he wasn’t passing any judgment over the state you were in yet it still pulled at your heartstrings to see the apprehension in his features rising.

“Alright.” He shrugged his leather jacket-clad shoulders ever so slightly to snap himself out of his thoughts “Let’s get you to eat and drink something.”

With that you stepped back and made room for him to enter the trailer you called home. Without further ado, Eddie passed you by, heading for the bedroom where you watched him toss the pizza box onto the mattress before sliding his backpack off. It hit the floor with a dull thud, indicating at least two bottles of the advertised ice tea.

Without saying anything, you followed your friend, taking a seat right next to the pizza carton from where you watched him roaming around in your shelves like he lived here himself. It didn’t bother you because he was allowed to and there was nothing hidden between books, vinyls and VHS tapes Eddie hadn’t seen yet. After flipping through a carefully collected and cherished array of Mötley Crüe, Led Zeppelin and last but not least Queen records, he reached your Metallica vinyls at the end of the shelf. With a gentle yet professional frown he pondered over Kill ‘Em All before his finger hovered towards the striking blue cover sleeve of Ride The Lightning. His lips pouted slightly as his eyes switched from Ride The Lightning to the newest addition to your collection: Master Of Puppets.

54 glorious minutes of head-banging, vocal-cord-trashing, toe-curling metal goodness straight from the heavens.

It had taken about one listen to it for Eddie and you to hopelessly fall under its spell.

“Go ahead, we both know it’s going to be Master Of Puppets anyway.” You tried to joke as you reached down to grab his backpack.

In a swift pull you dragged it towards you, unzipped it and fished for the ice tea.

“Watermelon?!” You arched your brows to a skeptical frown, “Where the hell did you get watermelon flavored ice tea, Eds?”

“At the store, duh.” Eddie winked at you in a teasing manner, “I thought we’d be a bit experimental and try something new.”

“Experimental sounds about right..” You muttered, unscrewed the bottle and took a deep swig.

“And?” Eddie looked at you in expectation before you had even swallowed.

“It’s not…bad.” You confessed after unconsciously smacking your lips and rolling your tongue against the top of your mouth for the fruity sweet aftertaste to spread.

“Let me have some.” He stretched out his hand for you to give him the bottle.

After handing it to him, you watched his expression as he put the bottle to his lips. Similar to you, Eddie seemed pleasantly surprised at the comfortably leveled out taste of watermelon and sweetened tea. He took another drag before his attention wandered back to the vinyl he was about to plop onto the record player. A familiar, softly flickering sound emitted from the speakers as soon as the needle hit the black vinyl disc for a few seconds before the treacherously calm, somber intro melody to Battery set in. You didn’t notice it at first, but the way Eddie swayed his head from side to side in nothing but sheer acknowledgement of good music elicited a smile to form around your lips. It was an honest and effortless smile that nearly went unnoticed if it wasn’t for Eddie taking a glimpse at it from the corner of his eye.

“Look at that.” He chuckled with a tinge of relief in his tone “All it takes is ice tea, some pizza and Metallica to get you smiling!”

“Don’t forget about yourself, Munson. You deserve some credit too.” At the mention of pizza your fingers wandered out to open the box and tear a warm piece from the cheese and pepperoni loaded circle.

“Some?” He raised his brows at you before a wide grin took over.

“Yeah, some.” You repeated yourself as he slumped onto the mattress next to you and took a slice of pizza for himself.

For a moment both of you were simply chewing away while James Hetfield’s voice thundered through the speakers alongside shredding guitar riffs. By now both of you knew the record by heart and if it hadn’t been for your pizza-stuffed mouths you’d have sung along and most likely tried to imitate every waaaaah and weeeee of the guitars too. After you basically devoured the first slice of oven-baked goodness, you sighed a little and turned your heads towards Ed, who almost looked like chewing off his fingers alongside the pizza crust if he didn’t pay close attention. The sight in front of you drew an amused giggle from you before you stated what you wanted him to know: “Thanks for stopping by, Eddie.”

Chugging down the last bite, he looked at you with a warm, gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Sweet pea, I haven’t seen you in days and I got really worried. That’s the least I could do. In fact, I think I should’ve stopped by way sooner if I had known what’s going on.” He lazily licked the grease of his fingers before he added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

At that you shrugged your shoulders and scrunched your nose a little.

“Not now…I’m just happy that you are here.”

“Okay.” Eddie nodded and his eyes started beaming at you with a sparkle that was unique to him “Do you want to sing along to Master Of Puppets instead?”

It was the second track of the record and your personal favorite, closely followed by Welcome Home (Sanitarium).

“Eddie Munson on the background vocals?” You asked, the beam of joy in his eyes being positively contagious.

“Hell yeah, baby!” With a nod of his head he practically jumped from the bed as Battery was nearing its end.

The two of you were barely given a break to catch your breath before the intro riff kicked in and sent you into absolutely feral heavy metal overdrive. You couldn’t help the massive grin spreading on your face as you witnessed just how much Eddie put his whole heart into throwing his curly, fuzzy mess of hair back and forth to the pushing beat. He made being happy and carefree look like such an effortless thing to do. Bouncing back and forth like a bouncy ball he shook the weight of the world from his shoulders, appearing untouchable to any form of anxiety, pain or dread. It seemed as if the music resonating through your bedroom made him invincible and as much as you loved seeing him all spaced out like that it struck a nerve within that had turned very sore lately. You wanted that too, wanted to just let go of everything and anything for the music to sweep you right off your feet. You wanted it so bad that you took a good gasp of air and closed your eyes, getting ready for your very favorite part of the song.

After the first solo faded into a hammering, almost march-like beat, you steadied yourself and felt your heart drop as Eddie shouted alongside James Hetfield: “Master, Master!”

“Where’s the dreams that I’ve been after?” You shouted in return, feeling how the words settled right in your stomach, twisting it in every possible direction.

“Master, Master!”

“You promised only lies!” Not the music but the truth behind those lyrics started knocking you off your feet.

“Laughter, Laughter!”

“All I hear or see is laughter!” Your voice rendered into a choked back sob.

“Laughter,Laughter!”

“Laughing at my cries!” In a hasty gasp you tried to fill your lungs with the necessary oxygen before the last line was about to crush you.

In a helpless wail you didn’t know your body was capable of, you practically screamed: “Fix me!”.

Two words to wrap up the verse you had tossed and turned in your mind countless times. Two words that had left your lips while singing together with Eddie umpteenth times but this time they felt like ripping all your pain right out of your chest. It felt like a plug being pulled with all the clogged up torment, dirt and emotional mud behind it now oozing out of you.

This was nothing short of real, physical pain and your eyes shot open just to realize that you were crying again. A wave of nearly scorching hot tears erupted from your eyes, the desperation behind it crashing through your entire body and for a moment you were sure to lose your balance at the earthquake of emotions surging through your veins.

Through the tears you barely made out Eddie who was looking at you in what could only be described as utter consternation. For a handful of ragged breaths, time appeared to stand still for the both of you. Nobody dared to move as the tears fell from your face to soak the collar of your shirt and the second guitar solo cut through your sobs.

The sound of those two last words was still ringing in your ears as you recognised how Eddie leaped towards you. Your brain refused to understand what was happening as his warm hands cupped your face with his hands and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips with bruising force. Compared to the emotional earthquake this felt absolutely earth-shattering but in the best way possible. It wasn’t the first time Eddie kissed you, but it never happened like that. This wasn’t a slurry and sloppy smooch on your lips while both of you were drunk off your asses at a bonfire in the woods and this surely wasn’t a gentle peck of appreciation on your forehead. You had never dared to tell him that you never minded the clumsy drunk kisses at parties let alone ask for more of them. You didn’t want to ruin this friendship and if that meant keeping your mouth shut about fantasizing over hasty drunk kisses from your best friend you rolled with that.

Before he could break from the kiss or even just so much as think about it, you reached out to grab a fist-full of his shirt underneat the jacket and pulled him impossibly closer to your trembling body, reciprocating his kiss over and over. Instead of words, you let your bodies do the talking as your free hand got lost in his shaggy curls. You had touched his hair a million times before but this time it felt different. You knew how he smelled, leather, weed and a hint of flowery fabric softener, but right in that moment it hit you in a way it never did before. He seeped right into you, the way his plush lips felt against yours, his smell that was home to you, and sealed every crack in your pained heart with just him being there, kissing you like there wouldn’t be another tomorrow for the two of you.

Instead of more tears falling from your cheeks, you felt a blazing warmth spread in your chest. Every time his lips crashed onto yours, every time Eddie playfully nibbled at your bottom lip and every time the tip of his nose brushed against yours it sent little lightning bolts through your stomach right down to the building heat between your legs. Your loose shorts weren’t giving you any friction to ease the pulsing ache that kept growing.

With your hand still tightly fisting and effectively crumpling his shirt, you pulled Eddie with you, both of you stumbling backwards to the edge of your bed. You slumped onto the mattress back first, the bed frame creaking under the impact of Eddie crushing down onto it right with you.

“You better get those clothes off, Munson.” This demand was the only legit reason to break away from him as you scooted towards the head of the mattress.

“Right away, pumpkin.” He mumbled back with an out of breath voice, his eyes trained on you as you pulled your shirt over your head.

“Stop.” Eddie suddenly interrupted right before you were to wiggle off the shorts and you immediately froze in your movement.

“What?” It burst right out of you in worry that he abruptly came to the conclusion that this situation wasn’t something he wanted to entertain anymore.

“I wanna do that myself..” He answered, that shit-eating grin that you had been able to hear through the rain as he knocked on your door returning to his face.

You let out a relieved sigh as you watched him get out of the jacket. His shirt followed in an instant accompanied by a pair of shoes being tossed to the side. You could hardly pull yourself together as your eyes roamed over his body, admiring his tattoos. You wanted to touch him so bad, to gently sink your teeth into the crook of his neck and leave love bites and hickeys all over his throat and chest.

Eddie took his time to slip his socks off, to unbuckle his belt and pull his ripped jeans down alongside his shorts and with every second passing you felt closer to simply combusting from the flaming desire to feel his skin on yours.

“Eds, please!” You groaned as he stepped out of the fabric pooling at his ankles.

“Patience, babe.” He chuckled, kneeling onto the mattress while his hands reached out to grab your thighs just right above your knees.

It was a soft grasp around your skin and yet it made you shiver with goosebumps washing over you. He squeezed your flesh tenderly before his fingers wandered upwards to the hem of your shorts. You bit your bottom lip to hold back an excited moan but that was to no use. It slipped right out of your mouth, motivating Eddie to just grab the damned fabric and tear it down your legs. With your ass lifted, the waistband slipped right down and the piece of clothing off your body. Just before he threw the shorts to the side, Eddie just looked at you, taking in the sight in front of him.

“You’re beautiful..” It spilled out of his mouth, unfiltered and in all honesty.

“I can only say the same about you, pretty boy.” You responded and felt your heart nearly leap out of your ribcage as Eddie blushed ever so slightly at your compliment.

It took him a moment to snap out of it but as soon as he did he went after you like a vulture, his hands shooting out to wrap themselves around your hips while he lowered his face to your stomach, peppering it with kisses that left a trail downwards. Feeling his lips nip at the sensitive inside of your thighs threatened to knock the air out of your lungs and there wasn’t much missing for you to tear holes through the sheets. In agonizingly slow movements he kissed his way closer to your soaked cunt and you were sure to be leaking onto the fabric underneath you by now.

“God, Eddie, please!” You heard yourself beg for his touch and he granted you your wish.

In a loving caress he pushed his soft lips to your throbbing clit before he slowly opened his mouth for his tongue to dart out and part your folds with one languid stroke. Like a man parched he lapped at you with the full width of his tongue and you could’ve sworn to see stars behind your fluttering eyelids. He was so utterly careful yet determined in his way of handling your body that it drove you straight to the edge of sanity. You could barely grasp a thought as he switched to drawing circles with the tip of his tongue and you felt a curious thumb softly ghosting over your cunt. The muscles inside started twitching and the mere thought of it and you couldn’t help yourself but to arch your hip into his direction as he pushed into you. Feeling his thumb inside of you set every nerve on fire and you knew you wouldn’t last long if he started moving. For a moment Eddie just let it stay like this, feeling your heat from the inside but soon enough he gently pulled it back out, leaving you to clench around nothing as his finger played around the entrance, not entirely drawing back but also not plunging in again. You didn’t know that you could want him even more at that point but he proved you wrong, keeping you right at the edge of ecstasy until you could hardly take it anymore. The coil of tense muscles in your lower abdomen so ready to burst at any second now that you silently pleaded for that one necessary stroke to hit you just right. You wiggled your ass in his firm grip, desperately trying to get more friction out of anything but it was a fruitless attempt. Eddie toyed with your body ready to trip over the edge until you were nothing but a mewling mess underneath him, voice equally sore as your overstimulated muscles now. It almost felt as if you were ready to cry again but this time out of frustration while the need for release grew by the second. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment. Your mind was entirely devoid of words let alone thoughts and the only thing you wanted was for your body to snap and spasm in an overdue orgasm.

For one last time you focused all the attention left in you to angle your hips towards Eddie's face that remained buried between your trembling thighs. Picking right up on that, he shoved his thumb back into you in the same motion, thrusting you over the edge straight into a firework of unleashed pleasure that ignited every single nerve ending in your body. You couldn’t say if you ever came that hard before but it was for sure that you never brought yourself to just that height alone. It wasn’t only your body getting swept by a rush of bliss but your heart bursting with unfiltered love and joy too. The crushing tide of emotions and hormones washed right through you and for a heavenly blink of an eye made you forget about everything before you fell back to planet earth, gasping for air and eyes wide open.

Your gaze immediately fell to Eddie who’s mouth and chin were drenched in your release as he rose from between your legs, pulling his thumb out of you and scooting up to you to press a wet kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself and you weren’t sure if that ever happened before either.

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, Eds.” You breathlessly mumbled into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh, I hope not!” He smiled softly, his teeth playfully nagging at your bottom lip “I’m not going to give anything of this to the sweet ol’ Reaper anytime soon.”

“Well, if you keep on doing me like that you better have a good negociacion strategy ready because you’ll need it!” Although every muscle still felt sore and heavy, you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him in closer.

A breathy moan escaped his mouth as his cock brushed through your overstimulated folds.

“Uuuh, do that again. It’s giving Robert Plant.” You couldn’t hold back an amused snort as the very much intrusive thought slipped right out of your mouth.

At first you couldn’t quite decipher what Eddie's facial expression regarding that was trying to tell you because the comment hit him just as unexpectedly as it fell from your lips but as he leaned in to caress the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose, he moaned right into it, his hot breath breezing down your neck while pushed himself into you. Feeling him glide inside you while everything still felt hypersensitive had you clawing your hands to his back.

“Fuck!” You huffed into the crook of his neck before latching your teeth into his warm and soft skin.

The gentle yet firm bite elicited another moan that got lost in your ear and a heavy thrust of his hips as he started fucking into you with reckless abandon. He left you no time to catch a breath and railed you into the mattress instead. As if you pushed one of his buttons just right with that, your lips wandered further up his neck to place another bite at his pulse point while your fingernails dug into the tender skin of his back.

“Woman!” Eddie groaned at the bits of pain you inflicted.

“Yes, sir!” You chuckled in return.

“If you do that again I can’t promise that I can pull out, pumpkin.” His mumbled words send a shiver down your spine and for a moment you actually pondered to do it again right there and then to feel him come undone inside of you.

Although the two of you were stupid dumbasses and very much stupid dumbasses for each other… you weren’t that stupid. So instead you soothed the forming bite mark with careful, loving kisses as Eddie thrusted into you, chasing his own climax with relentless fervor. Feeling him that close effectively wiped away every dark thought that had been haunting your mind, depriving you of a good night's sleep and even infesting your dreams when you were lucky enough to get some. Right now there was only him and you refused to have it any other way ever again. Eddie had complimented you as a friend for sure but whatever this here was, it made you feel whole for once.

“Damnit!” Eddie’s hoarse voice ripped you out of your thoughts and sensations, “Fuck, imma…”

Biting his lower lip he nearly ripped himself away from you, pulling out of you just in time to spill his release all over your belly. His seed splattered out in warm, sticky ropes onto your slightly sweaty skin.

“Holy shit…” He practically collapsed onto you with a huff, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and hugging you so tight as if you were to disappear into thin air if he’d let go of you for just one second.

At that you wrapped your arms around his torso as firm as you could without squeezing him to death.

“Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“You wanna know a secret?”

“Uh-hu…”

“I love you.”

“I know, you told me.”

In an amused kinda way you rolled your eyes.

“Not like that, idiot, I mean really love you.”

“Oh…”, His breath hitched every so slightly “I love you too, sweet pea.”

“Pumpkin, sweet pea… are you hungry or something?” You snickered while your heart felt like skipping more than just one beat at his words.

“Maybe….my cute little marshmallow, my favorite piece of cake, my flaming hot chicken wing, my-”

“Oh fuck off, Munson!”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson × reader #eddie munson × you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #bestfriend!Eddie munson

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chirp-a-chirp · 1 month

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Court of Darkness: Devour & Delight

Fandom: Court of Darkness (Couples: Roy X MC, MC named Carla; Sherry X Rio)

Characters: Roy and Sherry Invidia; Rio Voleri; King Klaus; brief references to Toa and Fenn

Description: Roy prepares for his wedding; Rio is newly engaged. MC and Sherry listen in as both events lead to unintended drunken fun.

Description Pt 2: The second part of this fanfic (Roy’s wedding + wedding night) upcoming in future spicer post!

Word Count: ~1350K

Tags: Fluff; humor; crack; innuendos galore; boozy fun; horrible singing; established relationship

…

“Roy, Fenn said you needed to loosen up!”

“I am perfectly “loose”, as they say, my friend.”

Rio’s jovial laugh booms through the open window. Sherry and Carla sit in the royal gardens within the Invidian Castle courtyard, their table conveniently placed so they can hear their betrotheds from the second-story window. The table is partially obscured by a series of towering rose bushes. It is a few days before Roy’s wedding, with Rio and Roy conversing in Roy’s bedroom. Several unopened wine bottles sit on a nearby desk.

“Mate, you’re as dependable as they come, but so prim and proper. You don’t have to drink if you wish!”

“I would rather congratulate you on your and Sherry’s engagement. Besides, I am the picture of looseness and flexibility when it matters. Carla can attest to this.” While Carla and Sherry cannot see Roy’s face, they can easily envision the subtle smirk he wears.

“Excellent! Thought even you, gallant as you are, might be nervous.”

“My goodness, no. I cannot wait for Carla and I to be joined. It cannot happen soon enough.”

“You’re cozy as ever! Fenn said I might need to loosen up though—get some experience for Sherry’s sake, prior to me getting married. Any idea what he meant?”

There is a deafening silence at THAT question, followed by an embarrassed murmur from Roy Carla desperately wishes she could hear.

“Should we go save my brother?” Sherry’s eyes twinkle as she elegantly eyes a tea-biscuit. She keeps her voice low so Roy and Rio do not discover their location.

“Roy has to learn you’re not just his little sister anymore, but a woman. A newly engaged woman clearly in love.” Carla places her hand on top of Sherry’s. “He’s beyond happy for you and Rio. He’ll adjust.”

“Oh I know that! He’s been endlessly caring and supportive of Rio’s and my courtship. It’s just…”

“The way Rio expresses himself puts certain images in Roy’s head.” As if on queue, Rio and Roy’s voices float from the window.

“Roy, those are beautiful Pegasus figurines. Are they your favorite thing to ride?”

“They were, once upon a time. Now my preferences have changed, thanks to Carla.”

“Aw, do you and Carla ride together?”

“…in a manner of speaking, yes. Quite invigorating.” The mischief in Roy’s tone is readily apparent…except to Rio. Sherry giggles prettily. “That cheeky brother of mine!” Carla’s face transforms to a shade of red matching her tea.

“Do you think Sherry would enjoy riding like you do?” Another silence lingers before Roy chokes out a reply. “Perhaps I DO need wine.”

Carla covers her mouth from bursting out in hysterics. “Serves you right, Roy!” She glances at Sherry, her mouth quirking upwards. “Well? Do you enjoy riding with Rio?”

“Rio is a fast learner. So am I.” Sherry nibbles her biscuit, warmth coloring her cheeks. “Very sweet and tasty. Rio and the biscuit.” The princes continue their conversation.

“What if Sherry asks? Should I…give it to her?”

“I beg your pardon Rio?!”

“Wine. Does Sherry drink wine? If so, I’ll gladly give her a glass later.” Rio gestures to the wine bottles on the desk.

“GIVE ME THE WINE BOTTLE. I DO NOT REQUIRE A GLASS.” Roy looks as if he wants to elegantly chug the entire bottle. He is overjoyed at Rio and his sister entrusting their hearts to one another. However, he does NOT want to envision particular aspects of their relationship. Roy quickly regains his composure and pours himself and Rio a glass each. “My apologies. Do not know what overcame me. She does enjoy the occasional glass.”

“I swear, if it were anyone but Rio, I’d say they were trying to intentionally rile Roy up.” Sherry snickers at Carla’s comment. “But on to more important discussions Sherry—how did Rio propose?!”

Time roles by as Sherry details Rio’s proposal—he baked a cake with a ring inside, with Sherry nearly eating the ring! They talk as the sun sets, drinking tea and eating scones and biscuits. The discussion is so enthralling that neither pays much attention to Rio and Roy until—

🎵 “My lips devour

Our bond empowers

To love and all she brings!” 🎵

“What is that screeching? Are…are there dogs howling nearby?!”

Sherry points to the open window, where Rio is sticking his head out, singing very off-key.

“It appears Rio has had more than a single glass of wine.” Carla smiles despite the ringing to her ears.

“Oh, those are the words of a Saligian love song. One written by an Invidian and a Volerian together long ago!” Sherry steals a glance at her howling prince.

“Ummm…” Carla tries to find something positive to say about Rio’s singing. “He certainly sings with passion!”

“Speaking of passion Carla…” Sherry chortles.

🎵 “Her eyes delight

They’re quite the sight

To love and all she brings!” 🎵

Though hidden from view, Roy’s voice permeates through the air. The sound was…unique. Yes, that’s the word!

“Brother’s singing has all the elegance of a wet cat. You can say it. It’s not a secret, hehe!”

“If it WAS a secret, it certainly isn’t anymore.” Despite the pain to her ears, Carla is happy. She did not envision Roy ever letting his guard down enough to be tipsy in front of another besides her.

“Brother is talented and poised in so many areas. Singing, however, is not one of them. Roy once asked Toa to tutor him in singing in return for teaching Toa how to cultivate roses. Rio decided to learn alongside Roy as a sign of support.”

“And? What happened?”

“After a day, Toa said they had all the talent of drunken frost lizards. And that was an improvement.” As Sherry talks, a lizard crawls up the castle wall and onto Roy’s window. Roy motions tipsily to the lizard.

“Pray tell, I sing better than YOU, dear lizard!”

“That’s right! You tell’em Roy!”

At this juncture, Sherry and Carla decide to make their way in the Castle, following the sound of their intendeds’ slurred singing. The women open Roy’s bedroom door and poke their heads through a crack. A few palace maids discretely place rags in their ears as they pass by.

“You both have BEAUTIFUL singing voices,” Sherry beams. Rio laughs and Roy’s eyes widen.

“Ah, don’t bother lowering your voices,” Carla mock whispers to Sherry. “So this is what lies underneath their princely masks. Such grace!”

Carla expects Roy to become bashful at these teasing words. To her delight, he and Rio continue giddily singing. Roy tries to keep up with Rio, but laughter makes Roy lose his breath.

“Brother, it appears Rio can keep his liquor and song better than you!” Sherry is gleeful at seeing her beloved older brother in this state—drunk but having the time of his life. Roy tries to sing again, but his attempts prove futile as he misses one note after the next, until he is forced to stop all together.

“Sherry, you have to promise you’ll NEVER let Roy forget this!” Tears form in Carla’s eyes from laughing.

Roy nods and grins. “Oh, Sherry will never allow me to forget. But not before…” Roy lets out a roaring crescendo and sings “To love and all she brings!” He suddenly collapses on his bed and mumbles against the sheets. “Rio, invest in soundproof rooms. Believe me, it’s WELL worth it.”

“Oh good grief!” Carla cackles as Rio looks with heat at Sherry and nods seriously…before collapsing on the bed with Roy.

Sherry and Carla leave the room once they’ve ensured there’s plenty of water to drink. As they close the door, Carla wonders aloud where they procured the wine.

“My wine cellar!” King Klaus arrives. “Roy would not have fully enjoyed himself in public, so I suggested this option to Prince Rio.”

Roy lifts his head slightly at these words. He’d congratulate his father on his insight tomorrow—once the room stopped spinning. “Oh Creator,” Roy moans, “this will not be fun in the morning.”

Rio mumbles against a pillow. “Hey Roy—riding adventures can be soundproofed too, right?”

#court of darkness #otome fanfic #otome mc #roy invidia #sherry invidia #rio voleri #voltage fanfic #fanfic fluff #otome romance #otome

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dyrewrites · 3 months

Text

Pale Blood -- Intro || One

~ * ~

I want to tell you a story.

It is a complex tale that involves forces more powerful than can be accurately described, stretches further than a single lifetime, and speaks on the fates of many, perhaps even all, and I…well, let’s say I may not be the right one to tell it. But I am the only one who can, and so I am who you’ve got if you wish to hear it. And you will—as those responsible for our lost stars once did—wish.

I’m jumping ahead, forgetting which is the now and which was the then; a side effect of aging, that. You live long enough and you start to lose your grip on the world, and your place in it.

So let’s retract that slip, shall we?

Our tale begins—wait, no, we’ll get to that another time.

Where we begin now is where things turned.

We begin with the first glimmer of change, when hope shined through lifetimes of shadow…glowing from those that could not have known, and who should not have been.

~ * ~

One

The city of Dolor reached, with all its metal fingers, for the bright hot eyes that warmed it. Eyes too weary, too ancient, to worry of the lives that scurried under their gaze. But those lives worried of them and of the grand and terrifying wyrm that bore them.

Or they should have.

On the whole, those desperate to avoid the wyrm’s glare were the ones to take note of its sinewy, slithering sky long enough to be concerned.

And it is one such desperate soul that our tale begins with.

Well...half of such a soul—though fully desperate—as through no fault of his own he was born an abomination. Half bloodsucking fang, half man, and entirely too tired to care which one had decided to make him their doormat on any given evening.

But we jump ahead. Let us roll back a step or two, explain a bit.

Delmas Olren was famous once, beloved even—if the rampant infatuation born of complete separation from reality that his fans possessed could be deemed love. Larger than life he towered over all others, projected in brilliant, flickering holographic clarity for those in the lofty heights of Upper Dolor to witness. And what granted such fame, such fortune, such privileged status in the glittering haven of those towers? A simple sport, if a brutal one.

Holoboxing was what the city named it, projected and streamed for the masses as all fights were, and ‘The Mountain’ was what they named him, for much like a mountain he could not be toppled. But, as it turned out, he could break. Shatter, in fact. And, when he did, all the bloodsucking fangs—that sang his praises right along with their prey while he fought under their banner—pounced to devour the rubble.

Now, how he broke, and when and why, are details best left to drip, to seep and saturate the tale I am here to tell. For the sake of introductions it only matters that he did, and that all those pieces were bitten and clawed and snatched back...misshapen and wrong. Leaving our dear star decidedly dimmer than he desired to be—but as perfectly bright as he needed to.

000

Delmas was outside a bloodbank—Dolor’s only bloodbank—seething in the dim of a smog-black sky with his still-blinking netlink firmly hidden in the pocket of his duster.

“Halfnight ain’t my shift, Bosch,”He’d sneered into the device a mere hour prior, but his boss didn’t relent. Instead he reminded him of the cab waiting outside and the creds that paid for it—and the clothes on his back, and the apartment he seemed to value so highly just then. So Delmas traded warm blankets and worn sheets for filthy streets and choking smog.

The assignment he had been so ungraciously woken for was to pick up a shipment of high-quality blood, something he didn’t ascribe to, blood was blood—unless it came out of faefolk in which case it was drugs—and run it to a fancy old-world hotel downtown.

A hotel he couldn’t recall the name of—and would regret so later.

All he cared about, standing outside the bloodbank with the cab idling behind him, was the work. Specifically, how it had been more pointless grunt work for the relics that owned him, and would continue to own him long after most of the city ran through another generation of blood to feed them. As, much to the half-fang’s dismay, all fangs whole and not were immortal—more or less. The eldest of them, however, kept their noses above the smog while their bodies languished in the slums, beside Delmas’ opinions of them. Opinions held for good reason—as far as he was considered—as he’d been kissing their asses and doing whatever was asked of him since he fucked up and fell from the grace of Upper Dolor’s majestic towers.

A fall those crusty old relics wouldn’t let him forget.

Jealous fucks the lot of ‘em, he’d remind himself whenever their teeth sunk too deep, or their words cut too wide, can’t stand that I can do what their ancient asses can’t.

And he was right, in a way.

Half-fangs weren’t rare, exactly, but they were weak, feeble, lesser; all weaknesses, no benefits. But not Delmas, for reasons unknown to him—that he wouldn’t believe were he told—he had most of the benefits and few of the weaknesses.

But it was the absence of their greatest weakness that made him as valuable as he was despised.

The smog blocked the light of Som’s twin suns enough to snuff any hopes of true warmth and growth beneath its blanket but its rays still filtered, still speared through to smoke and sear fang flesh as quick and deep as any fire. But it didn’t sear Delmas. A fact that frightened and repulsed those that pulled his strings. It was that fear, that revulsion of his immunity, his otherness to their perceived perfection which fueled their hatred and kept him at their feet.

From dawn, till well into halfnight, their sharp grins and sharper teeth forced him to fetch whatever they asked him to. Blood, primarily; precious and coveted blood offered freely—well, at cost, but such cost was monetary rather than the panicked breaths of quickly draining veins it had once been—from the bloodbank in the slums.

Despite his hatred—bare and gleaming for any fang he dealt with to see—the ‘bloodrunner’ title programmed into Delmas’ ID came with perks. Near-total access to the city, for one; wherever he had business. And with fangs running the show, and their desperate need of him, he had business everywhere. Every grimy set of hungry teeth that drained life from the slum’s shadows knew Delmas’ face, if not his name, as the bringer of their blood—and their salvation when their supplies ran low and the pulsing flesh writhing in the streets began to sing.

Bags of the warm and gooey were bought by the fangs shacking up with synthmeat under the abandoned skyscrapers of Dolor’s many metal bones. They were bartered by the fangs that got small with the faefolk buried in caves and hovels on the chaotic border of the Wylds. Even the dogs scurrying in the sewers for a sip of rage-red wolf blood howled for the easier meal. Fangs old enough to have participated in the city’s construction—and one lording her power over them all as the not-so-secret guiding hand of the city—demanded offerings as well. Which meant, shining and untouchable as they seemed, even the towers weren’t beyond the reach of his ID.

From the center of Dolor’s dreary slums to the shimmering lofts of the privileged elite, Delmas soaked the city red, assuring the safety of those his masters would rather devour than live amongst. And while the glittering golds at the top teased and taunted of a life lost, of freedom from the muck he swam in, he delighted in their sight, their taste—however brief.

He put up with every one of those relics, and their simpering thralls, as they lobbed ‘halfie’ jabs—and literal jabs—whenever he darkened their doors. All for that taste, that sip, that daydream of better.

With the biggest grin his lips could manage he took everything they threw, reminding himself through it all, play the game, climb the ladder and one day all those leeches will be kissin’ my ass.

But no one would be kissing his anything that halfnight, though thanks to the early wakeup and surprise delivery he did have a deep desire to kick his boss’s everything. Mood notwithstanding, when he stopped stewing and stepped through the sliding glass doors, his irritable scowl slipped away.

Stale medical air notwithstanding, the man at the counter was a welcome sight. A man whose deep set of baby blues looked Delmas over as he entered, and cocked a well-sculpted eyebrow.

“Late night for you ain’t it, Del, how’s it hangin’?”

The voice belonged to the hottest pair of lips he’d ever seen—on a dead guy—and Delmas set his bag, and an elbow, on the counter to lock his hazels with those blues.

That face made the trips worth it, its rich browns so well preserved he often forgot he was looking at a ghoul, and the smile he offered was genuine as he answered, “Low and slightly to the left, Ron, how ‘bout you?”

“Always humorin’ me,” Ron said, tossing him a wink, “S’why I like you, well, that and that fine ass. Stuff’s in the back, I’ll box it up for ya.”

As Ron sauntered off to a room behind the counter, Delmas followed the sway he offered, his genuine smile yet shining as his thoughts drifted places best left private. Theirs was an old game but, fun as it had been, it was also an innocent one as neither could make good on the promises their words and eyes made the other—no matter how one of them ached to.

Thick, clear box in hands, Ron returned and set it on the counter with all the care his profession demanded—which was little, and it tapped quite loudly in response. But the box was not near as intriguing as what waited inside, stuffed near to bursting and sloshing about in equally clear bags.

Blood; viscous, white and swirled with glittering gold—which was decidedly the wrong color. It had been markedly pinker the last few months, slipping ever nearer to white over the last few runs, but Ron wasn’t alarmed. He hadn’t noticed. To him it was as rich and red as it had always been.

Delmas noticed.

Problem was he didn’t care.

So those relics’ll get their fix and an extra high, he soothed the prickling of his skin. Prob’ly won’t even notice, fae magic bein’ the horny mess it is—a single fairy flies through town and you’re cleaning magic out of the cracks for eons.

After a wink of his own, and an exaggerated wriggle of his hips—that would keep Ron in good spirits for the remainder of that halfnight—Delmas ducked back out in the cooling air of pre-dusk.

To the waiting cab, which hovered about a foot higher than the flickering screens of the street it rode and smelled too strongly of urine, avoiding small-talk with the somber figure behind the wheel. Small-talk he found he’d have preferred to what the cabby broadcast from his netlink.

A moaning ballad over a droning bass, the song’s familiar lyrics bit with memories too raw for time to scar. And again Delmas sneered, again he seethed, and sunk deeper into the musty synth-leathers of the seat as his thoughts spat at the netstar who owned that voice—who once owned him—of course the cabby listens your caterwaulin', who fuckin' doesn’t.

~ * ~

Why was the guy they got to run blood during the day running around so close to night? It’s a good question! Or...it would be, if there was night.

But there wasn’t. Not anymore.

There hadn’t been one for going on thirty years by then.

Not since Vi, the wyrm that held the moons in her skull and the night sky in her belly, crashed down outside the city and the Wylds flourished in her rot.

The light outside those Wyld woods no longer dropped below twilight, where it stayed for a handful of hours—more or less—before her dear brother Som, the sun wyrm, opened his massive eyes and brought morning again.

Welcome to Morne, it’s weird and crazy and we hate it too.

We’re trying to fix it though.

Doesn’t answer the question, does it? I’ll try again.

Night on Morne was known as “halfnight”, since it never reached full dark—and wouldn’t until it could do nothing else. Fangs could go out in halfnight, the suns’ lids were closed after all, they just didn’t block everything and they weren’t terribly consistent about how long they remained that way. So it was unwise to leave the safety of their lairs outside the slim window of what should have been midnight—urging everyone with blood to taste into their homes.

Oh, but I’m rambling again, aren’t I…

It’s time to check in on our other oblivious star.

~ * ~

As with our half-fang, we should take a moment to introduce our half-witch—full witch by blood, as one could be nothing else, but not practicing and thus half.

Odearna Mal Forna, Sister of Daughter Dusk, one of the three Goddesses native to the world of Morne—blessedly confined to the Wylds—was a self-made renegade witch of the slums.

But she had never known fame or fortune.

Or comfort, for that matter.

Sure, she knew the embrace of family and the love one always hopes that entails, but it had been fleeting—as all bliss—and it died, slow and agonizing in a hospital bed. Odea, very alive and very distraught, was taken into the broken family her loss left her and taught the rough embrace of fealty by hot hands, sharp teeth and sharper magic.

An embrace she did not wither in but hardened.

Fierce and patient, she took the possessive hands and hungry tongues of her coven—her Sisters in magic, bound by their Goddess’ blood—for months on end, adhering to the rites of their Goddess and the rituals they entailed. More than blood she tore, screaming with grief and regret, from the victims of her coven’s clients. But through every curse, every hex, every lost soul she bound or broke in the name of a capricious mistress, Odea plotted and prepared.

Then she fled, bruised and bloodied—and eternally scarred—to bury what she scavenged of herself among the slums. Unfortunately...she could not escape her Goddess. Not so long as her blood pulsed with Daughter Dusk’s could she be free of her collar, her leash.

So Odea abandoned her magic, her power, herself—as much as any witch could—and tried her best to hide in a life outside her expertise. The how’s and details of the why’s we will—as her fang counterpart before her—explore in time, slow and dripping as the blood she worked with.

For introductions, one must only be aware that our dear Odea was magical by nature—resilient by design.

000

Witch turned phlebotomist, Odea often found herself outside, during or after her Goddess’ time—after dusk—on streets that blinked and blinded with all the neon its businesses could muster. Those bright lights tempted all with desires to twist toward gyrating holos. Holos that promised the comfort of young, eager synth bodies ripe and ready to bend and break.

Odea huffed at every one, or puffed rather, directly through their collected lights as she had no desires to tempt—flesh, though integral to the magic she so rarely tasted then, held no sway over her...as she cared little for touch.

With the sultry tones of Savor, her favorite netstar, singing from her netlink—glittering among the many other rings and charms decorating her ear—work was what mattered. All else be damned.

But, damned or not, else intruded.

That else turned out to be two thugs looking for a quick buck, or a bite—to be honest, it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things what they were looking for; they were looking in the wrong place.

They slithered out of an alleyway like a couple of awkward ferrets, bared their oversized teeth and pulled her into deeper shadows, knocking the netlink enough to halt the melodies singing through it—and souring her more than the rough claws on her sweater and moist breath in her face.

It wasn’t every halfnight she was jumped by a couple of bloodsuckers, but the last time it happened they were after more than her blood, so it was a marked improvement.

These ones wanted her keys and had assumed—foolishly—that it would be an easy matter to get them off her. She was alone, after all, and they figured she was a tiny, defenseless woman they could drag into a dark alley and intimidate. Unfortunately—for them—being one did not require the other.

Must not be important enough to get delivery, she guessed, suppressing the smile that tickled, the giggle that bubbled. Sharp teeth, no matter how big or hairy the bodies attached to them were, did not worry Odea. The latticework of scars her massive sweater—and layers of shirts beneath—covered marked her all but immune to such worries.

And the sad little knives they waved around weren’t helping any.

“You got a death wish, meat? I said give us the keys,” the bigger fang said through teeth struggling to fit behind lips too thin for his face.

The smaller one gave what he thought a threatening nod and Odea had a genuine fright…that she wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face for her bit. A bit she began by digging around in her purse.

“I’m certain there’s a seedy little hole in the wall somewhere that’s really missing you two,” she said through an exaggerated giggle before she brandished a small flask and shook it. “You guys drink? Booze, I mean.”

Standing slack-jawed for two heaving breaths, the big one shook his surprise off and caught her by the neck. Mourning the loss of her giggle as she hit the wall, Odea found it again in the sight of the flask held firm in her fingers.

“Fine,” The hairy wall of muscle spat. “You don’t wanna play nice, we can play rough.”

The smaller one licked his teeth and chuckled, “Yeah, we like rough.”

Stretching her neck beneath the oversized hand that held it, Odea feigned fear at the fang it belonged to as he grinned and bared his fangs again.

He didn’t get to use them, however, as he was far too busy screaming.

Night-blessed water may not have been the most economical choice of weapon, but it was easier to carry around than a bonewood stake—and Odea knew a good deal more of Mother Night’s witches than she did undead whittlers.

The fang dropped her to scratch at his melting face and the other hissed before he pounced, allowing Odea time for a well-placed foot to his groin—much to the delight of all the underpaid women he planned to spend the remainder of the evening with—and an opening to rush out of the alley.

And right into another fang.

“Just my luck,”she told the smooth surface of the sidewalk’s screen as she replaced her dropped flask in her purse and slapped around for her lost glasses, “flat on my ass in the middle of a fang sandwich.”

But the new one didn’t pounce. He didn’t snarl or spit or even threaten, no he knelt beside her and offered the oversized glasses she couldn’t spot. And he didn’t want her neck, or her keys, just her wrist, which he took through the thick corded cloth of her sweater, careful not to touch her skin.

After helping Odea to her feet, and offering a comforting smile, the new fang settled warm hazel eyes on her nametag and said, “I take it you work the halfnight shift at the leechpit?”

Get in the cab if you want to stay in one piece, he added in a voice that didn’t try to brute force its way into her thoughts; it asked politely, took her mind to dinner and gave it a tasteful kiss on the cheek.

She’d met some of the classier fangs before—as she would refer to him beyond politeness—but he was something else when she looked closer. A bulky mountain of a man with short, mouse-colored hair and a patchy mess of curls where a beard should be, he towered over her in a tattered black duster and clothes so dreary and casual they made her sweater and leggings ensemble look fashionable. Even his fangs weren’t really fangs, protruding only enough from the friendly smile he offered to reveal what he was.

It wasn’t right.

Classy fangs were all pomp and flourish. They put on a show as if they were the show. This one was nice. Nice and friendly and normal and somehow that was worse.

With his voice lingering in her thoughts, caressing her nerves, Odea couldn’t find her own. Instead she found a sense of longing, unknown and unwelcome but she held it all the same; close and tight as the classy fang ushered her into a smoky cab—a cab that’s netlink sang over-sweet with the song she’d lost in her own.

Her composure did not return until he helped her inside, then it burned clear through her cheeks.

“Back to the leechpit, if you don’t mind,” The fang asked the cabby.

While Odea straightened her hair and glasses, distracting herself until the classy fang eyed the window, where she couldn’t see his eyes. It was difficult not to stare when she could, more so than it should have been, as if her eyes were refusing requests to look away. Sure, he was cute—beautiful even, in a familiar and eerie sort of way—but swooning wasn’t like her. She didn’t swoon and certainly not for a man, no matter how cute.

So what’s got me gawking? She asked herself—the better question would have been ‘why doesn’t he make me anxious?’ but she wasn’t ready to ask it.

And he answered, “Not to sound like a cliché but it’s not you, it’s me. Where anythin’ human is concerned, preferences be damned,” He turned to face her with a single eyebrow cocked, his smile crooked and more than a little sad as he added, “I’m irresistible.”

She knew words, she should be saying words. Say words, Odea. “But I’m no—I mean, that’s fine then? I guess.” But it wasn’t, that doesn’t make sense, no fangs can twist a witch that way, am I…less, because I stopped practicing? His smile twitched but didn’t fall and she swallowed before speaking again, “I—uh, thank you? I’m supposed to say thank you. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know your,” he put a hand up before she could finish. Gross, even his hands are pretty, she said it to herself but he chuckled as if she hadn’t.

“Call me Del, and you’re welcome.” He leaned over her to unlock the door and Odea didn’t breathe till he returned to his own seat, but his whisper stayed with her, “When you get in tell Ron, Del says he’s sorry for keepin’ me.”

The world stopped without her and before she could turn to thank the fang again, he was gone. The cab remained, dinging with the payment of too many creds as its driver gaped at the empty seat.

Their eyes met.

The cabby nodded.

Odea nodded.

After she slipped under the creaky metal door, the cab flew off, leaving her alone in the smog-choked and bruising gloom of halfnight.

Turning her eyes to the sky, Odea asked it, “What did I do to earn the attention of every fang in this Gods-forsaken pit of a city?”

And if Som had been capable, he would have reminded her of what her chosen profession was, but he was not and so he shook and crackled. The cloud cover of his sinewy body crackled with him, bright and blue, before it burst and rain poured through the glittering pink barrier protecting Dolor from its Wyld woods. Beyond the glimmer of the towers above, the rain’s shimmering blues were tainted and spoiled by the smog beneath...where it found Odea.

Gray-hued and smelling faintly of sewage, what soaked through her sweater did not improve the twitch taking over her lips. But it did usher her faster to the screen, slapping her keycard against it, cursing the older tech of the building that it could not read her embedded ID—and know her without the stall of a card and the extra rain it drenched her in.

When the doors slid open she continued through them in a rabid charge, until the counter stopped her, or rather Ron’s welcoming smile did.

She had a message for that smile and, even as the memory of who gave it began to fade, she spoke it in precisely the tone he’d given it, “Del says he’s sorry for keepin’ me.”

“Again,” Ron clicked his tongue and shook his head, “I need to get you some earplugs.” He waved her confused expression off and started walking into the backrooms. “Or a helmet, maybe an attack dog...or a gun,” He added before he disappeared into the maze of storage rooms that extended deep beneath the squat building.

All Odea caught as his voice faded was ‘fang ass’ and decided it better she missed the rest as she poured back into her body.

Fang? The cab she remembered, and the hairy fangs before it, but there’d been another there that wouldn’t latch. Someone new, Cordial, comfortable, an absolute…asshole! Push me into a cab like that, pull me out of myself, turn me into compliant putty and, the last of Odea’s consciousness snapped into focus and rage slammed against its edges.

“Again?” She all but screeched, stomping toward the backrooms. “Ron, you better not have been keeping secrets or I will feed your ears to my cats!”

000

The halfnight air, while crisp and delightful on Delmas’ skin, wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was to not be running blood for a bunch of half-dead pricks—they were alive, as any other thing that is born and one day will die, they had simply forgotten how to act like it—but he would settle for the solace of the cab.

A solace he lamented as he outran others flying lazily down the street, Might have stank of piss and sex—and sang with memories best left rotting in a pit—but a cab’s better than wasted boots.

Buildings, cars, pedestrians, the violence and misery of the slums—and salacious holos of the slender bronze face and bright cyan eyes that would have broadcast the very song he escaped were he wearing his netlink—passed by in a rainbow blur. Few noticed him, their own halfnights saturated in stresses he could only imagine—with his not having to fear for predators as they did—and those that had the misfortune of catching sight of a billowing coat or a shine of fangs wouldn’t remember.

His was a fleeting presence.

Unlike the errand he’d been sent on. Though the package required of it was. Despite its odd color—a color that nagged, glittering in that pale way it shouldn’t—he carried a meager treat.

No doubt Bosch is suckin’ toes again, lookin’ to get another wing on that manor of his, he considered as he tucked the glorified shoebox tighter under his coat—narrowly avoiding a drunken pedestrian as he sped quicker than the poor woman could feasibly avoid herself. But, fucked color or not, it’s a bite of a thing, should get there and back with enough time for sleep, he regretted the optimism as soon as it faded and a sense of dread rumbled in its place.

Not too many things could notice him at the speed he ran, let alone keep pace well enough for the growl that clawed at his ears, but the smell that chased it gave his pursuer away. There weren’t too many things that stunk of musty fur and cheap liquor either. Delmas ducked into an alley and waited for the shadow to stretch over his on the cracks and stains along the scrap-metal wall.

And man, can that shadow ever stretch, he marveled.

When the thing stopped growing it was double his size in every direction, and Delmas slipped his free hand into his coat. He wasn’t much in a fight against what waited, but a storied career of punching faces meant he wasn’t defenseless either, and he felt decidedly less terrified to have one of his knuckle dusters on than off.

“Got somethin’ for me, boy?” the shadow asked, words dripping through teeth too big.

Box held close, and weapon held firm, Delmas turned and bit his lip. The blues of the nearby streetlamps didn’t reach the alley and dawn was still hours off—halfnight’s confused length not-withstanding—but he saw all he needed through the dim. The wolf in men’s clothing cut a certain figure out of the bruised twilight, and what a figure it was. Mountain as they once called him, Delmas had nothing on the shifted mess of black fur and gleaming white teeth that snarled in that blue-licked dark.

Nothin’ that hairy, with a mouth that big, should be allowed a coat that nice, Delmas thought. It was nicer than his and that bothered him more than the wolf’s size or the sour smell that wafted from his stretched snout. Delmas smiled as wide as he could—to keep from grimacing, “Hiya, Nash, didn’t think big bad let you wander off-leash. How’s this halfnight treatin’ ya?”

“Hand em over and I don’t crush your skull,” Nash didn’t need to step forward for the threat to stick, but he did anyway and Delmas had to bite his lip again as the massive wolf shuffled in the too-small space.

“All business tonight, huh, alright then,” It was his turn to step forward, slipping into the empty space as if he were made for it, doing nothing to hide the grin as Nash backed away. “We all know your bark is worse than your bite. You’re neutered, furball, I’m off limits. This blood’s for the big guy, but not your big guy, so stow the teeth or I make the call and ruin both our tomorrows.”

“Not this time,” Nash growled under the words and Delmas shuddered with the vibration of it. The wolf stood taller, “Boss wants the blood and the boss gets what—”

“‘The boss wants’?” He shook off the growl and tucked the box of blood bags closer, tighter under his arm. “Nuh-uh. Not happenin’. My boss is bigger than your boss, figuratively speakin’ of course, so you’re not gettin’ these bags.” Nash had a nasty smile, more of an extra wide snarl that twisted around and curled up his cheeks. The flash of orange and dilated pupils added a bit to the effect, but Delmas knew better—or at least he was pretty sure he did. The wolves were neutered, there was an agreement. Gotta be a reason for the back alley tooth-off here, he worried, but he said, “Alright, smiley, put em away and we can talk.” Delmas let the knuckle duster loose in his pocket and put his hand up, backed up a bit and waited till Nash tucked those teeth away before continuing, “Fangs get the syrup and wolves pop the dead things at the morgue for their nougat-y center. That’s how it is, how it’s always been. So why’s mama suddenly jonesin’ for the red and gooey?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit, halfie.” Nash was too worked up for conversation—not something one wants from ten feet of muscle and teeth.

Delmas began to run the scenarios but his mouth wasn’t patient enough to wait for wisdom, “You lick your mama with that tongue, mutt?”

Nash growled, deeper and longer than his last and Delmas dropped. Rumbling through his skin, fierce and hungry, he could all but feel the teeth in it before the wolf stopped. And, grasping for the support of a nearby dumpster, Delmas stood—slower than he needed to.

Waiting, lips wide and eyes bright, Nash offered no mirth, “I get the bags or you get dead.”

“Please back away, I am unsafe to touch,” the dumpster chimed, flashing warning symbols along its surface before it clicked its lid locked.

Delmas ignored it, pushing from the greasy metal can as it heated—wiping its black grime on his matching jeans. The chime of the electronic voice rang again, after a sizzle and pop, but he ignored that too and dusted off his coat, taking special care to slap at his coattails—slipping the hand into his pocket after.

Then he looked up into Nash’s monstrous snout with a smile half as hungry, “If I give you the bags, I won’t be the only one gettin’ dead.”

“I ain’t afraid a you,” Nash spit, grinning as the viscous mess hit the spot of Delmas’ coat he’d just cleaned.

Eyes firm, Delmas secured his knuckle duster and nodded, stepping closer. “Maybe you should be,” he warned, dropping and diving between legs too big—yet conveniently wide-set—before twisting around to pop ol’ Nash in the jewels on his way through.

The wolf did not howl, nor did he wail, he squeaked—in a pitch that set dogs three blocks down howling in shared agony—and Delmas’ laugh coughed loud and sharp as he rolled out of the alley and into a sprint.

But his giddiness—as all great joys—was fleeting.

Balls of steel that one, he fretted at the distant rumble, and the growl that chased it. Memories of blood-starved weeks healing broken bones and black eyes kept him at a gasping pace, one that allowed him to dive into a broken dumpster free of garbage but soaked in a stench vile enough to mask his scent.

“—your fucking bones!” Nash’s threat was cut off, but Delmas could work out what had come before it and remained in his hideaway.

Nash lashed out at can after can, scratching at metal walls and even toppling a streetlamp—from the crunch and crackle Delmas could make out—but he didn’t find him. He remained safe and sound until the growls faded, and their residual shivers died away.

Stinking of burnt garbage, Delmas then headed for the drop—making a mental note to strangle his boss. However, Nash wasn’t what urged him quicker as he did. No, what he was after managed that. While wolves coming for blood was a bad sign on its own—a terrible omen one might say—the color of it piled on extra reasons to fret.

000

“Your ears in fucking my cats, Ron!” Odea repeated for the fifth time.

But Ron wasn’t listening. He wasn’t budging. He was hiding in a freezer, because Ron? Ron wasn’t stupid. He knew more about her then she did.

For instance; when she got angry, things got broke.

They lost most of the glass in the front of the bank last month because some fang-banger was loitering out front. Scrawny creep walked in like he owned the place, sold a bag of what could only be mer blood—red as any other, it shimmered and rippled like the surface of the sea—then asked after Del, but Odea didn’t know any Del.

Because someone keeps erasing himself, Ron thought—but he was mistaken.

Expletives sung from the creep—in a manner Ron should have found familiar—and his eyes flashed in a cyan brighter than any Ron knew despite the low hood and thick lenses covering them. Then the fang-banger and Odea had it out, full on shouting match right there on the sidewalk for all the slums to hear.

But that’s not what worried.

It was when the sweet little thing, who had been slinging blood by Ron’s side for the better part of a year, screamed—wailed more like—in a way he’d never heard a human scream and all the glass shattered. Got rid of the fang-banger alright—ran him clear across the street to a car too nice to be in the slums—but Odea? He found her standing on the cracks of the glitched-out sidewalk, covered in blood and glass, eyes burning with white fire and mouth hanging three times lower than it had any right to. She fainted when he touched her and woke up hours later…and asked what happened to the windows.

So no, Ron would not come when she called. He was staying put behind the steel door, where it was safe.

“Seriously, Ron, where are you? I’ve had a shitty start this halfnight and I need some answers before I lose my mind.” She was right outside the freezer. If he wanted to—which he decidedly did not—he could peek out the window in the door and see her standing there. “I was kidding about your ears. I won’t feed any part of you to my cats, I would never. I don’t know where you’ve been.” Ron laughed, it was short and more of a squawk but it was enough and Odea’s round face filled the window, fogging up her glasses as she spoke in a warbling singsong, “I see you.”

Her voice slipped too easily through the thick glass. It tickled chill fingers up his arms and burrowed into his ears and Ron wanted to run. But he was in a freezer. There was nowhere to go save under a shelf of blood bags or into one of the empty boxes meant for them. No matter how limber his dead limbs had proven to be, he knew damn well there was no way he’d be able to squeeze into a box that small.

So Ron sighed…and opened the door.

Odea stepped back, rocking onto her heels, and clasped her hands behind her back, gazing up at him with comically widened eyes.

Ron sighed again, “Oh please, honey, don’t strain yourself. Just, go make us some coffee and I’ll meet you in the breakroom.” She squeaked and hopped and, as she fluttered off down the hallway humming to herself, Ron wondered if she knew how many people were in that head of hers, do they have to schedule their time, or is it like a rotating roster?

It took him longer than he expected to navigate the maze of halls that was the bloodbank, and when he finally reached his destination the breakroom greeted him with an unenthusiastic, ‘meh’.

Walls of unwelcoming off-white weren’t its only travesty, as the linoleum’s attempt at fun patterning was anything but. Never mind the chairs, which creaked no matter who sat in them, add in a delightful layer of grime and dust on nearly every surface and you got a pit no one in their right mind would spend time in. It was a bleak room, made ever more by the flickering fluorescent bulbs that lit it.

But there was coffee.

Decent coffee too, something that only happened when Odea made it. Ron could never work out why that was but it gave him an excuse to have her make the coffee every shift they shared together, which was every halfnight shift.

It was just the two of them that worked halfnights and they rarely had anyone but Delmas drop in, which was rare on its own and never happened when Odea was in the building—convenient, that.

The dayshift was another beast—and when Ron saw his favorite fang most often. That crew managed the buying and collecting of the bulk of their one and only product, and anyone looking to make a quick buck off the life flowing in their veins preferred brighter, living faces taking it. From all over the slums and the shimmering towers above it, and even out into the border of the Wylds the people came. They weren’t always people, in the strictest sense, and the blood not always what one might picture…but the bloodbank bought it.

Then it sold it to the fangs, always the fangs.

No one else bought blood.

It was provided, of course, to the hospitals when needed but it was rarely needed. No, their deceptively large bloodbank was essentially a giant juicebox for bloodsucking monsters—some might say ‘vampires’, and I’m sure by this point in our tale you’d like them to, but that was an old word in Morne, one that would confuse most and enrage others.

Ron was comfortable with the arrangement—as if he had a choice. Fangs didn’t judge, much, and Delmas never. He was welcome in their spaces, even if his hunger required more to slake. Odea though, her he didn’t understand. No normal, warm and breathing, human would choose to spend every halfnight alone with a flesh-hungry corpse—no matter how charming and adorable he was.

But...after working side-by-side, dealing with her cycling moods, noticing the way some of the machines responded to her presence and catching the disturbing glint in her eyes when she spoke of blood-borne diseases, Ron started to understand.

Odea wasn’t normal, maybe not even human.

It was around then that he caught her taking her own blood, and his suspicions were confirmed. Human blood could drip out of their veins in a red so dark it appeared black, and it could even ooze if the person giving it were dehydrated. What it could not do was shimmer as if spiked with the very light of dusk itself. She was spooked when he walked in on her, but played it off as being startled and embarrassed. Selling her blood suggested money had been tight—and it had—but she ignored the oddity of her blood.

Ron said nothing, out of politeness, but he didn’t ignore it; Odea had witchblood. Even if his eyes weren’t seeing what he thought they were, his nose couldn’t lie.

She stayed with him in the solitude of halfnight—six out of the nine days each week—content beside his appetite, because she knew her flesh wasn’t on the menu. Either that or she didn’t know what he was, but he while he was well preserved he was still clearly not of the living, and they’d been together in that pit for too long for her not to have figured it out.

As for why they were the only halfnight shift, well, Odea asked him once, and once only, why there weren’t any humans working the shift with them. To the discomfort of both of them, all of Ron’s answers ended in ravenous fangs and exorbitant cleanup costs. No, it was humans—and thralls, if they could get enough of them away from their master’s beds—for the day-walkers and ‘others’ for everyone else.

That’s what worked, so that’s what they stuck with.

Who ‘they’ were, Ron had no idea. He had his ‘boss’—the same Delmas answered to—and he’d met a few other fangs before his favorite became the only deliveryman, but they didn’t seem to be in charge. Whoever actually ran the bloodbank was someone too important to sully themselves in the slums.

And they have lousy taste in furniture, Ron grumped. The chair had begun to dig into his thighs during his introspection and Odea had yet to join him in his misery, but there’s a fresh pot of coffee. He glanced under the table, having found her under there before during one of her fits…nope.

The room was bare beyond the single table, a couple of chairs and the kitchenette—if three feet of counter space and a sink on top of a single cupboard and broken minifridge constituted a kitchenette.

“Where is she?” He asked it anyway.

From somewhere in the labyrinthine bowels of the bloodbank, a shriek answered.

~ * ~

Now that we have met our stars we must speak of our skies—of caution—of warnings. I have spoken of the wyrm, the suns, of Som; he whose steady claws held the misshapen ball of Morne and warmed it with the impossible fires of his belly, shining so brightly through his eyes.

But I spoke briefly of his sister. Her colossal eyes, soft blue-white they glowed so sweet, so gentle, while her sinewy sky glowered in dark and glittering blues and purples with the flash and twinkle of her own light peeking through like stars. They wrestled, fought, bit and tore to be the one that cradled Morne, gazed upon it—adored it. Calling forth night and day they ripped it from the other to sail the black seas of space, through vibrant nebulas in bursts of howling laughter—spilling fresh life in their wake. But, as the bigger of them, Som would have it last, always he would win. Until Vi, bleeding and broken—desperate—as her brother tore Morne again from her claws beseeched the emptiness beyond them both;

I wish to be more than my brother.

It grew in answer, that emptiness, and she along with It. Growing and growing until Som’s light sputtered in her own. Pride forced her claws after, stealing scales and flesh and blood and bright, reveling in her power, her success. Unaware of the ways of wishes, that took as much as they gave—more—so much more. Soon Vi shriveled in Its hunger and her sky, her night, rained down upon Morne until only Som remained; dimmer—desperate—and alone.

~ * ~

#writeblr #novel #writing #pale blood #urban fantasy #full chapter #i accidentally deleted the other one when getting rid of the rough draft ones #so #here it is again #with extras

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bigdreamsandwildthings · 8 months

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Review: Delicious Monsters (Liselle Sambury)

Rating: ★★★★.5/5

“I left the forgotten Black girl inside of me. The one who desperately wanted those phone calls from my mom. The one who thought she could never amount to anything. Could never really be loved by anyone. Who thought she would always be her mother’s daughter.

Today that girl saved another one like her. And that means something.”

This was twisty and dark and unsettling, and I devoured it.

Daisy has seen ghosts her entire life, and she's struggled with how different that makes her. Her mom struggles alongside her, and now, all Daisy wants is to get them to a better place so that maybe one day, she can move away and start her own life. When they inherit a mansion in northern Ontario, it seems like the perfect opportunity to get away and find a better situation for themselves, but there are ghosts lurking there that have more in store for Daisy than she knows. Meanwhile, Brittany has her own connections to the "Miracle Mansion", 10 years in the future, and is determined to unearth the truth of the house that changes lives.

I love a haunted house story, and this does have that element to it, but right away it felt different. I loved Blood Like Magic, but then despised Blood Like Fate, so I didn't know what to expect from Liselle going in; however, she shines writing this kind of blend of horror and contemporary YA with something important to say, and this ultimately shone way more than her first series overall for me.

Neither Daisy nor Brittany is a particularly likeable character. Daisy is trying to find herself in the midst of what she's been told she is for her whole life, and understandably, she does that in a man - until he breaks her heart. Brittany is completely mistrustful of everyone, and in the industry she's in, I feel like she has to be; even those she says are her friends, she treats like she's just waiting for them to betray her.

However, these are Black girls who have gone through it in their lives. They have complicated relationships with their mothers that are truly at the heart of the story being told, and I didn't think they had to be likeable. They were resilient, and nuanced, and I wanted them to have what was best for them, no matter what their moms said about that.

I loved the horror side of this one, and I wanted more of it. Some things are written so grotesquely that I had to put the book down and recompose myself a few times, but this element feels like it gets lost as the book progresses.

I also just wanted more explanations for some of those horror-y things that happen. What the FUCK is the deal with the maggots?! That will haunt me for the rest of my days I think, and having a logical explanation would've helped.

Again, this is such a well-written, genre-bending book that has big themes that it deals with really well. I am still thinking about it a week after finishing it, and I know I will be for a long time.

#booklr #book photography #book picture #book review #delicious monsters #liselle sambury #bookworm #bibliophile #ya fiction #ya fantasy #ya horror #book community #book aesthetic #book lover #book nerd #read this book #my photos #my reviews #mine

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bluberimufim · 9 months

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hihihi i saw the analysis you made of your wip black and white and i really liked it, would you mind making more of those? maybe from devourer of souls? i'd love to learn more about seth :) thanks for taking the time to answer!

Hii!! Thank you so much foryour ask!!!

I don't have DoS as developed as my other WIPs, so there's not a lot of Themes(TM) going on right now, but I can tell you some more about Seth, if you'd like!

The main message of "Devourer of Souls" is basically "fuck your birth family!! make a new one for yourself!!!", and Seth's story is 100% that.

When he was a kid, it was detected that he had been born with healing powers, which is extremely rare, and he was immediately sent to a kind of 'healer school' (with some prison undertones...) to get trained. Except, when he started studying, he discovered that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't heal even the smallest bruise with his magic.

In the world of DoS, the whole thing is that souls have power (they're called "souls" but it's more like a life force thing, since anything that is alive has a "soul"). And the way healers work is that they can channel their soul into others to heal them because more life force = heal faster. This means that healers are usualy very short-lived because they eventually run out of soul and then die.

But the thing is: Seth can't access his own soul, which means he can't heal. He has the magic necessary for healing but he can't tap into the source. But he finds that he can absorb others' souls, which you can correctly assume is Very Bad.

One day, in a last-ditch act of desperation, he tries to pry open the access to his soul, and not only does this accidentally kill the patient, but it also fucks up Seth's own health. He gets kicked out and is pretty much left to die.

He resigns himself to a life of exile in some cottage he found but then! There's a random guy! Who broke into his house!

This guy is not some random robber, but the prodigal son of the Goddess of Time and strongest demigod to ever live. He got kicked out by his human family and is trying to find somewhere to stay. His name is Teo btw.

Seth lets Teo stay and, when Teo finds out about his peculiar healing powers and suggests Seth use himself as a conduit for life force, instead of a source. Since he can have as much power as he wants without sucking out his own soul, Seth becomes an extremely powerful healer who can cure anything as long as he drains the life force of something else (mostly plants, sometimes people).

He's so good, in fact, that, at one point in the story, he cured death! The result wasn't very good but he literally brought a person back from the dead by draining the life of an entire forest.

So, yeah, "Devourer of Souls" is about building your own chosen family and celebrating what makes you different! There's some more plot (I only talked about like... a third of it), but I'm still hesitant on the character names and I don't really wanna spoil it out of the gate.

I hope you enjoyed this little infodump of mine! I love talking about my WIP babies characters!

#your asks make me very happy!!#i go eeeeeeeeee #asks #devourer of souls wip #love having a chance to rant about my blorbos

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doomxdriven · 1 year

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MUSE TRACKS !

post 3 — 5 songs that remind you of your muse.

tagged by: stole it from my old blogs lmao tagging: you! if you've never done this before!

foo fighters -- THE PRETENDER: Keep you in the dark ╱ You know they all pretend ╱ Keep you in the dark ╱ And so it all began ╱ Send in your skeletons ╱ Sing as their bones go marching in again╱ They need you buried deep ╱ The secrets that you keep are ever ready ╱ Spinning infinity, boy ╱ The wheel is spinning me ╱ It's never-ending, never-ending ╱ Same old story ╱ What if I say I'm not like the others? ╱ What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays? ╱ You're the pretender ╱ What if I say I will never surrender? ╱ In time or so I'm told I'm just another soul for sale, oh well ╱ We are not permanent we're temporary, temporary ╱ Same old story

cleopatrick -- PEPPERS GHOST: I swear shit hadn't changed since the day that I spawned in╱ And that's what I wanted, my god, holding on to nostalgia ╱ Oh, that's when the whale devoured me entirely, I stood ╱ Behind the teeth and tried to see through all the irony of being duped ╱ It was all a ruse, I'm fucking screwed man ╱ Yeah, I thought I could verify who was on my side, man ╱ I swore I'd seen it with my own two eyes man ╱ I guess I'm a fool for fucking fallacy ╱ When Peppers Ghost gets smoking mirrors in my vicinity, yeah ╱ Yeah, they look fucking real to me

mansions -- DIG UP THE DEAD: Saw that mountain burn or was it in my head? ╱ I'll track down the words if you dig up the dead ╱ Well, I have never been free, but I have always been cheap ╱ No, I have never been free╱ But nothing in my bones can say just where you've been ╱ Nothing in my bones can let me start again, but I'll start again ╱ My eyelids falling down, all my dreams in black and white ╱ I see so clearly now I won't ever get it right

brand new -- AT THE BOTTOM: There's a lake ╱ And at the bottom you'll find all our friends ╱ They don't swim cause they're all dead ╱ We never are what we intend, or invent ╱ 'Cause I make little lies and then I pull them apart ╱ Think something dark's living down in my heart ╱ Some men die under the mountain just looking for gold ╱ Some die looking for a hand to hold

rise against -- PRAYER OF THE REFUGEE: Don't hold me up now I can stand my own ground ╱ I don't need your help now ╱ We are the angry and the desperate ╱ The hungry and the cold ╱ But we've been sweating while you slept so calm in the safety of your home ╱ We've been pulling out the nails that hold up everything you've known

foo fighters -- ALL MY LIFE: All my life I've been searching for something ╱ Something never comes, never leads to nothing ╱ Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close ╱ Closer to the prize at the end of the rope ╱ Hey, don't let it go to waste ╱ I love it but I hate the taste ╱ Done, done and I'm on to the next one

taking back sunday -- BULLET WITH BUTTERFLY WINGS: The world is a vampire, sent to drain ╱ Secret destroyers hold you up to the flames ╱ And what do I get for my pain? ╱ Betrayed desires and a piece of the game Despite all my rage ╱ I am still just a rat in a cage ╱ Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved ╱ And I still believe that I can not be saved

metallica -- THE UNFORGIVEN: They dedicate their lives to running all of his ╱ He tries to please them all ╱ This bitter man he is ╱ Throughout his life the same ╱ He's battled constantly ╱ This fight he cannot win ╱ A tired man they see no longer cares ╱ What I've felt, what I've known ╱ Never shined through in what I've shown ╱ Never free, never me ╱ So I dub thee unforgiven

brand new -- NORO: Little light lead us through the night ╱ And if we die burn down the forest ╱ I'm on my way to hell ╱ Why doesn't anyone I know sleep? ╱ Are they all just scared of their dreams?╱ When they lay their heads down at night ╱ What are they haunted by? ╱ Why won't anyone just close their eyes? ╱ Could it hurt them to rest for a while? ╱ Getting dark ╱ Running out of luck ╱ How am I ever gonna know peace? ╱ How will I ever see the light through the trees? ╱ I want to burn down everything we've begun ╱ I want to kill and eat my young

phantogram -- BLACK OUT DAYS: Hide the sun ╱ A thousand voices howling in my head ╱ Speak in tongues ╱ Dig a hole ╱ Fireworks exploding in my hands ╱ If I could paint the sky all the stars would shine a bloody red

marilyn manson -- PERSONAL JESUS: Your own personal Jesus ╱ Someone to hear your prayers ╱ Someone who cares ╱ Someone who's there ╱ Flesh and bone by the telephone ╱ Lift up the receiver I'll make you a believer ╱ Things on your chest ╱ You need to confess ╱ I will deliver ╱ You know I'm a forgiver ╱ Reach out, touch faith

#rudbornn: dash memes #jin: dash memes #bansui: dash memes #//im love music it fuels muse

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Kuroshitsuji: Book of One Shots

AssassinOrTemplar

Summary:

A collection of short stories involving you and all your favourite Black butler characters.

I sincerely hope you enjoy~

Chapter 1: To Summon a Demon (Ciel x Demon¡Reader)

Chapter Text

Someone. Anyone. Help me!

The empty scream was all that was required to wake you from a decade long slumber; it was a common occurrence to slumber on for years after a feeding as you chose to dine only on souls of a superlative quality – and they were quite a rarity.

Darkness – your darkness – emerges from the ground like a living, breathing creature, prepared to devour all who are idiotic enough to interfere with the finalization of your summoning. Inky shadows writhe across the blood stained floor and walls, reaching out with grasping fingers and silencing those who cower underneath masks and velvet robes.

Tortured eyes watch from beneath overgrown bangs as blood dances mid-air, porcelain masks shatter, and lives become non-existent.

And then, the creature – you.

A demon.

His demon.

It was a female, from what he could derive in his current state; she was little more than a wisp of a creature with diminutive limbs, though it was terrifyingly clear that bulk was unnecessary, as she seemed many times stronger than her human prey. Bipedal with an elongated muzzle which consisted of inch long teeth, each one serrated like a carving knife. Truly this was a creature conjured from the deepest pits of the Underworld.

Stooped and drenched in blood, you incline your head towards the incarcerated child in a graceful, near elegant manner. There resides a trauma deep within those azure eyes which sends a delightful thrill coursing through your bloodstream – forming a contract isn’t any fun if the signatory shows no fear.

With a predatory grin, you stalk towards the cage. “You have summoned me here.”

The child shifts further away to a safer distance.

That’s right. Cower you pathetic little brat.

“That can never be changed,” you continue, every step, every word, slow and deliberate, “and nothing sacrificed can ever be regained.”

You squeeze yourself through the metal bars keeping him contained and claw your away across the ground, eyes dilated and dancing with a maddening hunger. It was an over exaggeration but you were the epitome of fear – it would be an embarrassment to your very reputation were you to suddenly begin playing nice.

“Now...choose.”

The scent of desperation was absolutely mouth-watering. Surely no one would begrudge you a taste? Just a lick?

Yanking the child forward by the wrist, you relish the sight of fear contorting his features before you drag your tongue up his cheek at an agonisingly slow pace. Oh, yes. Purely delicious.

The child recoils and aggressively wipes the saliva from his skin using his sleeve. “Stop playing games.”

You fight the desire to laugh in his face. “Oh, feisty, aren’t we?”

It was adorable when these humans attempted to intimidate a demon with false bravado. They seemed convinced that their pathetic excuse for lives were somehow untouchable...but you were more than happy to rectify such arrogant optimism if given the opportunity.

“Demon,” the child begins, expression growing harder, “I want to form a contract with you!”

You lick the blood from your claws and smirk. “So you have chosen to stray from the light and traverse the path towards Hell. Very well. I will happily oblige.” Your claws take possession of his face, piercing the flesh enough to draw blood. “Let us engrave the contract on each of our bodies. The more conspicuous the location, the more power you will control. Now where-”

“I don’t care where!” He interjects and slaps your hand away. “I just want power strong enough to never lose anyone again!”

“Such greed for one of such a small stature.”

Perhaps this kid wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“Alright then, we shall use the part in which reflects this entirely hopeless world: that freakishly large eye of yours."

A scream is wrenched from the back of his throat as your hand shoots out and collides with his right eye. High-pitched and raw. The type of scream only a young child could conceive. You observe him with great intensity, deriving pleasure from the little boys agony; the eyes wide with horror, mouth rigid and open, chalky face gaunt and immobile, and fists clenched with blanched knuckles and nails biting into the dirtied skin of his palms.

Blood cascades from the freshly branded eye and stains the ground, letting you know the contract had been completed. You relinquish your hold on him and cup his chin.

“Now you have obtained the power of a demon. You shall never have to bow down to anyone ever again.” You rise to your full, intimidating height. “You may be as proud as a King. And as loud as a beast. Release your inner desires and fulfil your wildest dreams.”

With a flick of the wrist, the cage imprisoning him collapses, granting him a freedom you doubt he’s had in a very long time. You offer a hand. “Come now, young Master. What is your name?”

The trepidation is erased from his features as he accepts your proffered hand and lifts himself to his feet. You tighten your grip on him as he stumbles.

“My name...,” he begins slowly, almost hesitant, “is Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive. Next in line for Head of the House of Phantomhive.”

“Oh, is that right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Humans were such an awful bunch of liars – and everyone called you a monster. But his name mattered little anyway. As long as the brat honoured the contract and you were rewarded with his soul, then he could call himself anything he liked.

“In that case,” your lips twitch in amusement as a swirl of shadows envelops you, “I must also take a more appropriate form as a servant in one of that position.”

The shadows dissipate and a soft sigh falls from the lips of your new human form. You roll your shoulders and neck, loosening the muscles. These human bodies were always such a pain to break in, but with every new contract comes unpleasant requirements.

Feeling a tad more relaxed, you place a hand over your heart and bow. “I am at your service, my tiny Lord.”

The young child’s reaction....was not what you were expecting. Was your new appearance really so baffling to comprehend? Oh dear, you didn’t accidentally give yourself an additional limb that had no place on a human body, did you? A quick glance reveals the perfect amount of appendages. So what was the problem?

You had to ask, “Is this form not to your liking?”

When he hesitates your eyes narrow.

“Does this lack of response stem from the fact that I am a female?”

“What? No, I—”

“Because I have heard such bias is considered sexist and quite common amongst humans.”

“No!” He shouted, appearing rather flustered by your accusation. “That form is fine.”

You eye him suspiciously for a few seconds more before smiling. “Wonderful. Then let us get down to business.” A table and two chairs materialise from a mist of darkness. “We must now discuss the details of the contract.”

An undignified ‘huh?’ was the response given.

Children. How annoying.

You take him by the shoulders and force him into one of the chairs. “You wished for power strong enough so that you would never lose anyone ever again, and that is fine. However, we must go into more detail with that request.”

“More detail?”

“No being will ever enter a contract of eternal work with no concrete goal. Trades and deals only work because both sides have something to gain; no one willingly enters a contract from which they only stand to lose from.”

Ciel stiffens upon feeling nails dig into his shoulders. You smile at him in a way which could be friendly or threatening. “You understand, yes?”

The fear is once again wiped from his face and replaced by indignation. “Don’t touch me."

Normally you would have been highly offended by such rudeness – especially from a child of all things – but this time you simply couldn’t be upset no matter how hard you tried. Why? Simply put, it was because he was absolutely adorable. That jutted lower lip mixed with such raw hatred...lovely.

This child was every demons dream.

Cupping his cheeks – and ignoring his protests in the process – you lean in close, fighting the urge to take another lick of his porcelain skin. You grin.

“We are going to have a lot of fun together, my young lord.”

Chapter 2: A Kitten's Greed (Sebastian X Neko¡Reader)

Chapter Text

Dedicated to my dear friend ScreechingLife

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another sneeze.

That’s the fifth one in twelve minutes.

Sebastian placed a slice of Gateau au chocolat in front of the young Earl with narrowed eyes. “Are you coming down with a cold, Master?” He removed an embroidered handkerchief from his breast pocket and proceeded to wipe the snot currently escaping the teenagers’ reddened nose.

Shock flittered across Ciel’s face before anger – caused by embarrassment, no less – contorted his features. He slapped the butler’s hand away with a scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous; I don’t get sick and I certainly don’t need you to clean my nose. I’m not an invalid.”

Amusement danced in a pair of crimson orbs. “Did I overstep my boundaries? My apologies, Master. In the future, I shall stand aside whilst you spread your mucus over every surface.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed faintly as they peered over the top of the paperwork in his hand. “Don’t get cheeky.”

Sebastian simply smiled and stood off to the side as Ciel set down the paperwork and took a bite of his cake. But then the young Earl’s face became rigid. His nose twitched, azure eyes turning watery. Sebastian glanced at him with furrowed brows, the top half of his body angling away slightly as the young Earl sneezed, mucus and cake crumbs splattering across the desk.

An awkward silence settled over the room as the pair stared at one another.

“Just walk away,” Ciel eventually grumbled, dark lines covering his face.

Sebastian didn’t need to be told twice.

“As you wish, my Lord.”

The demon butler departed and smiled once alone in the hallway. There was no mystery as to why his young master was currently suffering: you had returned. He removed his pocket watch to check the time. Ah, right on schedule; your punctuality was impeccable.

Sebastian made his way to the kitchen, locking the door behind him after ensuring none of the other members of staff were lurking. “Now...where are you hiding?” He murmured, crimson orbs doing an acute sweep of the area.

And there you were, hiding; your long, lustrous tail swayed in a way that was most enticing – it was enough to have the butler’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.

Sebastian stalked forward and peeled open the pantry door even more to find you stooped behind a few hefty bags of flour, a slice of crustless bread in your possession. Your head shoots up, startled, causing an amused smile to spread across Sebastian’s face.

“Must we go through this rigmarole every day? If you desire something to eat, you need only ask.”

Removing your fangs from the slice of bread, you leave the pantry and straighten up. “You criticise despite knowing I’ll never change – perhaps instead of trying to reform me, you simply plan ahead and greet me with something tasty that I can sink my fangs into.”

One dark brow arches. “You wound me, my Lady; all this time I was led to believe that I was the tasty morsel in which you cared to sink your fangs into.”

A soft noise of amusement slips from your lips and you smile. “You are, but despite how delicious you may be, a lady still requires an entrée before digging into the main course.”

The butler shakes his head in a manner which insinuates you were a troublesome child. “A proper lady knows not to be so greedy.”

Your ears perk at the slight disapproval woven into those words. It would appear that he was in one of his ‘moods’ again; they occurred typically after a particularly strenuous day of dealing with the young Earl of Phantomhive - however, he knew better than to take his bitter exasperation out on you.

Cupping his chin, you offer a pout which could be taken as an act of condescension, “Our tongue has clearly tasted sour grapes today, hasn’t it?” Your hand retracts and you turn your back on him. “If you’re not going to fawn over me today then there’s really no point in staying.”

Unexpectedly, the demon chuckles, a low and husky sound which causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. An arm slithers around your waist and the firm line of Sebastian’s body suddenly presses against your back. “Stubborn and greedy,” he purrs, the damp heat of his breath tickling your ear, “what an entitled kitten we are.”

The gentle caress of gloved fingers does not go unnoticed and you find yourself mewling, already close to melting in his embrace.

“I suppose I only have myself to blame,” he sighs, though the corners of his mouth quirk upwards into a faint smirk. “After all, I have spoiled you.”

A pleasurable shiver shoots down the length of your spine upon feeling the moist flick of a tongue across your cheek. “You love spoiling me,” you force out, the words a mere whisper. Damn this creature. Everything about him was so intoxicating – and the bastard knew it.

He turns you around in the circle of his arms and cups your chin, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip. “How could I not? When I first saw you, you were far too irresistible to ignore – those large and frightened eyes, those perfectly pointed ears raised in alarm, that irresistibly coloured tail bristled and damaged.” He smiled, the tip of his finger slipping past your lips and grazing your tongue. “So frail. So dependent. I couldn’t just leave you out in the cold.”

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder whether or not the amount of delight he received from your previous incompetency should concern you, but you came to realise after months of being treated like an invalid, that he rather enjoyed having you rely on him...or more that he loved to dote on you. Bathing, feeding, even dressing – whatever it was you needed, he gave.

Your fingers curl into the lapels of his tail coat, “Will you continue to spoil me, Sebastian? No one treats me as good as you do.”

Crimson orbs flash and a set of fangs reveal themselves when he smiles. “I find it rather unnecessary to ask such a question.” He takes your hand in his and his lips sweep upwards from your knuckles to the exposed skin of your neck, “To hold out my hand and save you from the darkness is what I’m here for after all.” He meets your eye and smirks. “And I’m not particularly fond of the idea of someone else trying to lead my kitten astray, especially after it took me so long to tame her.”

You scoff and angle your head away from him in a stubborn manner. “Tame? You flatter yourself, darling; no man can tame me.”

The sound of his laughter occupied the kitchen, and if the sound wasn’t so delicious, you probably would have slapped him. Or at least tried to.

“Is that so?”

He smiled and something flashed within his eyes. Next thing you knew, you were sandwiched between the wall and hard line of Sebastian’s body, his face hovering dangerously close to your own.

“S-Sebastian!” You gasp, breathless, crimson slowly devouring your body as both hands are suddenly pinned to the wall above.

His voice lowers to a deep and seductive purr, “Clearly I’m going to have to try even harder this time.”

Chapter 3: Fear Won't Last (Agni x Reader) (Modern AU)

Chapter Text

Social Anxiety Disorder • SAD • Social Phobia •

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

Meaning:

A chronic mental health condition in which social interaction causes irrational anxiety.

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

The first encounter had been a mere accident.

Cersei Lannister's permanent conniving smirk remained frozen on the television screen whilst you lolloped about in the kitchenette, preparing a hot drink and something sweet to sink your teeth into.

The thunderstorm that had been impertinent enough to negate yesterday's promising forecast had finally begun to settle down, now leaving only the comforting pattering of raindrops against the windows in its place. Not that you minded the more miserable side of the weather – it was actually the perfect atmosphere for a relaxing day at home crammed with television and fatty foods.

During the short journey back to the couch, you can't help but steal an innocently curious glance outside the window, or more specifically, into the apartment directly across the street. You hadn't meant to be a nosey Nellie, but it was a lovely apartment – so much nicer than your own. Expensive furniture, immaculate, exquisite artwork...truly an interior worthy of admiration.

A flash of exotic olive skin captured your attention.

And that's when you saw him.

The man with the silver eyes.

He must have only moved in recently for you were fairly certain that apartment previously belonged to a middle-aged fellow morally opposed to showering.

But this man...

As though sensing someone gawking, the man abruptly paused mid push up and angled his head towards the window. He caught your eye and held your unwavering stare.

Now a normal person would have hastily turned away by now after getting caught, but you were unable to move. Fear kept you firmly rooted to the floorboards, unwilling to relinquish its possessive grasp. Those piercing orbs of molten gold tore open your chest and invaded your soul; even though being wrapped up in a pair of fluffy pyjamas, you had never felt so naked and exposed.

Then he smiled, and the chains that bound you were broken.

With a frightened squeak, you rushed towards the window and yanked the curtains shut, keeping you safe from the world's prying eyes.

At least for the time being.

********************

The second encounter occurred a few days later.

Wrapped in nothing but a towel and free of burdens, you danced jovially around the lounge, belting out lyrics in time with the Hamilton soundtrack currently blaring in the background – for those twenty minutes, you were Alexander Hamilton.

You prance across the rug, gaining momentum, and leap onto the couch cushions. You dip and sway, bounce and wiggle, all for an imaginary audience.

Or so you thought...

Turns out there sat one highly invested onlooker across the street; sultry lips had curled upwards into an amused smile when first catching sight of you attempting to perform a pirouette, only to lose your balance and flop haphazardly onto the couch with a giggle. His smile morphed into a grin when you finally looked over, (colour) eyes blinking owlishly.

How long had he been watching?!

Nearly choking on your own humiliation, you scramble off the couch and fumble towards the window with the intent of closing the curtains. But once touching the heavy fabric, you find yourself pausing, and instead redirect your undivided attention to the silver-eyed stranger.

Why was he smiling? Rarely anyone even glanced in your direction, let alone smile – and without a single trace of mockery!

The man raised a hand and waved.

You would have reciprocated had you not been more inclined to admire the defined, deliciously toned muscles decorating his shoulder and arm. When he lowered his arm, those muscles moved and rippled under satin looking skin.

You find your gaze automatically drawn to him despite the fear currently worming its way into your heart. There was something hypnotic about this individual. Something that went beyond the perfectly sculpted torso he so proudly left on display for all the neighbours to ogle. He must have been working out again if those flushed cheeks and glistening bare chest were anything to go by. You try not to come off as a pervert by allowing your eyes to freely roam his body, but it was difficult to ignore the tantalising sight of a V-line peaking out over the dipping waistband of black sweatpants.

After a highly thorough visual examination, your eyes finally settle on his face, just in time to catch his eyes finishing their own perusal.

And then you shut the curtains.

******************

The third meeting...

You had been confronted by rhythmic rap upon the front door one evening, which was extremely peculiar – for the past three years residing in the same apartment, not one person had come to visit, which is what your heart desired. To be quite honest, you doubted many people were actually aware of your existence.

The walls appeared to be closing in with each hesitant step taken towards the door, the air decreasing until only shallow sips of breath were attainable.

Silver eyes were the first thing to greet you.

His smile was warm and genuine; he had come to visit in hopes of striking up a conversation, apparently intent on getting to know you better. But your fear would not allow that. He was too close. Far too close. Your personal space was being invaded and you didn't much care for it.

A large male hand slammed against the wooden surface of the door when you went to slam it in his face, only serving to create additional stress for your person, but this exotic stranger failed to take notice of how distraught you were becoming. Instead he introduced himself – Agni was his name – and asked for an invitation inside – though that was an invitation which you hastily declined. More force was applied to the door on your end but it had little to no impact.

My, my, the man was persistent.

Most women would probably find such a trait to be endearing, but for you it was nothing short of an inconvenience.

It was obvious the look of distress upon your face went unnoticed as Agni continued speaking, hoping to obtain as much information from you as possible; what your name was, what you did for a living, if you were currently involved with someone, what your hobbies were, how you spend your evenings, if you'd like to grab a drink sometime?

But all you could do was choke out breathless strings of nonsensical stammers and incomprehensible syllables, feeling beads of perspiration poise delicately upon your hairline. The familiar sting of tears is the cue your bottom lip needed in order to begin quivering.

Crying before a stranger...how humiliating.

Agni seems taken aback by the reaction to his persistence and his hand slips from the door, granting you the opportunity to swiftly throw the door closed, locking it for good measure.

You have just enough time to shout an apology before hearing him disappear down the hallway.

****************

Agni raises his glass to the window with a smile warm enough to melt butter.

Your own glass is raised.

Were anyone to cast an inquisitive glance in your direction, they'd no doubt come to the conclusion that you had fallen victim to insanity. But they would be wrong. For if they looked hard enough, they would eventually see that, despite there being no one else in the apartment, you were in no way alone.

Agni presses an open notebook firmly against the window of his apartment. You look beautiful is scrawled across the pages in letters large enough for you to read from your current position.

Interaction of this sort had been occurring on a daily basis for the past two weeks. You still couldn't understand why the man was so relentless in his pursuit of your affections, but the amount of effort he put into creating some type of relationship with you was incredibly flattering. No one had ever gone through so much trouble solely for you, so when he offered an invitation to dinner, you had to accept.

Of course, it wasn't what anyone would call a typical dinner; you'd much rather be by his side, feeling the soft, hot touch of his hand across a dinner table, losing yourself in the intoxicating scent of men's cologne, rather than being tucked away in your apartment having to fantasize. But you weren't ready to take such a humungous step, and somehow, Agni understood and accepted such a fact.

With your own notebook ready and waiting by your hand, you flip to a fresh page. You're going to make me blush again. You hold it up for him to read.

There was that gorgeous smile again.

If that happens, it means I'm doing a good job!

As if on cue, heat clawed its way onto your cheeks, leaving you to momentarily wonder if Agni could see the effect he had on you from where he sat.

You give a shake of your head. So cocky!

I believe the word you're looking for is ‘confident'.

Hmm...no. No, cocky was definitely the right word. I could have been rude and used the word ‘arrogant' instead.

His hand shoots upwards and clutches at his chest. You know where to strike so it hurts!

A soft laugh slips from your lips and you rest your elbows atop the table, taking a few seconds to admire him. There was a new beauty to his face every time you saw him. In the beginning it was mostly physical attributes, such as the unique colour of his eyes, or the perfectly sculpted physique which he allowed you to ogle as much as your heart desired. But lately, you could notice the things not everyone could; there was always a glimmer within his eyes whenever the pair of you conversed, or a smile which always threatened to split his face in half the moment your eyes connected, or the way he'd continuously steal glances into your apartment when he believed you weren't paying close enough attention. They were only little things, but they were what mattered most.

Agni wiggles his notebook against the glass to earn your attention. You're staring.

You smile softly. Is that a bad thing?

No. As long as you don't mind being stared at in return?

If you're the one doing the staring, then I don't mind.

He sets his notebook aside and places both hands against the glass, which compels you to do the same. It was crazy. You both were close enough to see one another's entire life, yet it felt as though there was so much more than a narrow street separating you – keeping you from being together.

Guilt had your hands falling from the glass and towards the notebook.

You needed to know.

Why are you doing this?

Even from here, it was easy to spot the confusion contorting such handsome features. He picks up his own notebook. Doing what?

Wasting time on a lost cause.

I don't understand.

Agni...surely you can't be happy with this arrangement? I'm not, and I'm the one that's keeping us divided! How can you be so willing to accept this situation?

Agni brings the marker to his lips and reads your words over and over again. You watch him with bated breath, fearing his response.

He begins to write, holding up his answer a minute later. I know what it's like to be consumed by fear. Every day is a struggle. A battle no one else can see. But fear is never permanent. It goes away. And until that happens, I will be here, waiting to help you take the next step.

Something clicks inside of you after reading those words.

You find yourself writing a response before your brain even has a chance to comprehend it. You press it against the window.

I'm ready to take the next step...♡

#black butler fanfiction

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shadowofchwe · 2 years

Text

darling | joshua hong

How can something so sweet sound so filthy when it's coming from him...

❣️ Pairing: boyfriend!joshua x reader

❣️ Word Count: 818

❣️ Rating: 18+

❣️ Genre: Smut, literally porn with absolutely minimal plot, hint of fluff, established relationship

❣️ Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (y'all be safe pls), rough sex, dom!joshua, sub!reader, dirty talk, praise, degradation (the term slut is used a few times), brief spanking, hair pulling, making out, aftercare, it's soft at the end 🥺

A/N: Hello! My name is Kenz, and I'm not new to writing but I am new to writing for Seventeen so this is my first attempt. I'm a newer carat, only been here since the beginning of the year, and I ult Vernon and Joshua. Something about Shua saying darling had my brain spiraling until this idea was born and I had to just get it out lmao so here's 800 words of filth straight from my brain 🤩 I've been writing on my main blog for BTS for a little over a year and have a whole masterlist on there if you have any interest in checking it out! I hope you like this if you decide to give it a read and I hope you'll look forward to more stories from me cause I already have another, longer Shua fic in the works 👀 This is literally pretty much all smut btw so fic after the cut!

Masterlist

Darling.

A term of such loving adoration. And a complete contrast to the way Joshua was currently fucking you. Bent over your bed, face down in the mattress, and his hand buried in your hair as he held you down while the other secured your hands behind your back. His hips were slamming into yours hard enough to bruise as he drove his cock into your battered cunt again. And again.

"Fuck. Look at you just lying there taking it, darling. Always so good for me, aren't you?" Joshua praised you, the deep rumble of his voice making you clench around him.

"Shua, fuck. You feel so good." you gasped out as each thrust pushed your body back and forth along the sheets.

"My perfect little slut. You'll be dripping for days when I'm done with you, darling."

Joshua's words fell like velvet on your ears, and all you could do was whimper into the mattress in response.

"Your cunt is squeezing me so tight, shit. You know I love feeling you fall apart on my cock. Can never get enough of it." the man above you growled, releasing your hands in favor of delivering a harsh slap to your ass.

Your mumbled moan dissolved into the sheets, tears building in your eyes at how good it all felt. Joshua's cock roughly splitting you open and making you feel like your body was coming apart from the inside out.

"Shua..." you panted out, "Please...close."

He hummed, and you could just picture the cocky smirk that must've been taking up his gorgeous face right now.

"I'm not sure I'm entirely convinced. Why don't you beg for me some more, darling. Beg for my cock. Beg for me to fuck you." Joshua taunted above you, his hand in your hair tugging at the strands to pull your head up slightly.

"Joshua. Fuck. Please. Wanna cum all over your cock. Want you to fill me up. Need it, Shua. Need you, please." you pleaded, too desperate for release to try and test him like you normally would.

You heard him snarl before you were being pulled up by your hair, your back hitting the hard planes of Joshua's chest.

"Mmm. I love it when you ask so nicely. I'll make you come for me, darling." he practically purred into your ear, and you felt his fingers on your neglected clit a moment later.

You cried out at the stimulation, but it was quickly swallowed by Joshua's mouth harshly covering your own. You were shaking in his hold, and the only thing keeping you upright was the hand that was holding you against him while also furiously stroking your clit.

"Fuck, Joshua!" you sobbed into his mouth, your tremors growing more violent.

The hand in your hair traveled down to spread across your neck. The way he was devouring your mouth was already stealing all the oxygen in the room, so he didn't apply any pressure and instead opted to just let the weight of his hand rest there. It was like yet another reminder that you were his.

It also felt like your only tie to reality at the moment because his skilled fingers at your clit and his cock reaching the perfect spot inside of you had you closer and closer to slipping into euphoria.

"Don't pass out on me now, darling. My good girl, you've done so well for me." Joshua breathed as he finally parted from your mouth for a moment.

"You're...fucking...the life...out of me..." you stuttered out, a dazed laugh escaping you at the same time.

Joshua chuckled before pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

"Admit it though, you love when I fuck you half to death." he retorted cockily, his fingers on your clit increasing to a punishing pace.

"Fuuuuuuuck. I do, but...you might actually...kill me this time." you argued weakly as you clenched extra tight around him.

"Alright, alright," Joshua started, still chuckling slightly, "I have really put you through it tonight. Come for me now, darling. Want you to be a good little slut and soak my cock."

You let out a choked scream as your orgasm spread through your body like wildfire. The most beautiful groan sounded from behind you, Joshua's thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.

"You feel too good, darling. Shit." he swore under his breath, his cock twitching inside you and filling you up a moment later.

You felt like you were floating somewhere else when he pulled out and then carefully lifted you into his arms to carry you into the bathroom. One relaxing and much needed shower later had the two of you curled up under the covers. Joshua's fingers wove affectionately through your hair and your head was on his chest, right over his heart. The word fell from his lips once more.

Darling.

It was his promise, his confession, and his devotion all in one.

#seventeen #joshua hong #seventeen smut #joshua smut #seventeen fic #joshua fic

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

In The Shadow

Summary: Geralt and you are captured by the Darkling and about to find out his means of punishment are quite unusual.

Pairing: General Kirigan x Reader | Geralt x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Warning: 18+, Smut, dark themes. Dubious consent but I'll tag this as non-con just to be safe, mind manipulation, cuckolding, sex (p in v), voyeurism, captivity, bodily fluids, breeding. Proceed with caution.

I give no permission for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it.

A/N: Based on an anon request I received! This is the first Ben Barnes story and the first cuckolding story I write. Hoping I did well. Many thanks to @the-soot-sprite for reviewing this for me.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

In the Shadow

Kirigan was darkness itself, a shadow - seeping into the cracks inside your mind, altering your thoughts, your desires; love turned to pain. Hatred turned to lust, and all that you were before him remained nothing but black mist.

No. You did not want this.

At least that’s what you kept chanting inside your heart as the General had you sat, spread open upon his thighs with his hands conquering every inch of your flesh.

“She’s mine now, Witcher. Mine to pummel.”

No! You did not want him.

Then why were you slippery-slick with desperation? The pulsating rhythm between your thighs protesting with the rage of copulation: ‘I shall not be denied!’

Helpless, you tried to focus your blurry sight on the rust that devoured the iron bars, upon the prisoner who held onto them with hands stained of dirt and blood. Growling like an animal in its cage, Geralt rattled the iron, his honey-gold gaze kissed with red at the sight of Kirigan who had his hands trailing beneath your skirts.

“I can smell it…” the Darkling whispered against your neck, prying your legs further open for Geralt to see your glistening sex.

A pitiful cry escaped your lips, somehow, you could smell yourself too and the scent merely grew stronger as Kirigan ground his hardness against your ass.

“Maddening, isn’t it? The notion that I am going to slip myself inside you while your lover is standing right over there without any chance of rescuing you?” He provoked and took a nip of your neck.

“Did you two really think you can cross me without a price? Or perhaps this is what you wanted?”

“If you dare touch her…” Geralt barked, the veins in his forehead and throat bulging. Never have you seen him this full of rage, and Kirigan hasn’t even begun this torture.

Letting out a roar of laughter, the General sent his fingers to gently skim from your knees to your groin, pulling unbidden moans from your throat.

“Would I dare? Just look at her,” Kirigan taunted. “The dew is drizzling down her sweet little cunt, like fruit too ripe just begging to be plucked. I think your little mistress wants to feel me inside… don’t you?” He asked with a snarl and reached a hand behind your back.

“General...” you shivered and shook a face full of tears at Geralt.

The metallic clink of Kirigan’s belt being undone reverberated through the dungeon a dozen times more before something fleshy and hot grazed your inner thigh. There it was again, the ebony mist, pervading your mind, shrouding your thoughts and making them his own. Despite the screams of protest in your heart, your core twitched and fluttered, mesmerised by the thought of having Kirigan fuck you while Geralt was forced to watch.

Your glossy eyes met Geralt’s golden gaze in a silent plea for forgiveness.

You wanted this, your little hole gaping for the other man, clenching as he nudged the heart-shaped tip between your lust-swollen lips to tease you. A part of you dared to tear your eyes from the Witcher and peer upon Kirigan’s shaft; though you caved in for only a moment, enough to entwine your entire body with blazing flames.

He was marvellously large, almost as big as your Geralt. Briefly, you wondered if he would feel the same but your thoughts turned to dust in your skull at the sensation of his cock spearing inside you.

Yelps, growls, and shouts of protest boomed through each tunnel in the dungeon. Whatever false tenderness Kirigan presented before was abandoned as he impaled you wholly on his large shaft, pressing himself so deep that his sack was pressed tightly against your engorged lips.

For a sliver of a moment, he held himself still, making you feel the throbbing rage of his cock deep inside your gut. The pounding in your heart was so strong you heard it booming in your ears, muffling the shouts and barks of the Witcher, who made every attempt to break his cage.

“I will kill you!”

Kirigan chortled again. His long, slender fingers lifted to your neck and captured your jaw. He dug his thumb and index finger into the hollow of your cheeks while slowly beginning to move inside you, ending each thrust with a husky groan. Wet and sultry as you were, your walls strained against his invasion, almost incapable of taking him fully, though he ignored their protest and only sunk deeper.

“She is taking me so well,” Kirigan hummed with delight while you cried in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your tearful eyes remained focused on Geralt, trying to imagine it was him who ploughed you, but with every moan, Kirigan huffed against your ear, with each pull and shove he made between your lips, your mind fell into a dark delirium and then it was no longer Geralt or Kirigan but both of them inside you at once, each man using your body to their selfish pleasure.

Unwittingly your hips swayed, meeting the General’s ruts, sinking down to take him even deeper.

“Dirty little whore,” Kirigan praised and nipped the thin skin of your neck before increasing the pace of his thrusts.

“Are you enjoying yourself as much as your woman is, dear Geralt? Would you mind dipping in later for sloppy seconds?”

Blood mingled with rust trickled down Geralt’s palms, coating the iron bars he held squeezed between his trembling fingers. Despite his waning strength, fire still burned in orbs, though it seemed that Kirigan’s shadow had manipulated him as well and he too had succumbed to lust.

Geralt was hard. Harder than you’ve ever seen before. Sweat layered his coarse face; the look that he gave you assured you the beast within him wanted nothing more than to break through its cage and rip you apart - perhaps join Kirigan in his defilement and claim your mouth... or ass.

As aroused as he was, he refused to relieve himself and only his glare spoke of the atrocities of his mind.

“Forgive me,” you mouthed before you let out a moan, allowing pleasure to sweep away whatever dignity was left to you. You could feel Kirigan swell larger inside you, and your slit instinctively clutched around him, the tidal bliss beginning to bloom like a ring of fire inside your womb.

Sensing your nearing ecstasy, Kirigan sent his hands to grab your thighs and held them spread mid-air while slamming into you with punishing might.

“Your witcher can’t breed you, can he?” he questioned breathlessly, “but I can…”

“No!” Geralt rasped and once again rattled the bars, in a failed attempt to break out.

“I think I will fill that womb full of my seed,” The Darkling groaned.

You cried out, whether, in pleasure or protest, you knew not. Your trembling cunt had already made its decision for you, suckling and milking around Kirigan’s cock with ardent enthusiasm as your pleasure erupted through. It was all he needed for his release. With a shout, he flooded your canal until your womb overflowed with his thick elixir and slow, thick rivulets drizzled down his shaft.

The cacophonous tantrum died all too sudden, leaving nothing but breathless pants and gasps and the trickle of water that echoed somewhere in the depth of the dungeon. Slow and careful, Kirigan released your thighs from his grasp, settling them down on the ground. His chocolate-brown eyes met Geralt with a dark smile glinting amidst them.

“I wonder…” he murmured joyfully, “which was it that aroused you more, my dear Witcher? Her? Myself? Or both?”

Credit: I do not own Shadow and Bone, General Kirigan, The Witcher or Geralt of Rivia

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #ben barness #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia x reader #henry cavill x reader #general kirigan #Ben Barnes

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 3 years

Note

Can u make mc is the actual owner of Cerberus when he was a pup but villagers killed him because they thought that he was a monster and what how would the brothers and the undateable react to that when mc started to cry when she saw Cerberus headcanons

Oh Beans! I totally spaced when reading this and only have the brothers.

I'll post what I have here right now, but this will also be on AO3, so if you keep checking/subscribe there, you'll get a notification when I've added the undateables! It might not be for a while though, since I'm about to start school again ^-^;;

Who's a Good Boy?

The Guard Dog of the House of Hades. A vicious, three-headed hellhound that only the fallen Morningstar himself could command. Unfathomably massive. Devourer of demons, angels, and humans alike. Notoriously difficult to groom.

That is Cerberus, Lucifer’s extremely volatile pet named after a figure from Greek mythology for reasons no one truly understands. The creature has struck fear into the hearts of its housemates, and the Devildom at large, for what feels like ages.

So when MC cries upon seeing the wolf-dog for the first time, none of the brothers are especially surprised. How could a human cross such a monster’s path and live, after all?

Except those who weep in fear usually don’t then barrel full-tilt into one of the monster’s furry legs, babbling incoherently about how they thought they’d never see him again.

One of Cerberus’ heads leans down to the human, and the brothers panic, fearing the worst. It opens its mouth, revealing razor sharp fangs—

And licks MC’s entire body in a saliva-filled canine kiss. Now covered in tears and drool, MC laughs as they shake themself off, teasing the hellhound by saying that they already showered today, thank you very much.

“So, did you miss me as much as I missed you?” they ask, giving Cerberus’ central head some under the chin scritches (the only part of its head they can currently reach).

Cerberus boofs loudly, enormous tail waving back and forth at an increasingly hazardous pace.

Lucifer

What.

Lucifer is dealing with a Lot right now. He almost lost the exchange student to his own dog, except apparently Cerberus used to belong to MC?! How?!

He orders Cerberus to back away from the human, part of him still convinced that this is somehow a combination of MC being mistaken and Cerberus playing with its food, but the hellhound actually growls at him and picks MC up by the back of their shirt, tossing them onto its back.

MC, in response, finds new places to scritch.

He stares at the scene for a few minutes, unable to process what his life has become.

Later, once Cerberus finally agrees to let MC leave, they explain to him that Cerberus used to be a puppy in the human world.

Obviously, he was immediately noted as strange due to his three heads, and the people of MC’s village believed him to be an omen of death. MC themself didn’t care, and just saw “lil’ Cerb” as a puppy like any other, albeit an exceptionally drooly one.

He used to be more or less normal dog-sized, but it quickly became obvious that Cerberus was growing fast, and would be much larger than even a wolf by the time he was done. He also became harder and harder to hide.

Unfortunately, one night they awoke to poor Cerberus being chased out into the night by a mob, never to return.

They assumed the worst, mourned, and got on with their life as best as they could. But seeing Cerberus— they knew it was the same dog as soon as they saw him — brought all those emotions right back to the surface.

It’s not hard to adapt to these strange circumstances. Lucifer is actually quite relieved to have someone who is both willing and able to safely help him in caring for Cerberus, and both MC and the hellhound delight in each other’s company.

Lucifer also won’t deny the pride he feels upon seeing MC, the one he loves, getting along so well with his son dog.

Mammon

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The P A N I C of seeing MC within bite-chomp-murder-kill distance of Cerberus nearly killed Mammon.

What the hell is he supposed to do against that furball?! MC’s dead meat, a chew toy, he can’t save them again—

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY D O I N G ? !

Torn between passing out from fear and yelling about how brave and cool HIS human is!

So he kinda just… stands there, slack-jawed, as MC finds a spot on the creature that makes it thump its leg so hard the ground shakes.

Already he’s cooking up ways to use MC’s Cerberus-taming powers to get into all kinds of Shenanigans

Except he quickly learns that while Cerb is much more gentle with MC, it won’t let them distract it from its duties.

Has this resulted in MC semi-unwillingly riding Cerberus as it chases a terrified Mammon throughout the Devildom? Possibly~

Though when MC explains to Mammon how Cerberus used to be their dog, and what had happened to him… He can’t help but feel a touch more sympathetic to the hellhound.

Only a little bit though. It still does try and tear him apart whenever he gets too close, after all.

Leviathan

Levi’s fear metamorphoses into awe much faster than the others’. MC LOOKS SO COOL!! Riding the mighty Cerberus like a steed!

He desperately wishes he had the art skills to capture this iconic moment forever. But alas, a camera will have to do.

It’s a pretty good picture, the comparatively small human sitting on Cerberus’ back like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Levi even has a shot of them accidentally scritching a spot that makes Cerberus breathe fire (like a furry dragon!)

100% gets super emotional when MC tells him how they originally had— and lost— Cerberus as a puppy. It reminds him of his precious Henry 1.0 in some ways…

Begs MC to let him post the photos he took, along with their story as the caption. It’s just too good! It’s exactly like that arc in My Adventurer Boyfriend Keeps Adopting the Monsters He Beats in Combat and Now We’re Running Out of Space to Keep Them!

Like Mammon, Levi also quickly learns that just because he unlocked Cerberus’ tragic backstory, doesn’t mean that the hellhound will treat him any differently.

But sometimes, after a long “walk” with MC, the massive creature will be mostly asleep. And then, his hand shaking, MC will guide Levi to pet Cerberus’ flank. Its tail swishes softly, Levi’s own swaying in response.

Satan

He shakes his head and laughs, torn between relief, awe, shock, and lingering horror for MC’s safety. Of course they can tame even the ferocious Cerberus…

Guess all sorts of angry monsters like MC, huh?

He definitely wants to hear the story of MC owning Cerberus in the past, but first he’s going to drink in the absolutely dumbfounded expression on Lucifer’s face.

Toooootally doesn’t cry upon hearing MC’s story with Cerberus. No way, he’s still a cat person, he swears!

...No one is allowed to comment on Satan’s various burn injuries that occur over the next few weeks.

Not if they don’t want to be left with worse.

Asmodeus

OH SHIT!! Also, ewwwww

Once the fear for MC’s safety subsides, Asmo can appreciate the cuteness and hilarity that is MC with Cerberus. Truly no one is immune to their charms it seems, and their affections know no bounds.

...Is it that same quality that allows MC to continue to care for him and his brothers despite their past actions?

Asmo claims that the smoke from Cerberus’ fire breath is getting into his eyes, prompting him to leave. He has a good long stare-at-a-wall crisis for a bit.

Learning MC and Cerberus’ story only makes him mushier. Their tragedy got a happy ending after all!

As much as he loves MC’s charms, he still insists that they de-drool themself before touching him or any of his things. It stinks like brimstone!

Now if they need any help getting clean… That he can oblige~

Beelzebub

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH part 2

As one of the physically stronger brothers, when Lucifer’s not available it’s Beel’s job to groom Cerberus. He knows how dangerous that mutt is.

But apparently not for MC “Knows No Fear” over there!

As Cerberus continues to remain docile in MC’s presence, Beel starts to appreciate the cuteness of a human and their giant hellhound.

Unabashedly mushy upon hearing MC’s story about Cerberus. The themes of losing a loved one, only to find them much later in a new form… it kinda hits a little close to home for him.

(It’s not a perfect analogy: Beel knows MC isn’t Lilith, but having them as part of her legacy is undeniably cathartic. It’s why he doesn’t share these exact feelings with them, since he knows they’re uncomfortable with being compared to her excessively. Still, he can’t help but note the comparison.)

Naturally, he’s also very happy to have a very useful partner for grooming Cerberus. That living nightmare turns into an overgrown puppy whenever MC’s around. It’s much easier, and much safer, to work with this way.

Plus, it means he gets some quality time with MC! And there’s nothing quite like the fond smiles they share with him during these moments.

Belphegor

He has got to be dreaming. No way is this actually happening— nope, Mammon just stepped on his foot, and that hurt, he’s awake.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Does MC not fear death? Is that it? Did that part of their brain just completely shut down when he killed them?!

Unlike the others, he can’t really shut down his panic. Sure, right now Cerberus is acting all cuddly, but that could change on a dime. That dog only listens to Lucifer, and right now all Lucifer is doing is staring gormlessly at it!!!

He nearly loses his hand trying to pull MC away from the creature (which it naturally did Not appreciate).

“Belphie, wait! It’s okay,” MC reassures him even as smoke blows out of Cerberus’ nostrils.

They explain their history with the hellhound, how they rescued it as a puppy and then lost it to the angry and frightened people of their village.

Belphegor can’t help but recall their expression when he told them about his imprisonment, the outrage there mingling with a much older emotion. Is that why they were so quick to help him?

He’s still wary of Cerberus. He refuses to be fooled by any facades the creature may be putting up.

But one day, MC invites him to one of their “playdates”. Cerberus watches him like a hawk, growling when he first approaches, but MC just shushes and soothes the monster until it allows him closer.

And maybe, after a few tense minutes, the pair begin to relax around each other.

And maybe, Lucifer has a picture of MC and Belphegor curled up in Cerberus’ fur as the three take a mid-afternoon nap.

And maybe, Belphegor lets him keep it.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me cerberus #obey me scenarios #mine #my writing #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mc

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

PAPER-THIN WALLS

a/n: i woke up totally in themood to write just straight up smut... and that's what i did lmao. there's not much plot in it, just a whole lot of fucking, so enjoy!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, oral, the good stuff

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

The Avengers compound was built almost perfectly with its luxurious suits, several entertainment rooms, fully equipped training areas and millions of hidden snack and drink bars all across the building. But the stress this time is on almost.

Bucky was never sure if the walls were originally built to keep less noise than in any other buildings, or if it was just his super hearing that allowed him to catch conversations and noises that weren’t meant for his ears. He would often hear gossiping agents as he walked down the hallways, or Vision and Wanda talk about recipes and TV shows in her room and there was this one time he heard Nat and Bruce have a discussion that was surely not meant to be heard by anyone but the two of them. He is still trying to get rid of the words he heard.

Having a room next to yours, he often sat on his bed, hearing you shuffling around, humming to yourself. As the latest addition to the Avengers, you felt a little out of place at the compound, like you were a stranger to the team even though they never gave you a reason to think so. This feeling of not belonging is what brought you closer to the century old super soldier on the other side of the wall, who despite being free from the claws of Hydra finally, still felt like an outsider in the superhero filled complex. Bucky always thought he was hard to make friends with, but he had to realize that it was all about who he was trying to make friends with. Because with you, it was an instant, like he had known you his whole life, you’ve definitely become one of the closest people to his heart in a very short time.

With this friendship came some undeniable feelings and tension from Bucky’s part. He couldn’t help but fall for you, how couldn’t he? He would have been surprised if it didn’t happen, after spending so much time with you. He found himself craving your presence, to be with you, talk to you and listen to you at the same time. He was a sucker for your lame jokes that he would laugh at even if they weren’t that funny. He loved your enthusiasm whenever you brought a new book and basically told him the whole plot, spoiling the story, but he never minded, because the way you rambled in excitement made up for everything.

And of course, he has been attracted to you since day one. Even when you weren’t that close, he couldn’t deny how much it affected him when he saw you spar with Steve at the gym in just some tight shorts and a sports bra, or when you linger around in the kitchen early in the morning wearing only an oversized shirt and your underwear hidden under the long fabric. It stirred his fantasies that’ve been sleeping for decades and late at night, when he was lying in his bed restless, his vibranium hand firmly curling around his erection, he thought about you. How you’d taste and feel, what it would be like to have your body pressed against his, his name falling from your lips in a whimper as he pleases you all over and over again. Sometimes he felt dirty after an elaborate fantasy, barely able to look into your eyes, but he just couldn’t help it. You had him in the palm of your hand.

What he doesn’t know is that he is not the only one with fantasies and desires. Because on the other side of the wall, you’ve often found yourself craving the mixture of warm and cold touch from flesh and metal hands, toned muscles flexing under your palms, pink lips whispering into your ears as you arch against his body… Bucky has been living in your mind rent free and you’ve been having a hard time containing your desire for the super soldier.

Having sex dreams is not at all a new thing for you. It happens every once in a while, waking from a heated scene only to find yourself alone in the comfort of your room, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to bring yourself back to reality. It was never an inconvenience, but in the past few days it’s been getting worse. You’ve had a wet dream for three days in a row, jolting awake right when you were about to climax, a wave of disappointment washing over your body as you fisted the sheets in your sweaty palms. And the worst part? All of them have been about Bucky.

It’s another sleepless night for Bucky, nothing new. He has tried to chase himself into sleep with everything already, TV, ready, music, even counting sheep, but nothing seems to be working, so he is left with lying in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling, the soft bed sheet throw across his naked upper body, only wearing a pair of boxer briefs, because it’s been hot these past week, but he is not a fan of using the air-condition. The dogtags are lying messily on his naked chest, his vibranium finger playing with the wrinkles of the sheets mindlessly.

His eyes slowly flutter closed, a promise of some rest finally nearing the corner, but right just then, he hears some muffled noise coming from the other side of the wall. His eyes snap open as he sits up, trying to make out what it is, but he catches no words, just… grunts and some shallow panting, as if someone was struggling.

What if you’re sick and something is wrong? You’ve been a little worn off the past days, maybe something was lingering in you.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, he pads his way to the door, his bare feet tapping on the hardwood floor as he walks out of his room, heading to yours, stopping at the door. Pressing his flesh hand to the door he takes a moment to listen to the voices so he can make out what’s happening, but it really feels like you’re in a struggle, but he has no idea why. Knocking lightly on the door he hopes to get an answer, but nothing of sort comes and he stays still, debating whether he should go in or just leave. Right when he is about to retreat he hears you gasping, as if you’re at a short of breath and it pushes him to check in on you.

Opening the door he pops his head inside, the darkness fully taking up the room, your king sized bed in the middle, a few strikes of moonlight sneaking through the curtains that are not entirely drawn.

“Y/N?” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle you, but no answer comes once again, however he can see your figure tossing and turning under the sheets, another gasp slipping through your lips.

He walks closer, stopping at your bedside, seeing how your eyebrows are pulled together tensely, chest heaving as you keep moving around. Bucky feels like an intruder, you’re definitely asleep, probably having a nightmare, but he is not sure if he should be in here. Should he wake you? Or just leave? Would you be mad if you found him here upon waking up? After some hesitation he decides it’s better if he leaves, but right as he turns around, taking just one step towards the door, he finally hears a word from you.

“Bucky,” you whine, his name coming out a little slurred, but still clear to him. “Bucky, please!” you continue, his eyes widening as his head snaps around, eyes returning to you. You’re still asleep, but he notices your hand moving down your chest and then disappearing under the sheets, between your legs. That’s when he realizes that it’s not a nightmare. You’re having a sex dream about him.

Clearly trying to chase your release, your lips part as you moan, the voice instantly making Bucky’s cock twitch while hardening. His hands curl into fists as he is fighting himself whether he should do something or leave, but when his name slips through your lips again, he goes feral. He would be damned if he lets you get stuck in your dream when he can please you in real life.

He finds himself striding back to your bed faster like ever, like an elegant lion, hungry for his prey as one of his knees sink into the mattress between your open legs, keeping his weight up on one arm while the other finds your waist. The shirt you always sleep in has ridden up to just below your breasts, the exposed skin watering Bucky’s mouth as he squeezes your waist gently but firmly enough to wake you from your fever dream.

Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him slack-mouthed, your brain barely able to process the sudden change between the Bucky in your dream and the one holding himself up above you in real life.

“Bucky? I—“ you breathe out, the cloud of confusion on your head making it hard to even form a sentence. He leans down, his face just inches away from yours and even though it’s quite dark, his blue eyes are basically piercing. His dogtags fall to your chest, right above your wildly racing heart and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your ribcage.

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers and without a warning, his lips crash down onto yours.

It’s so hard and passionate, filled with hunger and longing, the air gets knocked right out of your chest as you eagerly kiss him back while he slowly moves himself until he is fully between your legs, his hips coming down to meet yours and you moan when you feel his erection pressing against your already soaking wet core. Your hands find their way up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and he can’t stop himself from growling at your action, grinding himself against your hips, both of you desperate to take it further.

Pushing himself up into a kneeling position, he grabs your panties and tugs them down your bare legs, throwing them across the room before he rids you from your shirt as well, so now you’re lying completely naked in front of his lustful eyes. He could devour you with just his icy blue eyes, he looks glorious, towering above you with his broad, muscular shoulders and toned chest, you’ve never been more desperate for a man before.

Your desire takes action, pushing yourself up your lips meet his chest, kissing the hot skin, your tongue sloppily pressing against him as you make your way up on his body. His vibranium fingers tangle into your hair as he holds the back of your head, pulling you up to kiss you again, both of you in a kneeling position while your hand reaches into his underwear, palming his hard cock, feeling up his size before you push the fabric down and he kicks it off easily, his erection now pressed between the two of you teasing and tempting you, making you buck your hips forward just for the slightest friction.

“Were you dreaming of me, doll? Huh?” he questions, his lips nibbling on your lower lip as he takes it between his teeth and gently tugs on it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hips before they move down to his bare ass, pulling him closer to you, earning a moan from him.

“And what was I doing in your dream?” He kisses down your neck, stopping at a soft spot before he starts sucking and biting on it, marking you as his, something he’s been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you for the first time. Your brain almost shuts down, one of his hands is on your jaw, keeping your head in place, while the other one is gripping your waist harshly, his fingers digging into your muscles. You fail to answer his question as just a whimper leaves your lips at the sensation.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me, will you?”

“I, uhh—You used your f-fingers,” you croak out, a satisfied grin tugging on Bucky’s lips at your words.

He pushes you back on the bed, making you lie on your back as he gets on top of you once again, but this time he doesn’t stay like that long, after a hard kiss he climbs down until his face aligns with your core, his hands parting your legs widely, baring you to him fully.

“Tell me, where did I use my fingers?” he hums, face so close to your center that you can feel his hot breath on you. He teases you, running his hands up and down your spread thighs, his fingers just grazing your folds before moving away every time.

“Bucky, please!” you cry out, grinding your hips up, but you only reach his chin before he leans back with a pleased grin on his face.

“Just tell me and I’ll do it. Where did I use my fingers?” he repeats.

“On my pussy! You fingered me!” you groan, your cheeks heating up from the blunt comment you just made, but it’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Two of his fingers find your clit easily, starting off with slowly drawing circles on it, stimulating your nerves and it’s nothing like in your dream. You curse under your breath when his fingers move to your hole and he pushes both of them inside, his lips taking their place on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” you groan in pleasure, your hands immediately snapping to his head, fingers lacing into his chocolate locks as you shamelessly grind against his face.

Bucky is not a man of many words, but god damn, he can use his mouth like a fucking master. It feels like your whole body is on fire, you’re sweating and shaking, his fingers curl inside you every time he thrusts into you and he is stroking that one heavenly spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. His tongue is slick and sloppy against your wet pussy, but he is drinking it all up as if you were his last meal before death.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum! Bucky!” you gasp as your back arches at the sensation, your orgasm building up rapidly.

“Cum on my tongue and fingers, let me make your dream come true,” he growls against your heat, picking up the pace of his fingers which completely throws you over the edge.

You come with chanting his name over and over again as you ride your high, thighs shaking and tightening on either side of his head until you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Bucky pushes himself up, his lips glistening from your juices and you watch him wipe his mouth with his fingers, licking them afterwards like he just finished eating a chocolate cake, a satisfied grin on his ridiculously handsome face. He crawls up on you until his lips can finally reach yours again, kissing you in a slower pace, but still with a lot of passion to offer.

“Tonight wasn’t my first sex dream about you,” you slyly admit, lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm, so there’s more to act out.” His still hard cock twitches again and you’re fast to reach down and palm him again, wrapping a hand around him as you give his cock a few lazy stokes, but it surely has an effect on him.

You’re quick to turn him over, pushing him to lie on his back as you straddle him, steading yourself with holding onto his waist, his eyes bore into yours intently and your mouth hangs open when you grind against him, his hard cock sliding between your wet folds.

“The other day, I dreamed about riding you, your cock filled me up so good, but right when I was about to cum I woke up,” you tell him, not sure how this sudden confidence came from, but you just can’t help yourself. Bucky growls at your words as his fingers dig into your thighs.

“Then let’s make up for that, love,” he breathes out and you nod eagerly, lifting yourself up just enough to position him to your hole and then you sink down as far as you can, his dick filling you up inch by inch and your breath hitches when you finally settle, his length fully buried inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” you whine before you start moving yourself up and down his cock, grinding back and forth, the feeling of him inside you so intoxicating, you think for a moment that this might still be your dream. If it is, you hope you don’t wake up this time.

Though your training has strengthened your legs so you are able to ride him in this position longer, it still tires you out. Bucky notices when your movements slow down, his hands running up your torso, kneading your breasts before they end up on the back of your neck, pulling you down so you lie on top of him, his strong arms wrapping around you. His lips kiss the side of your head before he starts thrusting up into you, doing the work for you this time. You can’t stop yourself from moaning and whimpering as your second orgasm is starting to build up, your senses are on the edge.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” he gasps, his thrusts becoming a little uncoordinated and you feel the same way, only moments away from your climax.

You push yourself up, pulling him with you, wanting to take back control before you both reach your relief, you get into a sitting position that allows you to grind in his lap, moving your hips back and forth as fast as you can. Bucky’s lips find yours again, kissing your sloppily before they travel down your neck and he licks at your collarbone as you hold onto his broad shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good, oh God!” he whines, his head falling backwards as you keep moving, both of you sweating, but neither of you really cares, you’re just relentlessly chasing your high again.

“I want to feel you cum. Please, Bucky!” you beg him, squeezing your walls around him, the action completely maddening the man as he holds you to his chest and flips you over with ease, his body weighing down on you as he starts fucking into you fast and hard. You could throw a fuss about how he took control again, but you don’t mind it, not at all. Because the way he pounds into you, his cock disappearing to the last inch inside you with each thrust, your whole body starts shaking as your orgasm finally reaches you.

Your squeeze your walls again around him and the moment he hears his name fall from your trembling lips he cums inside of you, filling you up entirely, marking you with his pleasure.

He rides his high with a few more sloppy thrusts until he stops, his forehead falling against yours as you both try to catch your breath. He captures your lips in a soft and slow kiss, so different from the ones you shared before. Then he finally rolls off of you and you let out a displeased grunt when you feel him slide out of you.

For a while it’s just the silence in the room mixed with your soft panting, but he is the first one to break it as his head rolls to the side, looking at you with those fucked-out eyes of his.

“How long have you been having these dreams?” he asks, turning to his side so his hand can spread out on your naked stomach, fingers drawing tiny circles on your sweaty skin.

“A while,” you admit.

“I wish I heard you earlier through the wall,” he chuckles, but your eyes widen.

“Wait, what? You heard me through the wall?”

“Yeah. Thought something was wrong so I came over to check on you.”

“God, I must have been really loud,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands, but he is quick to peel them off and leaning closer he kisses your lips gently.

“Don’t blame yourself, these walls are like paper. And besides…” A sly smirk tugs on his lips as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb running along the line of your bottom lip. “I fucking love it when you’re loud.”

“I wasn’t even screaming yet,” you tease back, your comment definitely catching him off-guard, but he likes it.

“We’ll get there next time.”

You and Bucky walk into the kitchen in the morning, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, still in the bliss of last night. Nat, Tony and Steve are sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on their morning coffee when you emerge from your room, all eyes immediately glued to the pair of you.

“Well, good morning, everyone,” you chuckle a little nervously, not sure what the stares mean.

“Morning,” Nat smirks, shaking her head before she turns back to the newspaper unfolded in front of her.

“Nice of you to make an appearance, I have some news to share with you all,” Tony announces as you pour some coffee for yourself while Bucky grabs everything he needs to make breakfast for the two of you. Nodding you signal to Tony that you’re listening. “I decided to do some remodeling on the compound.”

“Oh, what are you getting done?” you ask, wondering what could possibly need work on the building.

“Nothing major, I’m just gonna make the walls soundproof, so we don’t have to listen to you guys fucking all night long.”

You almost choke on your coffee at Tony’s blunt comment, cheeks heating up right away, you were not expecting that. Though he is looking at you and Bucky, who is now standing behind you with a hand on your waist, with a stern expression, you can see the small smile hiding in his eyes. He finds the situation rather amusing instead of annoying.

“Yeah, next time maybe keep it down a little,” Steve suggests as he stands from his seat, grabbing his mug. Walking past the two of you, he pats Bucky’s shoulder however. “But I’m glad you guys are finally getting it on,” he comments before walking out, Nat and Tony following him right after, leaving just you and Bucky in the kitchen.

You glance up at him with concern in your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, but he doesn’t seem to be ashamed at all. Instead, he leans down, pecks your lips shortly and then whispers:

“I told you. Paper-thin walls.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you

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