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senorabond · 22 days

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Rumor Has It: Chapter 9 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader; Javier Peña x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 9 Summary: Flashback: All rules go out the window the first time you and Marcus are truly alone.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, flashback, workplace romance, oral sex (m receiving), Marcus being the softest saddest boy, bearded!Marcus, ‘good girl’ origin story

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

Author’s Note: I wrote most of this at the same time I was writing chapter 8; I just couldn’t get this image out of my head of sad-boi!Marcus, watching his classic films, eating his pint of Ben & Jerry’s… I decided to break up this flashback as well because there is so much I want to do with bearded Marcus and the word count was getting untenable.

Thank you to my darling, my lovely beta, Kilamonster! I’m forever grateful for your unceasing encouragement and feedback. Besitos para ti 💋💜

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

One Year EarlierWashington, D.C.

Pike had been acting weird ever since he went on that work trip to give a deposition. At first you thought he was just grumpy from being jet lagged, or perhaps the deposition hadn’t gone well. His office door was closed most of the time, which was very unusual for him.

The poor man looked like somebody had run over his dog. You’d never seen him look so haggard in all the months you’d been detailed to his unit. His shoulders drooped, his shirts were wrinkled, and his usually well-groomed appearance turned a bit unkempt. You had to admit the beard he’d been growing for awhile had a rakish charm about it. He’d let his hair grow out, and the forelock that fell over his forehead was simply dreamy and emphasized his large, coffee colored eyes. Apparently the sad boy look did it for you.

You saw a few members of his team try various things to engage with him, inviting him to happy hours and trivia nights, bringing him coffee and pastries each morning. He was always grateful, insisted on paying for the food and drinks, but declined all invitations. Whispers were starting to circulate about various reasons for the change in Pike’s demeanor.

You hate rumors. Which is how you find yourself sitting in your car on a Friday night, fully intending to go to the gym, but thinking about Pike instead. This had gone on long enough. Either he needed to be snapped out of it, or needed a friend to talk to about whatever he’s going through.

Instead of driving to the gym, you stop by the store to pick up a six-pack of beer you’ve seen Pike drink at happy hours, and go to his place. He’s hosted team hangouts there, always making sure to include you. The case you’re on now occasionally results in late nights with a few of the team ordering massive amounts of takeout and working late into the night, camped out in various locations around his living room. You’re always the first to nab the cozy throw blanket off the back of the couch and hunker down into the plush cushions.

Tonight is different. You’ve only been alone with Pike a few times, never for long, and never at his place. Those few times you have been alone were always work related or out at a social function for as long as it took for someone to get back with the next round. By the time you begin to second guess your decision to go over, you’re already in his neighborhood and turning down his street.

You think to yourself that it’s still not too late to turn back. Then Pike’s face from that afternoon comes to mind – those big, brown eyes of his that are usually so full of passion and intelligence had dulled the last few weeks. With your mind made up, you park in front of his townhouse and grab the six-pack from your passenger seat.

A few steps from the front door, you pause when it occurs to you that the windows are darkened. His car is there, but the only light you can see is coming from the fan-shaped window at the top of his door. He might be out, or sleeping – you check your watch – at seven o’clock on a Friday night. Or, he might have somebody over, and having a young-ish female agent from work showing up would just be an awkward mood killer.

You hesitate, then take a step forward, thinking you’ll leave the beer for him and send a text. Shaking your head, you realize that’d just be creepy, and turn around to go back to your car. Just then, you hear his front door open and whirl around to see Pike standing there in a white undershirt and joggers.

“Hey –”

“Hey!” You cut him off, a little too loudly and flinch. “Hey, sorry, um…” You’re not quite sure what to say at this point, it all sounds too dumb. He doesn’t look angry, just a bit bemused by your presence. Thankfully, Marcus ends the awkward silence first.

“Do you want to come in?” Stepping back, Marcus opens the door a bit wider and you can see that he’s barefoot. You’re not sure why you find that endearing.

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside, noticing that most of the interior lights are off except for a couple at the back of the house. There’s faint noise coming from the TV in the living room. Not sure what else to do, you stand there and awkwardly hold up the six-pack.

“I brought beer.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Marcus politely takes the beer and shuts the door. As he walks back to the kitchen, he asks over his shoulder, “Did I miss a group text about a hangout?”

“No, I just…” Sighing, you hover at the threshold of his kitchen, where he’s opening two of the beer bottles. You decide to lean into the awkwardness and just go for it. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. Why do you ask?” Marcus answers far too quickly and casually, so you push.

“You’ve seemed…off lately.” Accepting a beer, you take a swig to steady your nerves. The words all come out in a rush. “Ever since you went to give that deposition. You just haven’t seemed yourself.”

Marcus watches you silently. You shrug, and admit, “I guess I was kind of worried.”

You pause, your stomach in knots, sure now that you’ve just been imagining things, and that you’ve overstepped the limits of your professional relationship. Marcus takes a deep breath and places both hands on the island counter, leaning with his arms straight. He fixes you with an unreadable expression.

“Did the others put you up to this?”

“No!” You assure him, stepping forward and putting your beer bottle on the counter. “Nobody put me up to this. Nobody even knows I’m here.”

Wanting him to believe you, you place a hand on his upper arm, feeling the well developed muscles flex under your touch.

“Really, Marcus. You can talk to me. What’s going on?”

Marcus sniffs, then takes a long pull from his beer.

“Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Casablanca plays quietly in the background, and the two of you are settled back on the couch, washing down pizza with more beer.

Turns out Marcus hadn’t expected to see you standing there when he opened his front door. He’d gotten an alert from his doorbell camera and figured it was the pizza delivery guy. You laugh together when he shows you the video captured of your exchange.

“So, wait – you were just sitting here in the dark, watching a classic romance, in your pajamas? Where’s the pint of Ben and Jerry’s?” You’re both laughing at your lighthearted ribbing. You swear Marcus blushes a bit, but the beard and dim lighting makes it hard to tell.

“In the freezer…” You laugh even harder at this revelation. “What? I was saving it for after the pizza!”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Pike?” You give him a playful push with your foot. “Go get it!”

Marcus’ smile looks almost back to normal as he gets up and pads off to the kitchen, returning with a pint of Chunky Monkey and two spoons.

“So,” you start, swallowing your first bite. “Who is she? Or he – I don’t want to assume, of course.”

“Who says there’s anyone at all?” Marcus demures, taking a large spoonful for himself. You sit facing each other on the couch, hunched over the shared ice cream.

“Seriously? The movie, the comfort food, the sweats – it’s Breakup Recovery 101, and you could teach the course.” He chuckles as you knock his spoon away with your own to go after a large piece of walnut.

“I know it’s cliche, but...”

“But it helps,” you finish for him, and he nods. Selflessly, you let him take the chunk of chocolate you were gunning for. The ice cream is starting to make you feel cold and you look around the room.

“What?” Marcus asks, turning his spoon over to lick it clean.

“Where’s the blanket that’s normally here?” You pat its usual spot on the back of the couch.

“Oh, hang on, I’ll get it.” While you dig around for another piece of chocolate, he disappears upstairs. A minute later he’s back with the cozy throw. “Sorry, I usually put it out if I know you’re coming over.”

Marcus spreads the blanket over both your laps while you hold the ice cream out of the way.

“You don’t normally keep it out here?” Marcus shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t usually need a blanket. But you got cold the first time you came over – for the Superbowl party, I think? I went out and got one so you’d be more comfortable the next time.”

You stare at Marcus, blinking, as he picks through for the good bits. This man, who barely knew you the first time you came over, went out and bought a blanket to keep at his house on the off chance you got cold here again. You don’t even remember saying you were cold at the party, you’d just put on your jacket until the house warmed up a bit. You’re not sure what to make of the feelings stirring inside your chest.

“Thanks, Marcus. That was really thoughtful.” He shrugs in reply.

“I like my friends to be comfortable.” And that’s when you remember Marcus sees you as a friend, and you see him as one too. You swallow around a lump and clear your throat.

“I didn’t even know you’d been seeing anyone. Will you tell me what happened?”

After a deep breath, Marcus tells you everything – about his last assignment, the woman he’d briefly been engaged to when he came to D.C., and the man she stayed behind for. He tells you about seeing both of them when he went to give the deposition. And in return, you tell him what a badass he was for laying it all out for that asshole.

“Well, I don’t know about ‘badass.’ This is so embarrassing, but I actually said I’d grown the beard out for,” he raises his fingers in air quotes, “‘an undercover thing.’”

You try not to laugh, but fail miserably. “Aw, that’s not so bad.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

“No, really! Once after a bad breakup I dyed my hair blue and sent my ex a glitter bomb.” Marcus laughs and tugs playfully at a lock of your hair.

“I bet you looked cute as hell with blue hair.”

“Trust me, I didn’t look nearly as cute with blue hair as you do with a beard.” You reach up and stroke the side of his scruff. The shared laughter fades, and you’re left just looking at each other, taking one another in.

The words bubble up in your chest and flow out, “She was so stupid, Marcus. I bet she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Marcus smiles ruefully and ducks his head, and you leave your spoon in the carton so you can take his face in both of your hands. His cheeks are soft and warm under your touch.

“I’m serious. You’re an amazing agent, an incredible friend, and an even better human being. I mean it when I say it’s her loss.”

Marcus’ eyes go soft and he swallows. You realize you’re still holding his face and begin to retreat, but he holds one of your hands in place, his fingers cold from the forgotten ice cream in his lap. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and turns his face to kiss your palm.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Your chest is tight from holding back the urge to do – what, you’re not exactly sure. Anything, whatever it takes to bring that smile back to his face and erase the sadness from his eyes. Leaning in, you brush a gentle kiss across his cheek, then another.

And then his lips are on yours, warm and soft, slightly sticky from the ice cream. Marcus is moving, setting the half-melted ice cream on the coffee table and letting your spoons clatter, his lips never leaving yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you can smell the sweetness of the dessert on his beard. When he deepens the kiss, you sigh into his mouth, enjoying how his tongue tastes and feels against yours.

The scratch of the stubble doesn’t hurt, but the hairs on his upper lip tickle at your nose when you suck gently on his bottom lip. He moans, which seems to surprise him, and he pulls away, breathless.

You try to follow but he holds your upper arms while saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have – so many reasons…”

You can see he’s overthinking everything, so you put it plainly.

“I want this, and I want you. Is that how you feel too?”

Marcus says emphatically, “God, yes. But–”

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” You press your forehead to his and stroke his cheek. Placing light kisses to the corner of his mouth, then the apple of his cheek, the scruff on his jaw, you add a soft, “Please.”

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose, and his hands flex, tightening their grip on your arms for a second. You lay a kiss at the corner of his eye, the place that crinkles so sweetly when he smiles. Turning his face into yours, he nudges your cheek with the gentle slope of his nose. His arms encircle you, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.

“Let me help you forget.”

Smoothing your hands over his chest, you try to slow your breathing. Being in Marcus’ arms, practically in his lap, is making you feel desperate. You’d do anything to make him feel better, anything to make him feel cherished.

“Just for tonight?” A hint of pleading enters your voice. Slowly, you pull your feet under you, kneeling on the couch. Marcus swallows thickly, and when he finally speaks, his words come out hoarse.

“Say it again.”

Not quite sure what he means, you pause for a moment, pulling back to bring him into focus. His pupils are blown, his soft lips parted. Marcus looks as wrecked as you feel.

“Say ‘please’ again.” The words send tingles straight between your legs.

“Please, Marcus.”

It comes out in a whisper, immediately followed by his mouth on yours. His broad chest feels hot under your hands where you grasp the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

He slips his large hands under the hem of your sweatshirt, then molds them to your ass. Putting your arms around the back of his neck, he lifts and helps you clamber over until you're straddling his lap.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he pants between your lips.

Marcus leaves a scorching trail of kisses and licks down your neck until you gasp and grab a fistful of his soft hair to hold him to the spot that makes you dizzy. Feeling the evidence of his growing arousal, you roll your hips to press against him, sighing from the relief the friction gives you. Marcus lets out a soft grunt and pulls you into him again, this time lifting his hips up to meet yours.

Unzipping the loose hoodie you’d intended for the gym, Marcus helps you free your arms from the fitted cuffs and tosses it somewhere on the floor behind you. You’re only wearing a lightweight tank top over your sports bra, and, in the back of your mind, you’re happy you happen to be wearing the nice one that actually makes your tits look good.

Deciding to show them off, you strip the tank top over your head and toss it to the side of the couch you’d been sitting on. Marcus lets out a breath and pauses to admire your body, running his hands up and down your exposed midriff. As his hands caress your breasts, your nipples harden against the soft fabric of your bra, and he swipes a thumb over one causing you to shiver.

Reaching down, you tug the hem of Marcus’ white undershirt up and he leans forward, allowing you to pull it all the way off. You knew his arms were nice, but his chest and shoulders would have made your knees weak if you were standing. His golden skin is dappled with a light sprinkling of freckles down the column of his neck. You lean over to kiss at the base of his throat, feeling it vibrate when he hums, then lick and suck your way across his neck and shoulder.

“Your mouth feels good,” Marcus intones huskily.

Smiling, you nip gently at his earlobe before whispering, “It’ll feel even better on your cock.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You want to suck my cock?”

In answer, you reach between your bodies and palm his dick through his soft jogging pants, then give it a small stroke. He grunts, then turns his head, capturing your lips in another heated kiss.

When you moan, he deepens the kiss and drags his hot tongue against yours. He tastes so good, you’re reluctant to stop, but the size and heft of him through his pants is too tempting to resist. Sliding a finger into his waistband, you give it a playful tug and feel him smile against your mouth. You slip your hand inside and wrap your fingers around his sizable cock.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, and he huffs a small laugh that gets drawn out into a moan when you grasp him firmly in your fist.

“I'm flattered,” he says lightly, but as you give him a tentative stroke his brow creases and he lets out a soft gasp.

“Trust me, it's not just flattery.” His breath hitches when you stroke him again and he kisses your bare shoulder. You reach down with your other hand and pull his cock free of his pants to give you more freedom of movement.

Glancing down between your bodies, you're disappointed that you can't make out much in the darkness of the living room. Setting a slow, easy pace, Marcus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder, grabbing a fistful of each ass cheek in his hands.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice comes out low and intimate, almost a whisper.

Nodding, he makes small movements with his hips to thrust up into your hand.

“Do you want more? Do you want my mouth?”

He lets out a guttural moan and nods more empathically, pulling back to kiss you again. Breaking the kiss gently, you slide down between his splayed thighs and kneel before him, the plush rug comfortable under your knees. In this new position, you're more acutely aware of how wet you've been getting.

You can see the top half of his cock trapped between his stomach and waistband, and eagerly reach for him.

“Take this off first,” he instructs softly, toying with the strap of your sports bra with a quirk to his lips.

Smiling, you obey and pull off the tight garment, watching his face to see his reaction. In the dimness of the living room, the light cast from the TV flickers silently across his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and cups your face in his hand. He drags the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, unconsciously flicking his tongue out to wet his own. You decide you like seeing him from this angle, awaiting his next word or move, basking in his praise.

You grasp at the elastic waistband and Marcus lifts his hips. As his cock is freed, he watches you intensely under heavy lids. Pulling his jogging pants all the way down to his ankles, you let him adjust and get comfortable while you stroke his thighs.

Your mouth waters, impatient to feel the swollen head of his cock slipping past your lips. Grasping the solid weight of him in your fist, you pull up from the base, delighted to see a drop of precum pearl at the tip. Before it can spill over, you lean in and lick the salty substance away.

“Fuck,” Marcus’ hips spasm involuntarily, the head of his cock bumping into your mouth. “Shit, sorry.”

Ignoring his apology, you engulf him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around the ridge, then flick it at the sensitive spot just underneath. Keeping one hand at the base, you gather spit in your mouth and let it drip over the cut head, stroking him a few times to make it nice and slick.

“Jesus,” he whispers, watching you create a seal between your mouth and hand, stroking the length that won’t fit in your mouth. His moans and sighs fill your ears, hands roaming your shoulders and neck, cradling your head, pulling back your hair. He’s holding back, though. Thighs and abs rigid, arms tense, he isn’t giving himself over to the pleasure.

“I want you to use my mouth,” you tell him, then take him back in your mouth. You take one of his hands and place it at the back of your head, giving yourself a push to indicate that he can pull you down if he wants. Marcus groans and gives an experimental push, but stays tense.

Pulling off him again, you stroke the head to keep him stimulated. “Please, Marcus – fuck my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck…” Marcus slowly begins to relax, allowing his hips to buck up and meet your mouth as he gently pulls your face down. “Your mouth, it feels so good, you’re so good.”

He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch. His large hands palm each side of your face and you take him in, all the way to the back of your throat, letting him feel the vibrations of your moans.

“Ah, hnh, fuck…” Every bob of your head and thrust of his hips elicits a grunt or noise in the back of his throat. You’re sure you must be soaking wet now, and you’re tempted to touch yourself while you suck him off.

“Just like that…fuck – so fucking good, baby. Take my cock – ah, yeah…”

The sounds he's making have you moaning and whimpering around his cock, eyes closed, drool coating your mouth and chin.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up– ugh, god.”

Clenching your thighs, your hips move involuntarily, trying to get some stimulation to your throbbing clit. You need some relief, and press the heel of your palm to your mound, grinding into it in time with every thrust of Marcus’ cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself while you suck me off? Does it turn you on that much, taking me deep, feeling me fuck your mouth?”

You answer an mhmm around his cock and look up at him. From the pale light of the TV screen you can see the sheen of perspiration on his chest and forehead, his mouth open, that plump bottom lip quivering slightly.

He meets your eye as he fucks into your mouth. “Shit, that’s so good, baby, don’t stop – your fucking mouth – ah, god, yeah, keep playing with yourself, good girl.”

Good girl.

Your clit throbs and you let out an involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Nobody has ever called you a ‘good girl’ before, but Marcus’ ceaseless praise activates a part of your brain you didn't know existed.

You need to make Marcus feel good, and you feel driven to perform well enough to earn that ‘good girl’ from him again. You want to taste and swallow his cum as your reward.

Eyes closed again, you press down and relax your jaw, suppressing your gag reflex around the softer glans as you grip the rock hard base of his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel your throat, baby. You still touching yourself?”

You manage to whimper another mhm and nod slightly before he's hitting the back of your throat again. Your pussy is on fire, already clenching around nothing, desperate to take Marcus’ cock.

“Unh, yeah, don’t stop, I love how turned on you are by this. I can’t wait to taste you too – do you want that? You want my mouth too?”

Moaning your assent, you caress a hand over whatever planes of his body you can reach without breaking rhythm, feeling the muscles in his abs and thighs quiver as he thrusts steadily.

“Oohh fuck, yeah – you're taking me so deep, that’s it, that’s … that’s a good girl.”

There it is again, those two words: good girl. A keening sound comes from your throat in response. Head swimming, you'd swear you're drunk off his cock and his words.

Marcus’ voice is getting more strained, wavering from guttural to breathy. His cock swells in your mouth and your eyes water slightly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re getting me so close. Do you want my cum?”

Whimpering, you use both hands to grasp onto his hips, keeping up the pace with your mouth as his hips stutter.

"I’m so close, where do you want it?” His words are rushed and tense, but you never break your stride, moaning around his cock and making your answer obvious.

“Shit. Here it comes – I’m cu–” Marcus doesn’t get a chance to finish his warning before his cock is pulsing and shooting his cum onto the back of your tongue. Letting out a hoarse cry, he grips reflexively to your face and hair as his orgasm rips through him.

“Ah, ahh, yes, take my cum – so good, so fucking good for me…”

As the last shudders ripple through his muscles, he sighs and strokes your face tenderly while you happily milk the last drops of his cum into your mouth. You can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride in making Marcus feel so good.

Before either of you can catch your breath, Marcus leans over and captures your mouth in a deep kiss. You both moan as his tongue explores your mouth, tasting himself in every corner.

“That was incredible,” he sighs between kisses. “You’re incredible.”

Marcus kisses up your jaw to your ear and whispers, “I want to make you feel just as good…” He drags the tip of his tongue from earlobe to pulsepoint, then makes you lose nearly all your senses as he sucks and nibbles on the sensitive spot.

Still on your knees, Marcus’ assault on your neck has you arched back until you feel the press of the coffee table behind you. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but you are positioned awkwardly enough that you cling to Marcus for stability, the muscles in his back broad and firm under your hands.

“Bedroom.” It’s the only word you manage to gasp out.

“Upstairs.” His reply would sound casual if not for the heat in his voice.

“Show me.”

Marcus stands, helping you regain your balance on your feet. He kisses your lips again, then pulls back with a sly grin on his face.

“Say, ‘please.’”

Chapter 10 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

No-Pressure Taglist - I just like making friends!: @kilamonster @half-moon16 @for-a-longlongtime @pedroswife69 @pedroshotwifey @angiewatson @morallyinept @peepawispunk @i-wanna-be-your-muse @marysucks-blog @guelyury @connectioneverywhere @sunshinehaze1 @drewharrisonwriter @venturawriter @survivingandenduring @thetriumphantpanda @umniamusic @itsbrandy @eyeswidecovered @myntyuu @cajuncayenne @kirsteng42 @tupelomiss @jensensational71 @mellymbee @urmomsgnocchi @your-slutty-gf @sinpathyforthedevilish @searchedhighandlo @lizzie-cakes @tkingbacksydney @littlemisspascal @din-jarhead @read-and-wip @thegirlwiththecircus @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @penvisions @lotusbxtch @devineconjuring @ezrasbirdie @perotovar @ilovejavierpena @ozarkthedog @swiftispunk @agentjackdaniels-blog @janaispunk

#rumor has it fic #senorabond writes #rumor has it marcus #saddest boi marcus #lets make him feel better #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #javi x reader x pike #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

hi!! could I request a Jake x male reader 8th!member fic where Jake is caught staring at the reader? the whole puppy love kinda thing and he snaps out of it when the reader hugs him.

brunette jake my beloved <333

pairing: jake x male!8th member! reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 800

includes: blushy jake, based on the enha puppy interview, mild teasing from the enha members, reader doesn't hug him but jake does stare, not super romantic i'm sorry

a/n: thank you for requesting !! the puppy love idea is so cute, i love it sm <33 i hope you like it :))

requests open !! read my rules first

you find your place on the floor in between jake and jungwon, facing the cameras in front of the stark white set. jake gently squeezes your hand as a staff member steps forwards to readjust the camera before a nod signals the beginning of the interview.

“hello, we are-” jungwon begins.

“enhypen!”

“hello, i’m niki,” he begins as you start introducing yourselves down the chain. jay goes next, followed by jungwon, and then you.

“hi everyone,” you wave. “i’m y/n.”

jake smiles at you before waving to the cameras himself. “hi, i’m jake.” he’s followed by heeseung, sunghoon, and sunoo before he takes the lead once again. “and we’re here with buzzfeed to answer some questions while playing with puppies.”

you join the others in a short applause before a staff member leaves to retrieve the puppies. niki and jungwon drum their hands against the floor as you patiently await their arrival, excited to play with the small dogs.

“wow, so cute,” heeseung mumbles as a staff member reaches out to hand you a few toys to entice them closer. a curious puppy sniffs at sunoo’s knee before moving over to smell sunghoon. niki shakes a donut plush toy at another one as two more cautiously approach him and jungwon.

you hold your hand out as a small black dog approaches you. it sniffs your hand for a few seconds, giving you the opportunity to reach out and gently pet it’s back. jake follows you as he pats the dog’s head, chuckling when it’s tail starts wagging faster.

what is your personal favourite song from your discography?

your smile grows as the puppies begin jumping around and playing together. your attention strays from sunoo’s answer to the dogs in front of you until jake silently reminds you to answer with a small nudge against your knee.

“are you here for an interview or to play with the dogs?” niki teases.

“i’m paying attention,” you defend. “but i’m also playing with the puppies in front of me!”

“he’s here to play with the dogs,” jake chuckles. you bite back a small smile as you finally answer the question.

a small black dog with patches of light brown on it’s paws and ears walks over to you, sniffing your knee before gently weaseling it’s way into your lap. it curls up against your thighs as it makes itself comfortable in your hold. jake smiles, attention suddenly fully on you and the small pup laying against you. he reaches over, lightly brushing a hand against it’s back.

“ah, i’m jealous,” sunoo sighs.

“i guess y/n has that effect on people,” jay chuckles.

when you first started living together, what surprised you the most?

“jake is really affectionate with me,” you say. “i wasn’t expecting him to be so clingy after training with him during i-land.”

“jake and y/n are always together,” sunghoon teases.

“it’s like they’re merged together.”

you chuckle at jungwon’s comment as the puppy in your lap rolls to lay on it’s back, stretching out before jumping over into jake’s lap. he smiles, reaching over to hold your hand as he pets the squirming dog in his hold.

if you could talk to your 10-year-old self, what would you say?

“stop messing around,” jungwon chuckles.

“study hard.” jay answers.

“me too, me too,” sunghoon agrees.

jungwon taps his fingers against the floor, a silent ask for one of the dogs to come over to him. you do the same, gently picking up one with spots on it’s legs and coaxing it into his lap. “don’t give up,” you say, momentarily looking up at the camera to answer before turning your attention back to the dog in jungwon’s lap.

when you turn back to face jake you find him staring at you with love-filled eyes and a soft smile. his face flushes in realization that he’s been staring at you in front of so many cameras. you chuckle at his reaction, turning back to the dogs in an attempt to hide how flustered he’s making you.

“jake,” heeseung laughs as he reaches over, gently leaning over to pat his knee and break him out of his trance. “are you gonna answer the question?”

“ah,” he looks down at the dogs once again. “be nice to your parents.” jake finally answers.

“are you even paying attention?” niki laughs.

“a puppy with puppies,” jay teases. you pretend not to notice the way his cheeks immediately light up from a deep blush across his ears and cheeks. jake looks back down at the dog wriggling around in his lap before you reach over to gently pat his thigh - a silent comfort from all of the teasing. he takes your hand into his, squeezing it when you shift a little closer to him.

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insanityofbones · 7 months

Text

@flametrashira asked regarding this prompt

"It's okay, you can be as loud as you want." With Enmu <3.

→ Pairing : Switch!Enmu X Switch!Fem!Reader

→ word count : 400

→ Cw/Tags : Handjob, sub enmu, slight dirty talk, alot of whining, finger sucking

→ Authors note : I promise I'll do a better one that's longer in the near future, I wasn't expecting an ask as soon as i sent it 🤣🤣 but ty flamey~ Enjoy 🥀

MINORS DNI

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

He hadn't moaned since you started, a sigh leaving you. Despite the fact you were pleasing him.

"It's okay, you can be as loud as you want."

Your voice was a taunt to the demon under you, hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it until he began to break. Insolent whines escaping him, that perfect white liquid dripping out of the tip. For someone so powerful he was mush under your hands.

"Pl-Please. . ."

You shook your head no. Two fingers prying at his mouth, sticking them in. "Suck," Like a dog he obeyed. The feeling of his tongue across your skin. Hand furiously running up and down his dick, praying to every god there was that he'd just cum already. Low and behold he finally did, his hips bucking into your hand like an animal in heat. Blue eyes set onto yours, lashes full of salty tears. He let your fingers slip out of his mouth, loud whines of your name on his tongue. Filled with pants, whines, and him finally climaxing completely, a scream.

Pulling your cum covered hand up, you licked your fingers. The sweet taste lingered on your tongue, guess being a demon changes someone in more ways than one. Yet, Enmu seemed to have other plans in mind.

Without even knowing, you were on your back, the needy monster hovering above you. Burgundy-pink hair swifting onto your forehead. You began to protest, before being brought into a steamy kiss. The muscle swishing into your mouth, delicate fingers feeling your body. Making its way down to your heat, his nimble digits making it's way to your clit. You moaned into the kiss as he rubbed small circles, wanting to please you as you did for him.

Eventually pulling away with a string of saliva, the clear substance dripping onto your chest. His other hand greedily felt the plushness of it, giving one of your breasts a tight squeeze. Watching your face to see if you liked it, yet all he found was nothing.

Enmu pouted, "Y/N, do you like it??"

"M-Mhm…"

You could barely think straight when his fingers actually went inside of you, curling in just the right spot. He retracted his fingernails just for this, to make you feel good. Soon your panting turned into loud moans, your earlier statement finally coming into its true play. His words reflected what you had said.

"It's okay Y/N, I like it when you're loud."

Tags : None 🥀

#🥀† insanity™#🥀† Enmu Tamio #🥀† Answering Asks #enmu x reader #demon slayer #kny smut #enmu x y/n #enmu x you #enmu smut #demon slayer smut #enmu

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littlemisslipbalm · 1 year

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You're My Best Friend - Part 2

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shrimp and Jake return. Best friends to fuck buddies to lovers? Perhaps...all because Josh is such a nosy man.

Word Count 1.2 K | Warnings: Language

Enjoy! I'm sorry it's not very long but I wanted to finish this up for y'all

Read Part 1!

Jake had his Third Eye Blind record spinning in the other room, but they could hear it from the other room, through the shut door. But the music wasn’t their focus at the moment, even if they were in the music room.

“Why can’t we fuck in your bed?”

“Because then we don’t have to change the sheets to sleep and we don’t have to worry about the cats cock blocking.”

“But doesn’t that mean your couch will be the dirty thing?” She tilted her head, not seeing Jake’s logic whatsoever.

He huffed and wrapped an arm around her frame, pulling her willingly onto his lap. His lips found the skin just below her neck and whispered gruffly, “Why don’t you just stop worrying your pretty little head and focus on that precious thing between your thighs that I know is just aching for some attention.”

She melted mentally when his plush lips connected to her neck. Her back arched as a physical manifestation of her surrender. Sex with Jake had turned out to be an even more fulfilling pastime than their usual friendship endeavors.

Jake sucked in a breath,“Oh fuck.”

His voice brought her back from her cloudy blissful thoughts of his warm body against hers. “You’re wearing those damn red panties, again. Shrimp, you know how hot I think those are.”

His hands were resting at the top of the lace, fingers flexing against her skin now that he had unbuttoned her shorts.

“I’m starting to think this Wes Anderson binge was just a ploy…” He tsked and stared up at his best friend with an innocent quirk of his brows.

“Those little red panties they pass the test,” She rambles to the vague tune of the song they both knew by heart. “So flip me face down on the mattress….rather the futon, I guess, romeo.”

Jake chortled and Shrimp rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders before leaning over him, connecting their lips and ending further discussion.

Jake stumbled behind Shrimp as they sauntered into the dive bar. Her hands were shaking him off of her as they attempted not to knock into one another and tamp down the grins on their faces.

“Where have you two been?” Josh turns from Sam when he notices them out of the corner of his ever persistent eye.

“Just lost track of time,” Jake shrugs and Shrimp nods and slinks over to the bar to give Danny a side-hug and order herself and Jake drinks.

“Something’s different,” Josh insists, looking between the pair. “I can smell it in my bones.”

He walks towards Shrimp, wafting his hand towards his nose, going so far as to sniff her hair. She cringes away from him and flashes her eyes at Jake for a second, who’s trying to look unbothered by his brother’s prying into his affairs.

“Nothing’s different,” She insists, moving to grab the drinks and sidle away from Josh’s inquisition.

Josh’s pointer finger sweeps out in a quick flick to peer at Shrimp’s neck, revealing a just healing hickey. His nose picked up a whiff of men’s cologne and like a dog with its favorite toy, his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Now how do you have the time to be fucking someone when you spend all your time with brother dearest?”

She rolled her eyes and shoved Josh’s hand away. Jake blew out a breath. Sam and Danny’s eyes were wide in silent understanding.

Josh waited patiently, a smug smile curled onto his lips. “I knew you’d end up dating sooner or later, but I feel like someone should’ve told me…I’ll be the best man after all.”

“We’re not dating!” Shrimp and Jake said all too quickly and uncannily in unison. The pair stared at one another with brief hurt before returning to Josh’s accusation.

“Yeah, right,” Sam laughs over his shoulder, returning to the pool game they had been lazily playing before Jake and Shrimp had disrupted the moment.

“We’re just fucking,” Shrimp waves her hand with a forced nonchalance. “It’s no big.”

Jake nods and has a hefty swig of his go-to beer, she always knew. “It’s just easier, Shrimp never finds anyone to hold her attention long enough that she trusts enough to fuck —”

“And Jake never has time to vet the girls here, you know, to make sure they’re not trying to fuck him cause of the band.” She finished for him. Their eyes are staring at one another with an intensity that would be hard to miss, even in the dingy yellow lights.

Josh shakes his head with a tsk, “Wow.”

Jake fidgets with his jeans belt loops and Shrimp takes a long sip of her IPA.

“It’s just easier this way.”

“For everyone.”

At this point, Jake and Shrimp had be fucking for a month. Ever since he’d admitted that he liked her more than a friend. The pair insisted it was utilitarian even though the band was going to be in Nashville for an extended period of time before their next tour. Jake had enough time to “vet” someone as he liked to say and yet Shrimp was practically living with him. But they were just best friends.

Jake and Shrimp stumbled into Jake’s place a little after 2 am. They’re pawing at each other’s clothes before the front door is locked and Jake is whimpering slightly as Shrimp sucks a searing kiss into his neck as he messes with the keys.

Their kisses are hard, everything unspoken at the bar coming through their lips now. Jake backs her uo against the wall, with one hand leaving her in search of the lightswitch.

“Leave it,” She mumbles against his lips when her body feels too cold without his entire attention.

“You don’t even want to see me?” Jake asks. He phrased it like a joke but all the liquor had made them more honest.

She knows and pulls back, hands coming to rest at Jake’s hip bones to steady him from pressing into her and distracting from the situation.

“Of course I want to see you,” She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I always want to see you. You’re by far the prettiest, hottest, sexiest–whichever adjective you like–best person I’ve been with.”

Jake smiles, despite the lack of artificial light they can see one another. It’s pointy and toothy and goofy but handsome and sexy and she wants to tell him all the ways she adores him because he really was all those things to her. He rests his forehead on hers and she giggles.

“I love you, Shrimp.”

“And I love you.”

“No,” He widens his eyes, inadvertently pushing his hips against her. “I’m in love with you, so fucking badly.”

“Jake,” She sighs, a drunken laugh slips out. “Duh.”

After a particularly long and fun turn around the bedroom, the pair fell asleep peacefully in each other’s arms. The next day brought a serious conversation about their relationship and they made it official. Not just best friends with benefits, but Jake and Shrimp, best friends and partners. It was going to be for the long haul. Every moment filled with love and care and cats.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet x reader #you're my best friend

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space-mermaid-writing · 1 month

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The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]

Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.

Relationship: Werewolf!Tony Stark / Vampire!Stephen Strange

Tags: hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff

Chapter 5: This didn’t go as planned

Every now and then they went on a mission together. It turned out each of them had a special skill set that proved to be useful in some cases. And the company was also nice.

Somehow Stark had managed to crawl into Strange's off-putting shell.

A few days ago, he had contacted the werewolf because several children had disappeared in the same area and he suspected an underground trafficking ring behind it. He had obtained some clothing and toys from those children, which he now handed to Stark in separate plastic bags.

"Can you pick up their trail? There's not enough DNA for a tracking spell."

"So I'm just your better tracking dog?" Tony snorted, without really being offended. "Yeah, sure, it's not like I have more important stuff to do."

Stephen raised his eyebrow. There was a small smirk on his lips. "More important than to possibly save five or more children from a cruel and painful fate?"

Tony was very unhappy about that comeback since it was very valid and he had nothing to counter. So he followed Strange through a portal to the place where one of the children had last been seen.

He took a plush bunny from one of the labeled bags and sniffed it.

Then he checked the surrounding air and concentrated.

When he was younger the many scents used to be overwhelming. But he became pretty good at filtering out what wasn’t of interest at the moment.

A few days ago the lawn had been mowed, and since these past few days had been really hot, the freshly cut grass was on the fast way to become straw. It carried a hint of the typical smell from stables.

Various cats and dogs were living in the area. Tony ignored those scents completely.

A car drove by, diesel engine. The brakes dragged a little and produced a fine abrasion.

Then he noticed something. It was faint, a few days old, and he followed the trail. An Iron Man suit, piloted by Jarvis, was sent to scan the area from there.

Stephen followed him without questioning him.

He knew from experience that if he was dragged out, something crucial would happen. Fortunately, they were in a quieter area of Queens. It was easier to pick out the older lead here than in midtown. And once picked up, he would hardly lose a trail. He didn't even need to shift for it.

Strange walked at his side, eyeing the surroundings. There was still no smell at all of the sorcerer. And that fact was still weird.

Tony was curious how he would smell. Probably something calm with a hint of herbs, like his teas. Something warm and inviting.

The Were shook his head.

He shouldn’t get distracted!

The path led them through a narrow passage between tall buildings. The area became poorer and poorer.

“You’re unusually quiet,” the Were noted after a while.

“I don’t want to distract you from your work.”

“I can track a smell and listen to you at the same time. It’s called multitasking and I’m an expert in it.”

Stephen scoffed. “Alright then. What do you want to talk about?”

Tony led them under a bridge. It smelled like pee. "Oh, nothing in particular. How was your weekend?" He stopped in front of a metal fence and rattled the gate. It was locked. So he tapped his wristwatch, but before he could weld it open, Strange did a swift motion with his fingers and the door magically swung open.

Stephen moved ahead past Tony. “My weekend was fine.”

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered, “Show off,” before he followed him suit. He waited a few more seconds, but Stephen offered nothing more. “Wow, don’t tell me more. I can already picture it as if I’ve been there myself.” His words were dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess: you read an old book, drank some tea and argued with Wong about which of them was on dishwashing duty? Maybe you even washed the cloak.”

The cloak moved as if by wind when it was mentioned. Stephen stopped and turned to the engineer, looking into his eyes. “I went to a dimension that consists purely of energy and gaseous elements. The inhabitants have never seen a solid shape and I had to disguise myself as some kind of smoke. I chased an ill-mannered nebula through some kind of semi-liquid slime and prevented it from passing into our plane of existence.”

Tony blinked. “You’re making that up!” he accused the sorcerer.

There was the hint of a smile on Stephen’s lips. “I also did wash the cloak afterwards.” With that, he started moving again.

Tony followed him, still not sure if he was told the truth or just some nonsense.

Suddenly there was a noise above them. Something approached them through the air, then landed with a gentle ‘thump’.

“Hey Mister Stark, Hello Doctor Strange. I saw the armor nearby and thought you might need some backup with whatever it is you’re doing here.”

The teenager didn’t lift his mask but the men could hear the nervous smile under it.

Tony exchanged a quick glance with Stephen.

The sorcerer shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a rescue mission,” he said lowly.

That was good enough for the Were. "Sure, but do as we say and stay behind us," he told Peter.

"Yes, totally!" He sounded thrilled to be included.

So the three of them continued on their way, and the men explained the situation to Peter in a few words along the way.

Between the three of them, with the help of Tony's suit in the air, it was easy to find the missing children's whereabouts. Either the kidnappers were not very smart, or they felt very safe.

It was a fucking cliché: an unused office building on a street with lots of warehouses, most of which were empty.

The kids seemed to be locked in a barely furnished room next to an empty open-plan office that covered almost the whole floor. All the doors were glass, but most were covered with newspapers. So were the windows, so they had no visual contact.

Tony had called his Iron Man back down and stepped in it to get a better read of the data.

There were five armed guys in the open office space and two more in another adjacent room.

Stephen, Tony, and Peter quickly came up with a plan: Stephen and Tony would take care of the armed guys, while Peter snuck to the kids. Once it was safe, he would get them out.

They had the element of surprise on their side and between the sorcerer’s magic and Iron Man’s blasting beams, they should make enough commotion to create a clear pathway for Peter.

But, somehow, everything went to shit.

Apparently, the guys had been prepared. Maybe they knew that human trafficking was prone to vampire attacks – or they had done business with them in the past and had taken precautions. Their weapons carried silver bullets and they were both good marksmen and skilled fighters.

They caught Peter on his way to the kids and engaged him in a fight as well.

The guys guarded their merchandise well.

One moment Stephen was dealing with two guys at the same time, only relying on his magic, while Peter dodged the swings of his opponent, and Tony engaged the boss of this little gang in a hand to hand fight, repulsor vs knife.

The next moment, Tony was suddenly in a headlock with a gun to his head. He was wearing his helmet, but he had never tested it if it would withstand a close-range shot. Or several of them at the same spot.

"Freeze or I'll shoot his head off!" the guy yelled at Tony's companions.

The Were growled and clawed his opponent's arm, but the grip around his neck did not loosen. He didn't dare to turn because the guy's finger twitched on the trigger.

Stephen and Peter stopped what they were doing – the sorcerer ever calm, but his gaze was dark and he seemed to be calculating his options in his head. He gave a secret signal to the cloak, which was currently not on his back, but was stealthily approaching Tony's attacker from behind.

Peter on the other hand was still a kid and seeing his mentor in this immediate danger made him go pale. "No, Mr. Stark!" He jerked on instinct as if he wanted to leap over to him and rush to help, but forced himself against it.

Still, it was one move to many.

Tony's attacker aimed his gun at the boy instead and pulled the trigger – one, two, three times.

The Were thrashed against his hold. “No!”

But it was too late. Nothing could beat a bullet.

Except maybe a very skilled vampire.

There was a blur. A flash of blue and red. In the same instant Stephen stood in front of Peter and threw his arms around him in protection.

He hissed in pain as the bullets hit his back. They were perfectly aimed, and they burned so badly that they must be spiked with silver. A metal that was bad for Were’s and Vamp’s alike.

These people certainly knew their stuff.

Peter shrieked, first of surprise at the sudden appearance of the sorcerer, then because Stephen’s protection hug grew very heavy as he slumped to his knees.

Tony went feral. He saw his pack threatened and retracted his faceplate to bite his opponent in his arm. Then he turned in his grip, his claws extended as he transformed.

The armor adapted to his four-legged body like the masterpiece of technology that it was. It no longer covered Tony's entire body. In this form, he preferred to keep his face and paws exposed while fighting.

It was easy to overpower the traffickers after that. Growling angrily, he barely cared about how much he hurt the people who dared to attack his pack. As long as one of them survived in case the authorities wanted to pry more information out of them.

One of them tried to crawl with a broken leg towards the door. A ridiculous attempt to escape. The Were grabbed his trouser leg with his jaw and yanked him back. The man gave a startled yelp as he was thrown ruggedly against a cabinet, where he remained motionless on the floor.

Tony looked around for the other two traffickers, but there was nothing more than a pathetic bunch left of them. That hardly calmed the Were down, even if the enemies were all neutralized. The smell of fear, sweat and adrenaline was still in the air and kept him on edge.

He whipped his head around when he heard Peter’s panicked voice. “Mr. Stark!”

The boy kneeled next to Strange, his eyes wide and worried. The sorcerer sat scrambled, his head hanging low. He was heavily breathing – and bleeding. Shit.

Tony rushed over to the two of them and ducked under Peter’s arms right into Strange’s personal space. Something wasn’t right.

Stephen turned away from him, hiding his face.

The Were was too big for this, needed too much space, so Tony shifted back into his human form, still wearing his armor, and laid his hand onto the other man’s shoulder.

“Doc?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen gritted through his teeth.

“Like hell you are!” The anger that hadn’t completely shifted into worry blazed back to life. “You got shot!”

Those bullets were meant for Peter. How the hell did he manage to get over there in time? Tony hadn’t seen his signature glow of magic.

“I just need to return to the Sanctum.” Stephen had trouble talking under the intensified burning in his back. He needed to get the bullets out of his body. The wounds would heal regardless on the outside. But his flesh would be burned alive from the inside. Like a slow and very painful poison.

The Vamp felt his control slipping. Not on his mind but his body. The urge for blood, for regeneration became stronger. His fangs were out and so were probably his claws, which was why he cradled his hands close to his chest.

It made reaching for his sling ring in his belt all the way harder.

Peter hadn’t left his side, the brave boy that he was.

And now Tony appeared right in front of him. Stephen tried to turn away again, to hide somewhere. Anywhere.

But Tony held him by his shoulders.

Why wouldn’t they leave him alone?

“Please,” Stephen tried again, his throat dry. “Just take the children home. I can manage.”

“You must have hit your head pretty hard if you think we would leave you like that.” Tony's voice softened with his next words. “Stephen, look at me.”

The Vamp shook his head, his eyes shut close and his lips tightly pressed together. That was difficult due to his heavy breathing.

He was a vampire. Undead. He didn’t have to breathe at all, but it helped with the pain and besides, it was a force of habit. He had gotten so used to blending in.

Tony's finger gently but forcefully pushed his chin up. “Stephen.” His voice was so very concerned.

The Were was too stubborn to let this one slide.

And Stephen couldn’t fight it anymore.

Finally, he looked at Tony. His eyes wide in anticipation of the man’s reaction. And glowing red. The open mouth allowed the heavy breathing to continue, his fangs now on display.

Tony needed a second to understand the meaning of what he saw. His eyes darted over the sorcerer’s face, down to his hands – still scarred – but also with long claws.

The fact that the man was still alive – ha – minutes after being shot in the back several times.

He let him go as if burned and stumbled back a few steps. His face is a mixture of betrayal, anger and disgust.

It couldn’t be.

He would have known it. He would have smelled it.

But sorcerers didn’t smell of anything.

“Peter,” Tony addressed the boy that was still crouching next to Strange and who watched the whole interaction concerned and confused. “Step away from him. Now!”

There was no room for arguing in the command.

For the split of a second Stephen’s face showed the hurt he felt. Not the pain from the bullets. Then a carefully put together neutral mask slid in the place.

The boy hesitated only a second before he finally obeyed. But it stung as bad as Tony’s change of behavior.

Stephen was still looking at the man, unsure what he would do next.

Tony seemed not sure himself. He raised his hand with the repulsor glove and it made this little noise signaling that it was active and ready to shoot. But he didn’t fire at the vampire.

Their eyes met. Stephen did not avoid his gaze, nor did he not look away. There was acceptance in his eyes – in those red glowing eyes that didn’t blink.

Tony wasn’t sure he had ever seen the guy blinking.

His ears twitched as his fine hearing picked up the sounds of the children that were still sitting frightened next door, still waiting to be rescued. They needed him. Maybe they even needed medical help.

He grabbed Peter - who had stepped next to him - by the arm and pulled him with him, walking backwards to the door. He kept his hand raised and the repulsor activated until they left the room. Only then he turned around and away from the vampire.

Peter looked at him with big eyes. “Mr. Stark…”

“We got a job to do, kiddo.” His voice was stern, cutting off any further objection from the boy.

Tony tried not to think about the fact he left the man he called friend – the man he probably had preferred to call other things too – behind, injured and bleeding.

That man was a Vamp – an enemy. He had lied to Tony, had deceived him.

Had everything been just pretended? An illusion?

Tony’s heart ached at the betrayal he felt.

He should have killed him immediately. But the sorcerer had saved Peter. And even if he hadn’t, Tony wasn’t sure if he could have killed Strange – even if he was a vampire. And that was alarming in a whole different way.

__________________

Tag list: @jekyllhydetrash @goopierthenyou Tell me if you wanna be added/removed

#ironstrange #doctor strange #tony stark #Vampire Stephen Strange #Werewolf Tony Stark #stephen strange #marvel #mcu #strangeiron #The Vamp and the Were #spacemermaid writes

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134340am · 2 years

Note

hello yuna!! ur working on bnha stuff again? how exciting!! hmm, if i had to guess, is ur new drabble about shouto? 🙇🏻‍♀️

u r absolutely right todoroki shouto x gn!reader, 0.5k words warnings: no mention of gender-specific body parts, public sex, mutual loss of virginity, tender touches, nsfw — minors do not interact.

you guessed, long before you even dated him, that shouto would consider his first time with his partner sacred and precious. he’d want a plush bed with silk pillows and rose petals, plenty of prep with more than half of his time spent between their legs, lots of sweet kisses and gentle affirmations…

too bad you don’t have the patience for that, not when your lover is looking like the dictionary definition of dashing in his loose button-up and wind-swept hair. and while the thought of having a bed to crash in after you were done with your anniversary dinner was nice, your sole focus right now is finding somewhere secluded—a dressing room, a toilet cubicle, or even the janitor’s closet—anywhere private enough for you to stick your hand down his pants freely.

shouto’s not happy, of course. he had this elaborate plan in his head of fucking you soft and slow into thousand-thread count sheets while the moon hangs high in the sky. but who is he to say no when you’re clinging to his bicep, all arched up against him with your puppy dog eyes just begging for him to be inside you?

so here you are, pressed up against the cold concrete wall of the restaurant’s fancy washroom, moaning into shouto’s collarbone while he eases inside of you.

“you alright, love?” he asks, one hand pulling your thigh up over his hip while the other rubs soothingly at the small of your back.

“it hurts,” you moan. “you—you’re fucking big. give me some time.”

he blinks. “sorry—“ he blurts out, choking when you squeeze around his cock.

despite everything—the astringent smell of lemon-scented cleaning product, the discomfort of not being able to move inside you, and the muted buzz of the dinner crowd outside, shouto drops your leg gently to embrace you sweetly. with one hand cradling the back of your head and the other rubbing circles into your overheated back, the tender gesture almost has you forgetting he has his cock in you. almost.

“take as long as you need,” he whispers into your hair, then grunts when you spasm around him in response. “i’ll pull out if you want.”

“i-it’s fine, just needa get used to the size.”

“breathe for me, sweetheart.”

you manage a shuddery inhale. your hands slip down shouto’s biceps to grip his forearms. as you try to even out your breathing, you start to feel the steady hum of pleasure stirring in your stomach, which makes you sigh contentedly against shouto’s clammy neck.

“feel good?” your lover asks.

“yeah,” you whisper back. you clench around him again, intentionally this time, and giggle when his hips stutter into yours clumsily. “‘m fine. you can move now, shouto.”

“alright, love.” eyes still glimmering with concern, shouto hikes you further up against the wall before dropping a tender kiss on your cheek. when he pulls back, however, his eyes were clouded over with lust and want. “please stop me if i’m hurting you. but otherwise, stay quiet and let me do my job.”

a/n: screaming bc the last time i wrote for shouto was 14 march... as a self-proclaimed shouto lover i m embarrassed pls don't look at me (masterlist)

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto smut #shouto smut #shoto smut #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #yuna writes #yuna after dark #i love u soph thank u for asking ; ;

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ennoshitas-princess · 1 day

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The Beautiful Rose

Tobio Kageyama x chubby fem! reader Warnings: Oikawa being forceful to be with you, some swearing, centaur Kageyama, violent scene Synopsis: you are the girl everyone wants to be, and you catch the eye of the king of the court Word Count: 1,612 Hopefully you like it!! This has no spoilers really. Fantasy au (inspo beauty and the beast). Don't read if you don't like violence or triggered with gun shots.

You strolled along the dirt path of the village to go to the market in the little town to get things for your mother and brother.

A shade of a pretty pastel cerulean hovered above everyone's head. The emerald blanket soaked with the morning dew. The light magenta petals of the cherry trees fell like snow in the bleak winter months. The rays warming up the ground below, caused cats and dogs to shut their eyelids tight and take a longer nap.

Basket in hand, you continued to admire your surroundings of the vast beauty of nature.

“Bonjour, monsieur.” You wave to the owner of the stand, filling your nostrils with the sweet aroma of baked goods.

“Bonjour, belle demoiselle.” He replied back.

“What do you have to offer today?” You looked at all the items, making you drool.

You could not help yourself. Just a regular habit you had that continued to occur since you were small. The thought of eating one of these delicious delights, had you wanting to buy the whole stand.

“We have bagels, cookies, baguettes, loafs of bread, and cake.” He pointed them out.

“I will take these and the baguettes.” Your hand hovered over the cookies.

“Ah, your sweet tooth demoiselle, non?”

“Oui, monsieur!”

“À plus tard!” You wave to the baker.

“Salut!”

You walk off to bump into none other than the throb of the town, Touru Oikawa.

With a sigh, you shift to your left to continue with your errands, but stopped by him moving to his right to block. You move the other direction, and he does the same thing.

“Hey umm… Oikawa-”

“Please y/n, you know we are meant to be. Call me by my first name.” He pulled you close to his lean body.

“Look Oikawa, I cannot figure out any other way to express this. I do not like you romantically at all.” You bluntly shove him away.

His blood boiled at the remark, not knowing how much you mean to him. If he got with you, everyone in the village would be jealous about your relationship. Making him look greater and grander, even more than Alexander building one of the biggest empires in history in a short amount of time.

“Look y/n, you know how much-”

Before Oikawa could finish his sentence, you left him rambling to himself. In embarrassment, he stormed off, yelling, “well y/n, we all know you hang out with a monster.”

Oikawa, being himself, just let you be.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

Well, Oikawa wasn't wrong about what he said earlier that day. Everyone viewed him as one, but you saw his flaws as beautiful pieces of artwork in a mural in an art museum.

You go over to the forest to visit your friend, Tobio Kageyama. The hut just beneath all the dead trees, just decaying and bald. Flowers on the sidelines wilted from the lack of sunshine. The straw roof had a massive hole. So whenever it rained, poor Kageyama’s house got soaked.

You knock at the almost deteriorated wooden door. Just with your subtle touch, the door fell on the creaking floor with a thud, spooking the horned centaur.

Dashing towards the door, he saw your plump figure at the entrance.

“Oh, it's just you y/n.” He sighed.

“Yes, it's just me, Tobio. Look, I went to the market and got some things for you to eat. I got cookies, bread, some fresh produce, and guess what I brought?” You give him the basket.

“What did you bring for me?” He reached for it, his hand brushing against your soft tiny one.

Pulling the cold item out, he smiled.

“Y/n, you brought milk!” He shouted with joy.

“Of course I did. When you are happy, I am happy.”

The centaur picked you up and spun you around twice, hugging your soft curves. You were a cute plush for him of course. If someone bad happened to you, he would find a way to save or protect you.

You strolled along the river bed calmly, as the birds sang their song peacefully. The flow of the river brought some type of relief from Oikawa’s six hundredth proposal.

As you walk, you spot a rock to rest on. When you sat down, you heard a lot of rustling in the bushes. Frightened, you got up and started to run away.

“Wait, don't run… I didn't mean to scare you. Of course someone as pretty and kind hearted as you would rush back home.” A male voice sounded disappointed.

You inch towards the male slowly, awaiting to be attacked. When you look at the man closer, you see him hiding behind the shrubs.

“Umm… how dumb of me. I should introduce myself. My name is Kageyama, Kageyama Tobio. What is yours?” He still hid.

“Nice to meet you, mine is l/n y/n.” You tell him as you go where he hid.

“That is a pretty name for a pretty lady like you. I mean, well you are just pretty because you are a human- shit!” He snapped.

“Wait, come out of the bushes. I am curious about what you meant about me being a human. Are you one?” You raise a brow.

Clopping towards where you stood, you soon begin to realize he was not a human. He came out being a centaur. The thought of you running away came across poor Kageyama's mind, but surprised that you stayed in place, examining him closely with shining e/c eyes.

“You seem very fascinating! How did you-”Before you could finish that question, he replied with all honesty.

“I was put under a spell because of how I used to treat others in my village when I was king. I ran away and now, no one is ruling my kingdom.” He rubbed the back of his head.

You stare into his ocean eyes for a long time. Just as you were in a trance, he too was in one. Charmed by your squishy body, not knowing what to say or do, he randomly said, “wanna be friends?!?”

You break eye contact, blushing, “yeah!”

You two walked inside of his cottage to snack on the little treats.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

As you finished your snacks, a rustle in the bushes could be heard by Kageyama. He galloped towards the shrubs.

“Bam, bam, bam!”

You heard the gunshots from inside. Rushing out of your seat, you saw Kageyama on the dirt ground, breathing heavily. You turn your head up slowly from the centaur, only to meet up with brown eyes.

“Oikawa! Why would you shoot him?” You ran towards him and wept.

“I only did it for you, y/n. I bet he had you captured and under some mind game of his, only to keep you from me.” He reached for your arm, only for you to shake it off aggressively.

“I don't like you! As a matter of fact, I hate you!” You scowl at him.“I did it all for-”

“I don't care! I want you to leave me alone. I don't want you near me in any way. I am in love with him and you think I will love you after shooting him?” Your voice boomed throughout the forest.

Oikawa's mouth formed a small circle, opened from the news you gave to him. He couldn't believe that you loved a monster like Kageyama, but not love someone as handsome as he is. Scoffing, he turned his tracks to the road to the village, stomping his way back.

“Y-you love m-m-me?” Kageyama's soft voice spoke.

You look down at him from where you knelt down, just terrified of what could happen to him in the next minute.

“Kageyama, no matter what happens, I will never forget you, alright?” Your soft hand caressed his cheek.

“Pl-please don't tell m-me I am g-going to d-die?” He stumbled with his words.

“No, no. I am not saying that. If you happen to never return to your human form, I will still love you.” A tear rolled of your cheek like dew in the morning.

Kageyama suddenly closed his eyes and his breathing stopped. Waterfalls fell from your eyes as you saw your dear friend go limp in your arms, not holding himself up anymore. You wanted to go off in the village and get revenge with all the bitterness in your mouth, but something in your heart told you not to.

You closed your eyelids and felt some warmth in your hands. Opening them slowly, you saw him glittering proudly like a star in the night sky. You could have sworn that you were dreaming, but you pinch yourself only to realize you were wide awake.

He levitated in the air like a bird flying towards the glowing sun that warmed the ground. His torso turned back. His feet bare instead of hooves. His tail disappeared. Only the figure of Kageyama laid on the ground, fluttering his sapphire eyes open.“L-l/n-san?”

“Kageyama, you are alive and in your human form!” You hugged him tightly.

He glanced at himself up and down to see that you were right. He got up and spun you around like always.

“Yes, I am back to myself. L/n-san I simply adore you too!” He smashed his lips into yours.

Flushing in all the hues that existed, you did not hesitate one single but to kiss him back.

○◐❀❀❀❀❀❀◑○

As soon as your brother and mother moved into the palace, you and Kageyama got married. Weeks later, Oikawa got sentenced for trying to kill the king. Let's just say Oikawa could never look as handsome as he wanted anymore.

A/n: hey guys!! Thank you for reading another of my posts ☺️ hope you are having a good day!!

Hopefully you enjoyed!!

Thank you for coming!!

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ennoshitas-princess

Please DO NOT repost on any other platform!!

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tempobrucera · 2 years

Text

Trick or Treat

Pairing: Vampire!Ethan x Human!Reader x Demon!Thomas Summary: There's nothing hotter, more dangerous or more heartwrenching than spending a night with a vampire and a demon. Word Count: 7.4k Warnings: Smut, it's a demon and a vampire with a human Other: Wanted to write some Halloween smut and there will be another silly story on Halloween itself. Maybe something inbetween but I'm not gonna promise that. 🦇👻🎃🦇

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

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Every year their annual Halloween party is on the day of the closest full moon to Halloween. Last year it was during the Blood Moon, to Ethan's and Thomas' delight. This year it falls onto the Darkest Depths Moon in early November, to Thomas' and Ethan's delight. It can only fall on these two options, you figured out, and guessed that Ethan and Thomas would be delighted anyways. They are excited for Halloween and to be normal between all people around. Ethan's sharp vampire fangs a cool feature for any costume, not hiding them away, like he usually does. Thomas' ever changing eye colour a prop no one questions at a Halloween party. Finally he can let the colour change how his eyes want to, let them flicker when he's excited instead of surpress it, and not only play around with his human eye colour that changes with the weather and sometimes with his mood but not quite as they want to.

"Nice costume," Victoria says when you open the door for her and she sees you in your pink ensemble, pink jacket, pink pencil skirt with a slit, the black sunglasses with the pink shades and the plush dog you are carrying with you which you put into a pink and purple sweater, "Elle Woods."

You laugh: "Thank you, likewise, you look hot."

"Hmmm," she doesn't look too convinced. Which isn't like Vic, she's standing in front of you as a nun. A really sexy version of a nun, you have to admit, which makes her disappointment even more confusing. Her habitat dress is short, showing off her legs and her thighs, the top part out of black sheer, showing her bare boobs underneath, flowy bell sleeves and a white scapular collar - both also out of sheer. To top her outfit of, she has a veil on her head and a cross necklace around her neck, you are sure you have seen it on Thomas before. "I wanted Thomas to go as my little demon toy but he told me, he found something better when I was already getting dressed. What better is there than playing possessing a nun?"

The moment you open your mouth to tell her how much that sucks but that you will happily offer her your vampire boyfriend, Thomas is walking down the stairs. All words in your brain die the second you see him.

"Oh great, you could have told me sooner." Vic says when she sees him, "Now you two are matching. Two iconic blondes out of movies. Cher and Elle, Clueless and Legally Blonde. Thank you, Thomas, you asshole."

Your gaze lingers on his long legs. The white stockings, the really short yellow tartan skirt, his hairy thighs. The matching yellow tartan blazer, he went for nothing underneath. You can see how his eyes flicker with excitement when he looks at you and Vic and does a little twirl.

"You look great!" You assure him - he does, you swallow. Vic only groans next to you.

"You do," Vic has to admit as well, "If you wouldn't have left me hanging."

"Sorry!" He smiles at her shyly, pulls his skirt down a bit and changes the topic. "Who are we waiting for?"

Your group decided to meet up at Ethan's place, you staying over most of the time when he's home. Thomas securing himself Ethan's guest room because Ethan's maisonette is closer to the place the party takes place. Vic deciding to come over so you can go together and Damiano driving himself and his girlfriend directly to the party, without any stops.

"Only Ethan," you say. "I probably have to help him with his wings."

"I'll go," Thomas is already skipping up the first stairs. You can't help yourself to look at his legs again, skirt swinging. It doesn't take him long to come back down, ten minutes you talk with Vic, and he's there again. You can see that there's lipgloss on his lips now that wasn't there before, subtle eyeshadow and mascara on his lashes. "He still needs a few minutes and then we can goooooo."

"Let's play a little game until then," Vic looks at you, "Ethan, Damiano, Thomas - fuck, marry, kill?"

"What?" You look at her in turn, she smirks at the shock on your face.

You can feel how you're blushing, Thomas is blushing as well. He radiates heat even more than usually. A thing you got used to quickly after meeting him when you got together with Ethan. Kind of a shock, to first fall in love with a vampire and then being introduced to his demon friend, he's in a band with. You had an ordinary life before, nothing do with the supernatural - even though you were interested. Who couldn't be interested in something so special, not everyone gets to see. Thomas is always hot to the touch, always heating up a room when he's in it. You don't know, how many times you already cuddled up into his arms when you were cold. It's such a difference to how cold your boyfriend feels under your touch. But Thomas feels always cold himself - I think, I just radiate it everywhere, I don't keep it in. I'm always fucking cold. While Ethan is always feeling hot, whatever the weather - I keep all the heat in, I'm always warm.

"It's okay, you can say that you want to kill me, sink me to the bottom of the ocean, ram a dagger into my heart, a cruxifix." Thomas' eyes change from normal to a red blazing gaze to deep black and back to normal again, he smirks. "But I'm not that easy to kill."

Of course - you're a demon. And it instantly gets you heated too - it shouldn't, you think. Then Ethan gets down the stairs, you think you can avoid giving Vic an answer now. You don't want to kill any of them off, not even for Vic's mindfuck game question. Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see him. He's in white wide-leg sheer trousers, a cropped white blazer with golden stars on it, like Thomas he went for nothing underneath. He has a black glittery smokey eye, that looks a little bit to good on him, like the dark red lipstick he put on and instead of a halo, he wears a flower crown out of white lilies and roses. When he smiles, you can see his pointed teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see how Thomas longingly stares at his big, feathery, fluffy wings - they are black.

"You look so stunning," you have a closer look at his make up when he stands beside you. Carefully you leave a kiss on his cheek.

"And you can be my sidekick." Vic looks at him happily. "As Thomas, the idiot here, isn't matching anymore, but we would be the perfect fit."

"We're ready to go then."

"No," Vic says, "We aren't. Your partner in crime here still has to answer a question."

"I won't be offended, I promise." Thomas says, "I'm not gonna haunt you or something like that."

"What question are we talking about?" Ethan asks.

"Fuck, marry, kill. You, Damiano, Thomas."

"What an interesting question." Ethan looks at you. "I would like to know the answer as well."

"Marry Ethan."

"Obviously." Vic and Thomas say simultaneously, Ethan next to you laughs.

"Kill," you swallow, "Damiano."

You can feel, how Ethan looks at you. You can see, how Thomas' eyes flicker for a few seconds - then they turn completely white which is new, before you have to look away.

"That only leaves Thomas to fuck," Vic points out - you're sure, you are all aware, "Guess humans are too boring."

You wouldn't say that humans, like Vic and Damiano, are too boring but she has a point, you have to admit. After getting together with a vampire, Ethan being the gentlestest soul you have ever known, you wouldn't go back. There's so many stories he can tell, so much wisdom, so much fun, you wouldn't change it for the world, even when you're aware of the danger. What's a little danger for all the fun you can have? Maybe she's right, they are too boring. Thomas draws you in like a moth is drawn by the lights, you would have chosen Thomas anyways.

"We can leave then," Vic says and smirks at you and then at Thomas who nervously plays with the hem of his skirt, "Thanks for the interesting answer. Who would have known?"

Somehow you all didn't think about the fact, that Ethan's wings won't fit through the doors. It ends in a lot of giggling, Vic and you going out of the door first, grabbing one wing each carefully, and getting him through the door, while Thomas looks on. You know, you could have taken them off again, but where's the fun in that. On the way, people look at him, he hits some people with his wings and apologises profoundly to each of them. Going into the bar, Ethan, Vic and you repeat the same procedure as to get him out of the house.

You are already sweaty from dancing with Vic and Ethan when you get yourself a new drink later in the night, Ethan and Vic in the toilets to reapply Ethan's make up. Thomas went to look for Damiano when you arrived earlier, you have only seen him dancing with a girl and some guy laughing at his eyes during the evening. But sometimes, you can feel the heat creeping up on you but you can't see him anywhere. Like now, and then there's arms wrapping around your waist. Thomas' chin on your shoulder, his warmth is giving you the chills.

"You didn't have to say that just because Damiano wasn't there." His breath is hot against your ear. His body too close to yours, you shiver. It's too hot, to be cold but it shakes you to have him so close. Thomas doesn't step back when you turn around in his arms.

"That wasn't the reason, Thom."

"You sure? That wasn't a lie?"

Shuffling even closer, he puts one of his hands on your cheek. All his heat flowing through your body. Out of nowhere there's a quiet peng and Ethan stands next to you. Thomas startles a little and draws himself back, looking at Ethan apologetically.

"You don't have to stop just because of me." Ethan grins, puts one hand on your ass and pinches slightly.

Thomas looks at both of you unsure, his adam's apple bobbing. You bite your lip.

"Oh, I know this look." Ethan says, "That earlier wasn't a lie. I know."

And then, with a snap of his fingers, he's gone again, leaving you behind. Behind with a Thomas that looks at you nervously.

"I'll never get used to him doing this," he says.

Before there can be said anything else, the girl he danced with earlier turns up to get him. He leaves a light, hasty, sweet kiss on the corner of your mouth. Then he's gone and you're on your way back to Ethan again. You always find him, he makes it easy for you, you always find him when he wants to be found, your feet are just leading the way, when you want to turn the wrong direction they always stop and push you into the correct one. Another weird thing, you had to get used to. Magical but nonetheless, weird. Some clichés you had about vampires ruined during this time - No garlic? I'm Italian; No churches? I'm Italian; All lies. Sunlight just slightly hurts but with the right SPF everything is possible. You learned some new things as well, like this. It doesn't take long, he's sitting in a corner on a plush sofa.

"I thought, he isn't your type." Ethan says when you sit down next to him.

"He isn't." You draw circles and stars on his exposed stomach with your finger. "But have you looked at him?"

"Yes, babe. I see him every day." He smirks. "And he can be the goodest boy or a little shit, maybe we should find out …"

How that would translate into having him in your bed, you think.

Ethan's smirk gets even wider.

"Heeeey, get out of my head," you complain but laugh, "You intruder."

"Sorry. But I would really like to stay here for a bit longer, if you don't mind. They taste delicious today."

You let him. He's talking about your thoughts, you know. Ethan's species of vampires can read the minds of their loved ones, a feature only a vampire in love possesses, you learned this as well. They can feed on blood and thoughts. Ethan never takes advantage of it, usually he asks if he's allowed in, tries not to intrude or make it his advantage that he knows what you are thinking. But you also know, that sometimes, like today, his vampiristic traits want to take over because this is yet another thing you learned. The most vampire thing is for them to gather knowledge about the things surrounding them.

"We should try getting him there." He places a kiss to your temple.

Besides Ethan building up the heat in your core, with whispering dirty things into your ears, grazing your neck lightly with his fangs - leaving faint lipstick stains behind - or commenting on Thomas' long legs in that skirt, the night goes and ends with any further accidents. You almost think, that Thomas went home with the girl earlier but when Ethan and you're gathering your stuff, he's there to leave together with you.

For some reason, you get Ethan out of the door and into his home, the same way you got him out earlier in the day, instead of taking the wings off. Thomas watches when you take the wings off Ethan's shoulders. You can see the longingly stare again.

"I miss my wings," he says when he sees your questioning face. He wraps his arms around himself. "They were the fluffiest wings, with the softest feathers, and the most comforting. It was nice to wrap them around myself or to wrap them around others."

You look at Ethan, who nods and you go to Thomas to hug him sideways, leave a kiss in his hair: "I'm sure, you had the most beautiful wings in heaven, but I'm also sure, you're the hottest and cutest demon in hell."

Thomas blushes, before he excuses himself and says that he'll be back in a few minutes. You can hear how the wind is getting louder outside, how it whistles through the windows. You had a feeling it would rain all day. Sitting down next to Ethan, who still wears his flower crown, he almost automatically pulls you into his lap. He kisses you passionately, lets his hands wander over your hips, under your top to caress your back. You can hear how the rain starts dropping against the windows, before Thomas comes back into the living room.

"I should go to bed in my room," Thomas says when he sees you sitting on top of Ethan.

"Or you could join us in ours," Ethan says against your lips - but he isn't looking at you. "If you're interested."

You can't see Thomas' reaction behind you, but Ethan pulling you in for another kiss, wilder then the one before, pushing his tongue into your mouth, sneaking his hand under your skirt and Thomas breath hitching gets it away. When you get up from the couch, you can see how Thomas' eyes flicker with excitement and how he licks his lips. You leave a kiss on his lips. You're the first leaving for the bedroom - Ethan and Thomas staying behind to smoke a cigarette - Ethan slapping your butt lightly on the way out. You aren't complaining, it gives you time to undress yourself, except for your black and golden panties and to get comfortable on the bed - even a little bit too comfortable. You let your hands wander over your own body, down to your stomach and into your underwear, you close your eyes. You can feel that you're getting wet and when you lightly touch your clit, you let out a loud moan. And another moan when you can hear the door click, seconds later feel Ethan's hand in your hair.

"You playing with yourself?" Ethan whispers into your ear. At the same time, his other hand takes the same way, your own did before. Down your neck, a calloused thumb gliding over your nipple, further down over your stomach, he draws a circle around your navel before dipping his hand into your panties. Touching you only lightly, you try to buck up your hips, to get more of his touch. Instead of getting more he takes your hand and pulls it out of your panties. An unhumanly hot tongue around your fingers is the next thing, you can feel, it has you open your eyes. Ethan holds your wrist in a tight grip, while Thomas enthusiastically and sloppily sucks on your fingers. He moans around your fingers and his eyes turn white again. You have already seen it one time before today. First you thought, it's only another way his excitement shows and it is. But he's not only excited, he's aroused. It has you moan as well. With a loud plop he lets them go. Before you can pull them back, Ethan licks over your fingers as well, his tongue cold. You shiver.

Ethan gets his hands back into your hair and pulls you up on your knees. Slowly you take off Ethan's blazer, kissing over his toned muscles, his skin feeling cold to your touch. Just when you kiss his nipple, you can feel another hand in your hair, long fingers. Thomas pulls you into a filthy kiss - it's a lot of tongue, his tongue hotter than anything you have ever felt, pulling your hair as he pleases. You take off his blazer, his skin hot under your fingertips. Under your tongue, when you let it wander over his neck artery, when you lick and bite into his stomach. Next to you, Ethan takes off his trousers without making a big show out of it. Thomas puts hands on the waistband of his skirt to get it off as well, you look up to him, lips still on his warm stomach. When he sees your face, he stops himself, instead he only takes off his briefs and leaves the white stockings and the skirt on.

"Trick or Treat?" Ethan asks.

"What's the treat?" you want to know.

"A surprise."

"And the trick?" you ask.

"You'll have to find out," he looks at you and smiles.

"Trick!"

"Good girl!" It's coming from Thomas, not what you expected. You expected Ethan would be the trick as you can have him as a treat every day, but you apparently where mistaken.

You put a hand on his thigh, under his skirt, your head follows and you leave kisses all over his upper thigh. He radiates so much heat, you moan. But before you can put your lips around his dick, he pulls you back by your hair.

"No cara, I don't want you to burn yourself like that."

You swallow, when you look at him. If he thinks, he runs too hot to blow him, how hot is he going to feel other places, when he …

Ethan getting behind you on the bed, snaps you out of your thoughts. He's sitting against the headboard, he looks beautiful, his long black hair with the white flowers - otherwise naked - pulling you with him between his legs. His skin touches yours, his cold skin against yours that feels more and more heated thanks to Thomas. It has you whimpering, going from one opposite to the other. Getting down on the bed, Thomas' skirt slips a little bit and he bats his lashes at you when he readjusts it.

"Spread your legs for him," Ethan whispers and bites into your earlobe, almost nibbles on it. You do spread your legs, Thomas coming closer, skirt slightly swinging before he is between your legs, puts his warm hands on your waist and his hot lips on your shoulder, lipgloss sticks to your skin. "Can I stay in your head?"

Yes, he can stay. You want him there, you trust him. It is never an unpleasant feeling, just feeling his presence on another level. You know, he wants to because this is new, because Thomas is there. You wonder if this would work with him as well, with a demon. Ethan laughs against your ear while Thomas sucks on your neck until he left a hickey and looks at you: "I can't read your mind."

"Sorry," you pull him up to kiss him, "I was just wondering, if this would work with you too, Ethan getting into your thoughts?"

"I probably would have to leave him in," he tilts his head, "I don't think he can otherwise do it or … not sure if that would work at all."

Thomas is kissing down your neck again, between your boobs, then your thighs, leaving more sticky lipgloss - the right one first, then the left one. You are writhing in Ethan's arms. Thomas kisses the fabric of your panties, licks over the fabric and then lightly sucks at your clit through the fabric. Slowly, so slowly, he's taking your underwear off, lets it glide off your legs. Then he puts his lips on your clit again, drawing circles, before moving down and licking over your entrance, licking into your pussy. Pushing his tongue in and out, still so slowly. Sloppy, sticky, hot - you're sure the lipgloss is completely off his lips now.

"How does that feel?" Ethan still asks even though, he knows. He can see all your thoughts, he knows how it feels for you what Thomas is doing with you.

You grab for Ethan's arm, clawing at it - pressing your nails into his skin. The heat is travelling through all of your body, your toes curling in pleasure: "Hot, good, so good. God, god fuck, it feels so hot."

You enjoy it, but it's so much, you yank at his hair to get him off. It's too much, too hot. You feel like burning. From the outside and the inside.

"Sorry," Thomas looks up at you - your hand still in his hair, "I'm trying not to overheat."

One second ago, you thought how it is too hot but you want him to be what he is, to not restrict himself. To show his demonic self. You can hear how Ethan says something to him but you can't register what is being said. Thomas is even getting a bit warmer on top of you, pressing his warm lips to your throat again. Ethan sneaks his arm around you, between Thomas' and your body. Thomas whimpers, Ethan's cold hand also touching his skin before he lets his fingers dance over your skin. He pushes one of his cold fingers into you, cooling you down, it's soothing, and then a second one. Until Thomas adds one of his slim nimble, and above all hot, fingers. Hotter than before. You wish, he would put his tongue somewhere on you again. Ethan pulls Thomas by his hair to your nipple - he puts his mouth on you. He licks over your nipple and then switches to the other one. You whine when Ethan pinches the one Thomas isn't grazing his teeth over, cold slowly taking over again, while Thomas sucks on your other one.

He lets go of your nipple, and sits up. Thomas lifts his skirt playfully. Shows you a bit of skin, shows his hairy thighs, lets it fall down again. Plays with his stockings, then lifts his skirt completely. He's a tease. He teases you even more when he gets between your legs again, pushing his dick between your folds, before he pushes in to you. Thousand little flames are lighting up everywhere in your body. He teases more, pulling back and stopping until you push against him. He still pulls back, grinning at you, before he pushes into you again, harder this time. But he remains playful all the way. Playful and sweet but teasing and passionate. You wonder if it has to do with him being an angel before becoming a demon. There's no time to think about it further, Thomas pushes your legs upwards against your upper body, Ethan ghosting his lips along your neck, probably still leaving light lipstick marks on your skin. It's so hot and he gets so deep, you almost scream and you shake in Ethan's arm. You can't tell if you just came or not. Thomas stops, making sure you are okay, before building up a rhythm. It reminds you of the first time with Ethan, when he played a mindtrick on you - you wanted to try it, but you don't do it often now, passionate but too draining for both of you.

Calm is still washing over you. First you thought Thomas' ways of being calming to be out of place, for a demon of all creatures, but Thomas disagreed with you. Demons have to be calming, or at least know how to be calming because it's easier to possess people, he explained. He chuckled when you pointed out his chaotic tendecies. Everyone has their flaws, he said, even a fallen angel. Sometimes you see how he possesses Vic just for fun and for the chaos that it leads to, Vic an unwilling participant for the most part, always complaining to you it feels like he's trashing her insides but that it's wildly satisfying and mostly she laughs about it with him together when the chaos is over. Otherwise you never asked how possession works or how it looks like or what he's doing as a demon - you trust him nonetheless.

"Are you sure, you should be this trusting," Ethan whispers into your ear, so that Thomas can't hear him, "He's a demon after all?"

Ethan drags his teeth and especially his fangs over the skin on your neck and then over the sensitive skin on your neck. You trust him as well, even though he's a vampire. He wouldn't bite you, drain you, sometimes he just pierces your skin softly with his sharp fangs to get a little taste of blood but never more. Thomas alters his rhythm slightly and gets your full attention back in a heartbeat. You moan, and then you moan into Thomas' mouth, one hand buried in his hair and the other one pulling at Ethan's hair behind you, knocking off the flower crown that was still on his head.

"You should ride him. Thomas deserves a Halloween treat as well, right?"

You turn around together, to get on top of him. Thomas moans, holding you, both of you moving your hips in the same rhythm. The little flames are still dancing - the light of the lamp on the bedside table flickers. Outside is lightning, thunder not too far behind. Thomas is sweaty, he's so unbelievable sweaty under you, his hair a mess, his bangs clinging to his forehead. Sweat on his throat that you lick away, your tongue tingling.

Interested you see how there's black reddish smoke coming from between Thomas' lips but he draws it back before you can get closer. He looks at Ethan.

"I'm not the one you have to ask. If you both want to."

He looks at you again: "Can I?"

"What?" You only have a vague idea.

"Get in you."

You thrust your hips downwards. He chuckles: "Not that kind of in."

He looks at you smiling, tiny bits of smoke still swirling in the air, and you realise that he means possessing you. You nod, you want this, you want to know how it feels. Thomas puts his hand on the back of your neck and then kisses you open-mouthed, the smoke still swirling between you, then leaving Thomas' body to find it's way into yours. If anything else before felt like burning and a thousand little fires, this feels like forest fire settling low in your stomach. On it's way Thomas touches something in you that you can't quite place.

You can feel how Thomas' skin gets colder, his eye colour turning into a pleasant grey-ish green, flickering only lightly. In the same moment, your body heat spikes up. You can feel how your eyes go through the motions like Thomas' before. They flicker because of Thomas' and your own excitement, you go to a dark place when they turn into black orbs, you feel Thomas' passion and wild rage taking over your body when they turn red and they stop at white, you both being incredibly aroused.

This time you can feel your orgasm build up, it's slow. Never did it feel this slow before. Ever. It builds up and up and up, but you don't release. You can't. You want to, but you can't.

"You can let go, it's gonna feel good for both of us."

It sends sparks through your body, Ethan got up and behind you, slowly grazing his fangs over your throat. Thomas pulls you down into a sloppy kiss, draws his demon back, the smoke between you, when you cum and cum and cum. It doesn't stop, it holds on for so long, you almost get dizzy, your head spinning. You crash down over him, he leaves gentle kisses in your hair and on your face while you still shake and whine. And then you can feel how he shakes as well, how he cums and moans into your mouth, his eyes white. The light turns off completely, it turns on again when he holds you in his arm, his breath slowly evening out.

"Vic said this hurts?" you mumble against his lips. You are curious, because it didn't. It didn't hurt, a little unusual. But otherwise there was just blinding pleasure and comfort.

"Yes," he mumbles back, "but you gave yourself willingly and it was for pleasure, not for chaos. She's always so shocked when I do it."

You stay like this, twirling strands of his hair between your fingers, you both breathing together and Ethan behind you drawing a pattern on your back.

"Ethan deserves a treat as well, don't you think?" He chuckles, it's cute. "And he's your treat as well."

You're tired and so calm in Thomas' arms but deep down in your soul you know, that you want to pleasure Ethan as well. And then it hits you, that Thomas touched your soul when he was possessing you. Before them, you never thought about the fact that your human flesh might house something else than organs. But then Ethan came around, a vampire with a soul, who explained that there are such and such, some with and some without - it depends on how they were created. And Thomas, a demon, that shouldn't have a soul but the longer you thought about it, and about your own, you think there's still something like a store somewhere in him. Ethan looks at you for a second, before looking at Thomas, showing him his fangs. Even Thomas seems to be intimidated by them, he recoils.

"I didn't take anything, I swear!"

"You better not."

It reminds you, how dangerous this is. You're between a demon that could do god knows what with your soul and body, burning through your skin, and a vampire that could drain all your blood from you. They wouldn't, you know - you trust them. But the possibility still remains, you shiver. You feel hot all over again. Ethan gives him another look before you get off Thomas with a heavy heart to give Ethan your undivided attention. Getting up, you can see how Thomas' cum is black. Such a stark contrast to Ethan's translucent one you are so used to.

"I thought, you told me, it's normal," Ethan says.

"It is," Thomas rolls his eyes, "Usually it is, I'm not having sex as a demon that often. It's too hard to control myself and only then it happens."

For a second or two, you ask yourself how that would look like, Thomas not controlling himself. In your bed. You bite your lips, Ethan growls at him and Thomas' eyes turn the darkest black you've ever seen, then a blazing shade of red before going back to normal. You kiss Thomas again, before Ethan pulls you back and kisses you possessively, leaving lipstick behind. He lays you down on the bed again, your head hitting the mattress - Thomas pulls your head onto his thigh, you leave a kiss on his skin and play with the hem of his skirt.

Ethan spreads your legs, he kisses you, cooling you completely down when he thrusts into you. He finds a rhythm quicker than Thomas, being used to you, to your needs, probably still being in your head, knowing exactly what you want. His thumb slowly circling your clit - Thomas slowly carding his fingers through your hair. Biting your tongue, you can taste the metallic taste of blood. Ethan kisses you, his lipstick already smudged, lets your tongues swirls together, moans when he gets blood on his tongue.

Ethan has more strength than Thomas and he shows it off, fucking you into the mattress. He's not letting you cum. He makes it look like, it's your choice but all three of you know that it's just show. It's his decision, not really yours anymore but one time he doesn't stop you.

"When you cum, Thomas can use the paddle on you." It gets you so excited, you almost don't stop yourself. "Or you can use it on him, whatever is worse."

In the end, you do control yourself, when you see Thomas looking intimidated, his eyes going wide. But you also see interest flashing in his eyes. Even more interest and fascination reflects on his face when Ethan bites into your throat, exactly where Thomas left a hickey earlier, he's still fucking you, and draws blood from you. Cold lips on your throat, your eyes are rolling back, Thomas licking his lips. Ethan cums before you, still sucking on your throat but it doesn't take you long to follow.

All three of you are a cuddle pile, exhausted. There's Thomas' sticky lipgloss everywhere, Ethan's lipstick - smudged, stains on your skin, dark eyeshadow - wiped away, Thomas' mascara - also smudged. You know, that you don't look any better, you're happy.

"You really didn't take anything?" Ethan wants to know again, he wants reassurance for something. He puts his hands around Thomas' throat, you putting your hands on his forearm, and he loosens his grip.

"I wouldn't, I would never! You know that!"

Ethan gets his hands off then, looking at him apologetically and whispering a silent sorry.

"What are you taking?" You ask, you put your arm around his hips, your other one around Ethan's. You know a lot about vampire lore and Ethan's history but you still don't know that much about him, you would like to know more.

"The souls of people who made a pact with Satan. And … Some here and there, consensually, of course. I would never take some for myself when my opposite doesn't want to give. And I would never only take a part of it," he looks at Ethan angrily. It seems like he was accused of a greater crime than just taking a soul.

"Why?"

Thomas sighs, and Ethan sighs as well.

"Some demons only take parts of human souls, it fucks them up completely, it's worse than when you just take them whole, it makes most humans go insane and …," he swallows, "Some of them just have fun feasting on the best chunks. I wouldn't. I only touched because it looked so pretty and warm, I'm sorry."

"I know, I'm sorry too, I'm just protective." He presses a kiss to Thomas' sweaty forehead - leaving a smudged lipstick stain there as well, to his sweaty bangs and you do the same.

"What happened to your wings?" Your own curiosity is taking over now, Ethan caresses your shoulders and Thomas takes your hand for a short moment.

He rolls out of bed, still dressed in the yellow skirt, the white stockings slipped down. Ethan is behind you, holding you securily in his arms. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the little oh Ethan breathes into your ear.

Thomas' wings are a dirty grey, some dirt sticking to them, a tiny bit of blood. You can see that he stopped taking care of them a long time ago, but for the most part, you see that his wings are clipped. It breaks a piece of your heart to see it, and this is new, you can feel something break in Ethan too. Snap - just like that. It's a weird moment to know something like this, but in this moment you know that you two belong together. And still Thomas' wings are one of the most beatiful things you have ever seen.

"Could I touch them?" You don't want to be rude but the feathers are drawing you in like a magnet.

"They are dirty," he blushes.

"We can wash them," you offer.

"We all have to shower anyways," Ethan says, "You can go, I'll do the bed first."

You get him under the shower and Thomas shudders and shakes his wings at you when the water is still too cold for him, hits his wings and then your face, you laugh. Carefully you wash them with a soft sponge you found hidden deep in Ethan's bathroom cabinets.

"Why did you become a demon?" There's still the fear to overstep but he seems open for the conversation.

"You know why Ethan turned? Same reason, but I did it out of my own will."

Love. That was the reason.

Ethan was a normal person at the beginning of the 1800's. He opened one of the first bookshops in Italy. You suspect that his old love for books as a human only amplified the love for knowledge a vampire has even more in his undead life. He was in love with a girl who wasn't allowed to see him, because her father thought she could have something better than him. So they met during dark nights, having dinner together in fields. Until one night, he didn't make it home. He died that night on the way home. He fell, his oil lamp falling with him, catching his feet and the next day only his corpse could be found. The girl felt deep guilt and blamed herself, like Ethan having a knack for the occult, she searched the hidden section in his bookstore until she found something interesting. She had a cat jump over his corpse to become a vampire. It looked like it didn't work but three nights later, he was standing in front of her, in one piece, no burn mark except one on his body, with fangs and an unquenchable thirst for blood. You asked how he felt with it but he reassured you, that it was absolutely fine; he can't remember the way home, or dying, there's no trauma. Just a pair of fangs - could have been worse.

"Can I ask what happened? Who did this to you?"

"I played dice with Satan to safe the soul of a loved one. I … I lost. So I gambled my own soul, to have another chance at it. I won, she released the soul of my loved one but kept mine instead. I should have read the fine print on which conditions she would have play me again, I was never suppossed to get both back. But stupid trusting me having faith, went for a another game, I already lost my soul and already knew I would be cast out of heaven. She offered me that she'll let me go, live a soulless life with my loved one, but leave us and any offspring past that alone, forever. I went for it, it went okay, I was finally lucky until I wasn't and I lost. In return she kept me in hell for fifthy years and had the pleasure to turn a fallen angel into a demon unwillingly." He looks at you, and you look back, carefully washing away at his wings. "She cheated on me, she played with a loaded dice."

"Was it -, was it for another angel?"

"No, she was human, like you or Vic. She lived a long and fulfilled live, had kids who had kids who had kids who had kids who had kids and so on over the years. She died a long time ago, but I still visit the family from time to time. I'm still always invited for birthdays." He smiles at you sadly. "I … I would do it again, you know. I would always do it again, if it means she had a peaceful happy life in the end, I would do it."

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say. You remember some yellowed, old looking photographs in Thomas' wallet, you can have a guess now that this is her family and somehow his as well.

"It's not too bad, it could be worse," he smiles, "I love the chaos I can cause, I could have never in heaven, even when I would have liked too and I would have liked to, believe me, and some things are more of a perk than a burden. It's okay, trust me."

Ethan joins you in the bathroom as well, he washes his face first, before having a look into the shower.

"You okay in here?"

"Yes," you smile at him, "Could you just hold that wing, he always moves it when I touch there, I just can't clean that one spot."

Ethan does you the favour, smiling at Thomas, who in turn isn't having it at all. His wing is flapping again and he splashes Ethan with water that drops out of the feathers.

"Lets try the other way around," you say and hold Thomas' wing again, "Can you clean it?"

The sponge hits Ethan' face - Thomas giggles.

Ethan somehow does manage and you finally get out of the shower. All clean, getting wrapped into warm and fluffy towels.

"Sorry that these are still grey."

"Don't worry, they won't get any better, they are supposed to be a shiny silver but that's long gone."

"It's still a lovely colour." You kiss the tip of his nose.

Ethan kisses your cheek: "We can have some tea in bed and I stole some cake from the party."

You raise his eyebrows at him, sounds more like a Thomas' thing to do.

"I'm full of surprises! It's shaped like little bats, how could I not?" He laughs and you kiss him lovingly. Thomas looks at the floor, you kiss him as well. Not because you feel sorry for him, but because you want to. Ethan smiles at you both.

You all have tea together in bed, the cake Ethan nicked from the party on a plate between you. You are talking more about Ethan's earlier life, but also about Thomas' earlier life - your head rests on Ethan's shoulder. Thomas tells you something about another stint in hell because he refused to get a soul from someone who didn't want to let it go, but that after this he met Vic. And how he mostly prefers being a chaotic, independent demon over being an angel bound to heaven. It eases you a little bit.

When all the cake is eaten and the teacups are empty, Thomas wants to leave and go to his own bed. Ethan and you look at each other, it's not an option. You pull him back into bed and Thomas smiles shyly at both at you but doesn't complain.

Thomas was right, he has the fluffiest wings, it's the most comforting experience, there's still a thunderstorm outside: You fall asleep with Thomas' wings wrapped around Ethan and your own body.

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END.

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Trivia (aka useless facts about this, with me, a section no one ever asked for):

Elle Woods - Legally BlondeCher Horowitz - Clueless Lilies and roses - Lilies represent the Holy Spirit and stand for the link to the afterlife. Roses "attract angels of love" and they strengthen and cultivate new relationships. Bookstores in Italy - The first bookstore in Italy was opened in 1810 in Genoa Legend about Pope Sylvester II - The legend says he played dice with the devil to become pope

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Taglist: @writingmaneskin, @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso, @weareoddlydrawn, @hiraetheral, @imjustanerdwholikestoread, @cuzimitaliano, @hopelessromantic727, @dating-villain, @maneskinsimp, @lauraosheaoh, @till-you-scream-and-cry, @wonderlandishell, @h1ppieth1ngs, @paralianeyes, @roisinmillar, @livvyysstuff, @que--sera--sera

#thomas raggi #ethan torchio #maneskin #måneskin #my writing #maneskin fiction #maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi x y/n #ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio x y/n #maneskin x y/n #maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfic #fanfiction #thomas raggi x reader x ethan torchio

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fatbiscuit · 6 months

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Lunar Plush AU Part Three. This is the third chapter of a collaborative AU with Ultimawolffox.

Part 3: A Dangerous Choice

I am unsure what it is Bloodmoon thinks about me. Other than capturing me he has yet to hurt me, but that does not mean he won’t or that he has not ended the lives of countless others. Bloodmoon was called away by Ruin to do something. I have no idea what it is they want Bloodmoon for, but I suppose whatever it is probably involves blood.

Earlier Bloodmoon had decided to test the capabilities of what I could do. The method he decided to use was to motivate me with what I could only assume was some sort of dog treat. The treats did not taste great, but I was honestly just glad that they were edible. I do not know what kind of (if any) regularly scheduled feeding plans Bloodmoon could be counted on to create. The tricks started with the usual sit or stand up but they very quickly escalated to hit that box or stab that barrel. A part of me was glad to have something to do in order to get my mind off of my situation, but it did get tiring. I was relieved when Bloodmoon was called away, but now I am left with just my thoughts.

I wish that I had some way to communicate with Lunar. I suppose that I really should not want to risk putting him in danger, but what other hope do I have? It is not anybody else really even knows that I exist. I guess maybe if Bloodmoon started to trust me enough I could escape on my own, but how long would that take? I do not know how long I can manage to stay interesting enough to warrant not being killed. I miss my room, I miss my old food, but most of all missed Lunar. I especially missed the nice relaxed conversations we would share. I wish I could just make everything go back to the way it was, but I know that there is nothing that I can do.

As if on queue to confirm my growing concerns, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Bloodmoon returning. He is holding a collar in one hand and a leash in the other. I can feel dread pouring into my stomach as I quickly realize the only likely purpose for such items, I am about to be put on a leash. I don't know where or how Bloodmoon acquired the items, but knowing Bloodmoon I probably do not even want to know.

“Follow us, we will show you what this place is,” Bloodmoon said as he reached out to attach the collar around my neck. Nothing he ever says feels like a request, but more like a knowing statement of what is to follow.

Out of instinct I start to back away, but I know better than to try to fight them again, especially while I was still trapped. Within seconds I exchanged my chain for a leash, I never thought I would have preferred my chain to something else before. I was practically dragged from my old prison and forced to keep pace with my new “caretaker”.

“If you behave, we have a surprise!” the energetic second Bloodmoon voice explained.

As shocking as it sounds, the idea of a surprise from Bloodmoon does nothing to ease my mind. I now have some new unknown variable to worry about. I decide worrying about it will have to wait as I start to receive a tour of this strange place.

I do not dare to make a fuss, I honestly want to keep as little of their attention on me as possible. Unfortunately, they were very easily bored and I was something to mess with. They show me the computer, where they kept the blood…, the door (locked, of course), and finally they lead me down a dimly lit corridor. I can start to feel the tour winding down to an end and begin to again wonder what would happen next, I did not need to wait long.

As I follow BloodMoon to the final part of the base I can barely make out a shape of something pressed to the corner of the room. The lighting was terrible, but there was no mistaking what the shape was, it was a human tied to the wall.

“What, what are they doing here?” I instinctively ask, trying (and possibly failing) to hide my horror.

Bloodmoon offered me a knife and reasoned, “Oh, isn’t it obvious? It is here for you to kill it, can you?!”

Not knowing what else to do I take the offered knife into my hands and stare speechlessly at the terrified figure across from me. He was staring back and was probably just as scared as I was, maybe he was even more frightened.

“We told you there would be a surprise!” the second voice of Bloodmoon happily announced.

Did they seriously expect me to kill them? Well, Bloodmoon was insane, so it is not like you could really put anything past their expectations. But-

“What are you waiting for?!” the second Bloodmoon questioned, clearly growing impatient.

The man was trapped, in danger, and had no escape. I suppose, in a way, he and I are in the same boat. I stand still, with no idea what to do.

The first Bloodmoon decided to give a chilling command consisting of a single word, “Kill.”

There is now no question what was demanded of me. The real question I have left now is not what should I do, but what can I do?

What choice do I even have?

#Lunar Plush AU

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mothwithteeth · 2 years

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bakugou is not a dog person

i don't think this counts as a true fic but it is shameless self indulgent fluff about bakugou not wanting a dog

warnings: non-graphic mentions of animal cruelty and injury but otherwise just truly tooth rotting fluff

word count: ~1k

also here's a visual reference for the puppy <3

Katsuki hears you scramble to the door at the sound of his keys jingling. You’ve been waiting anxiously for him. That’s never a good sign. “Welcome home! How was your day at work?”

“What did you do?”

“Me? I’m just happy to see you! I missed you!” your eager chatter is not enough to cover the sound of high pitched barking and frantic scratching coming from your bedroom door.

“What was that?” he moves you aside to go look for himself. A wiggly puppy noses his way out as soon as the door is open a crack. In it’s excitement, it nearly knocks him over. You couldn’t even be harboring a small dog? This thing has to be 50lbs.

“I think I’m going to name him Crouton. What do you think?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad a name. What would you call him?”

“I’m not calling him anything. He can’t stay.”

“But, baby-”

“Don’t ‘but, baby,’ me. We’re not getting a dog.”

“I mean, I already have the dog. The getting part has been accomplished.” He just glares at you. He clearly doesn’t think you’re as funny as you think you are. “Someone threw him out of their car! They didn’t even slow down! I couldn’t just leave him!” you scoop up the puppy. “And I told him I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him ever again. Are you going to tell him otherwise?” you lift the puppy to his eye level. Cuteness you couldn’t hope to compete with.

Katsuki isn’t fucking heartless, so when you hold the puppy up to his face and he gets a little kiss, he lets out a defeated sigh and throws up his hands. “I’m not taking care of it. Or cleaning up after it.”

“Of course. I can take care of a dog by myself, you know.” He does know. He’s not sure how much he likes the sound of it, though. But you do look very happy with your new friend, and that makes the dog alright in his book. He’s not doing anything for it, though. Or petting it. Or anything like that.

Crouton settles into your life nicely over the next couple of days. He gets a clean bill of health from the vet after his initial scrapes and dehydration are cleared up, and he takes to training like a dream. He already sits, stays, and recalls on command. Even Katsuki has to concede that he’s a good boy when you show off what you’ve taught him. “Crouton, shake.” and right on cue, Crouton offers his paw. He eagerly gobbles down the treat you offer as a reward.

“Alright. That’s not bad. Think he could play dead or something?”

“Definitely! He’s such a smart boy I’m sure he’ll be able to pick it up!” You give Crouton another treat just for being a good boy and keeping his attention on you.

“Hmph. I guess we’ll see.”

When you go to bed that night, you see some of your old dog training books on the nightstand. Maybe Katsuki thinks you need a refresher. You’re a little surprised he knows where they are, but you’re kinda glad to have them all in one place. Maybe you could use a refresher. You pick up your favorite to flip through before going to sleep, and don’t comment when Katsuki picks up another one, and carefully checks the title of the one you’re holding.

Within a week, you and Crouton are nigh inseparable. He wants to be attached to your hip, and he’s so well behaved that you can take him with you to all kinds of places. It doesn’t take long for his toy collection to develop either. You want to spoil him, so you get him all kinds of different toys. Tug ropes and tennis balls and stuffed toys as far as the eye can see, but you don’t remember buying that antler. Or anyone gifting you that expensive looking treat puzzle set up. And you definitely didn’t get that super plush bed in the corner of the front room that Crouton likes to lay in.

A week from then, you find a new bag of food in the airtight bin you keep it in. “What’s this?” you finally broach the subject.

Katsuki responds through a mouthful of his own breakfast. “Did you read the ingredient list of the shit you were feeding him? He’s a champion. He can’t eat garbage.”

“Ah. Well, Crouton thanks you.”

“Crouton is a weak-ass name. Shoulda named him Bonecrusher, or something.”

“I thank you, too.” you gloss right over his comment. The tips of his ears flush pink as heat rises up his neck.

“Yeah, well. You seem to like him a lot. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to him,” he grumbles, still eating his breakfast. You kiss his cheek anyway. “Well thank you for that, too, then.” You only get a grunt in response, and you have to hold back your laughter. It’s a stroke of fortune you find his stubbornness so endearing.

Katsuki can’t pretend forever, though. You unfortunately have to ask him to watch Crouton for you while you’re out of town for the weekend a month after getting the poor pup. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything for him.” He balks.

“I know, but I don’t trust him with anyone else. Pretty please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You really don’t have to do that much convincing. Of course he’ll watch Crouton for you. He only wishes you didn’t have to go. They’re both stage 5 clingers.

When you finally get home, you expect to have a lot of groveling to do. You even bring food your mom made for him as an act of bribery. Your worries are quickly alleviated though, when you find the pair on the couch. They’re both asleep; Crouton splayed on top of Katsuki nose to chin.

Before you can take a picture, Crouton wakes to your presence, leaping to his feet directly on top of Katsuki’s belly before launching into your arms. “Fucking dog-” but as soon as he sees why he needs to contain himself before he tackles you too. And then he realizes he’s been caught.

“I think Crouton likes you,” you tease with that sly little smile he likes so much.

“I guess he does.”

“I think you like Crouton, too.” you nudge him.

“Whatever. He can stay.”

You can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t need to say it. You have all the evidence you need.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #puppy pictured does not share a backstory with the fictional puppy #just so we're clear

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projectbluearcadia · 11 months

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Don't You Just LOVE Runtime Errors?

Well, at least I was able to make some semblance of the cookies from last time, but...

Annelie glances up from the goodies each of the brothers offered up, gathered in the center of the table to find Satan and Mammon glowering at the sticks they drew.

Diavolo: I guess I’m on your team, Anne.

Beel: Ah, me too.

Diavolo laughs as he shows her the glowing black “2” drawn on his stick, holding it up to Annelie’s “1.” Levi and Beel are both holding “3” and “4” respectively, both smiling widely.

Levi: For once, my gacha luck isn't shit.

Satan: I want to pull again.

Mammon: Seconded.

Lucifer: Don’t complain, you two. You know it was completely random.

Satan: Oh yeah? What position do you have?

Lucifer flips his stick over to reveal a red “2”, surprising Satan in the process.

Lucifer: Mammon is the team captain. Aren’t you, Mammon?

Mammon: ...yeah.

Lucifer: And there you have it. And Annelie, I’m not going to go easy on you.

Annelie: When have I ever asked you to? Besides, I’m in it for Satan’s cat plush. It’s adorable.

Lucifer: It might be cute, but Cerberus is cuter.

Diavolo: Agreed. How is he, but the way?

Lucifer: Excellent, thank you for asking.

Annelie: Dog people are so bizarre.

Lucifer: Remind me who owns you?

Annelie: Oh, shut up, you dirty switching bastard.

Lucifer: Why don’t you make me?

Satan: Would you two stop? Levi comes to me to bitch about hearing you across the hall. It’s bad enough I have to hear it second-hand.

Levi: Well, you would bitch too! Those disgusting normies go at it every night!

Diavolo laughs.

Diavolo: Well, Anne does need to be fed a few times a day.

Satan: She might need it, but that doesn’t mean Lucifer has to have so much damn fun doing it!

Annelie: You know, you just make Lucifer feel even better about himself when you whine about it. You know what a show-off he is.

Lucifer: You want to repeat that?

Annelie: Am I wrong? Please, tell me you don’t enjoy the fact that you’re the only one in this house that’s having se—

Levi: Ugh, whatever! Let’s just start the game already!

Levi slams two decks of cards onto the table.

Levi: Draw, team captains!

Annelie smirks at Mammon as she takes the first card off the top.

Annelie: No hard feelings, Mammary.

Mammon draws a card himself as Annelie’s card glows.

Mammon: I’m gonna win those cookies, Annie.

Annelie: Yeah? What’d you get?

She flips over her black card, pointing at the shining “10” in the corner, even as Mammon displays a smaller “7” on his red card.

Annelie: Guess it’s favored on our side, isn’t it?

Mammon: Tch.

Annelie: First task....

Annelie frowns as she looks down at the text appearing on her card, and Diavolo leans over curiously to read it.

Annelie: “Some members of your team(s) have been afflicted with an unknown malady. Because this may pose health risks during gameplay, please resolve the conditions on these members first.”

Lucifer: Ah... sorry, that’s my fault.

Annelie glances at Lucifer curiously, even as he makes a gesture at her, and blue magic glows around her ears.

Lucifer: Continue.

Annelie: But it said members. Plural. Also, the malady was “unknown”

Lucifer: Well, a lot of mine don’t register properly in magic systems because they’re too strong, but... Mammon, when was that curse I put on you last week supposed to wear off?

Mammon: It was supposed to wear off on its own?!

Lucifer: Satan... don’t tell me you unbound it again.

Satan: Tch.

I can’t tell whether Lucifer is annoyed or proud.

Beel: If we’re talking about curses, then doesn’t some of Asmo’s makeup count?

Asmo: If you’re suggesting I take off my makeup—

Satan: No, I doubt it’s his makeup. In the first place, those curses are all put on file and recognized according to Devildom Law.

Diavolo: ...

Annelie glances over at Diavolo, who has a knuckle pressed to his mouth.

Annelie: You okay, Diavolo?

He glances over at her, surprised before he jumps up from the table, startling those present in the process.

Annelie: Diavolo?

Diavolo: I... sorry.

He ruffles his hands through his hair, a deeply concerned look crossing his features.

Diavolo: I think... I’ve put all of you in terrible danger.

#it's okay dia #no one will die probably #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me!#fanfiction #shameless self indulgence #obey me angst #LuciAnne

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

hunting the fates || one

Summary: When the repercussions of giving up your Immortality come back to haunt you, a journey to Hell seems to be the only solution. With the help of your friends, both old and new, you set out on a journey to destroy the three Fates who have messed with your life long enough. There you discover that your power extends further than you ever thought possible, as does the Winter Soldier’s. Hell isn’t for the weak-hearted—good thing you’re determined to turn your cursed heart from stone to muscle again, no matter what it takes.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (Fem) POC Enhanced Reader; Sam Wilson x Female Original Character

Trope: Fantasy/Mythology/Horror; Soulmates/Mates; Angst/Fluff/Smut; Bisexual! Bucky Barnes; Multiple POV’s

Based on the Song(s): ‘Power’ by Isak Danielson ; ‘Breakfast’ by Dove Cameron ; ‘Darkside’ by Neoni ; ‘Bow - Slowed’ by Reyn Hartley

AO3 Link

Warnings: strong language; inaccurate Greek mythology; mentions of infertility; mentions of slavery

Word Count: 6,100+

Author’s Note: Oh my Gods! Here we go with the fantasy sequel! I’m so excited for this, you guys have no idea. Like I’ve stated, the Greek mythology is both accurate and inaccurate on purpose so do not bully me lmao. Every song is for a certain character or couple! You can guess who “Bow-Slowed” is for... wink wink! xxMoni

The temperature was cool in Hell.

Or at least, moderate.

The exact word was lost for Bucky Barnes, who was hurdled through time and space and fuck-all after being tossed into a fiery portal and landing on a plush, red carpet in the middle of the most impressive room he has ever seen. One crane of the neck and he took in the castle’s black walls, adorned with intricately carved designs—statues that sat in their own miniature thrones; gargoyles of winged angels…or demons…with wide open mouths and silent screams; pillars indented with a language he did not understand.

There were doors everywhere. In front of him, to his sides, probably behind. Beautiful black wood that curved in arches and squares. Through some, he swears he sees eyes of all colors staring back. Through others, pure darkness.

He’s positive the portal already closed and trapped him in whatever alternate universe this was.

But Bucky Barnes knew where he was. He would be an absolute idiot to ask.

Hell. Bucky literally landed in Hell.

Every original perception he had of Hell painted a land of chaos. Endless screaming from the poor or deserving souls trapped in the rivers, that damned three-headed dog aiming for necks, fire engulfing even the tightest corners. But what greeted him was comfortable quiet, the way a throne room usually functioned. The air was clean and absent of the smell of iron. Not one lick of fire started at his feet.

“I see you put up a fight.”

And upon that throne of beautifully carved wood that could also possibly be bone—was the most beautiful man Bucky Barnes has ever seen.

Black hair with highlighted blue when reflected with light, blue flame lightly touching his fingertips, and tattoos of such terrific and complicated designs stemming from his exposed collarbones, to the other areas of pale skin. In fact, he may be covered in ink. The man—the God—before him was sculpted brilliantly, stretching the confines of his dark grey dress shirt and tailored black pants. A black, cashmere scarf lay loose upon his broad shoulders and down to his seated hips. Those dark blue eyes were almost black. With his left foot resting on his right knee and his sliced jawline leaning on a tattooed hand, the God of the Underworld was the picture of casual and detached elegance. Seemingly disinterested in what just landed at the foot of his throne.

Bucky felt a shudder beside him, then realized he was still holding something—someone in his arms.

Shortcake.

He loosened his grip, only to have you fling from his arms and into a standing position. Heavy footsteps, green light illuminating from the ends of your hair, and then—

“Maxwell told me you were feisty.”

Maxwell, at the corner of Bucky’s eye, flinched. Not frightened, but guilty and ashamed.

To Bucky’s ultimate horror, you growled and spit at the base of the throne. “Bastard!”

The God of the Underworld’s disinterested expression brightened, his smile widening. “Charming, too.”

Sam pushed against Bucky’s shoulder, ordering him to stand down. Bucky blinked a few times to focus, his vision white around the edges and his arms suddenly cold.

Hell is hot. Why is he cold?

“But my name is not bastard—” The God stood to his full height, dwarfing you and emitting such a punch of command, Bucky wavered. “My name is Hades.”

“That’s not your real name,” you said, teasing along every word. As if you were tempting the God to smite you, to curse you, to dismiss you—Bucky knows you’re buying time to assess the room, the situation.

Hades grinned, his chuckle barely restrained. “And in time, you’ll learn it.”

Sam made sure to stand to Bucky’s right, leaving his metal arm free. They’ve both adopted slightly defensive stances, but have remained more cautious than anything. Sam doesn’t need to voice it—Bucky knows they’re both terrified of your boldness.

“What gives you the right?” you yelled, green light unfurling from your fingertips. “First the Fates fuck with all our lives and now you want to get involved? Why is it up to us to help you? Deal with it yourself!”

It’s at that moment that Bucky noticed two other people in the room. Or…one person and one—what in the world?

A gorgeous, golden-haired woman standing to the right side of Hades’s throne snorted softly, rolling her…red…eyes when you glared at her. Her wavy hair extended to the middle curve of her back, and the baby hairs at her forehead curled from the humidity Bucky had not yet noticed. She was blushed in her high cheeks, and wearing black leathers that covered every inch of her, but did not hide her strong figure. A fighter, Bucky realized, who protected the throne and the God sitting on it.

But it’s the chains wrapped around her wrists, unconnected and functioning as bracelets. Chains that weren’t decorative, but rather unchosen. The cold in Bucky’s veins deepened into a burning rage, like dry ice, from the sight.

A slave. Not a fighter. A slave that Hades has as his right hand—

“Your defiance, trickery, game—whatever you want to call it, has chosen you. Those damn crones were waiting for an out. By blindsiding them, they blindsided me.”

“Not. My. Problem,” you seethed.

“It’s all our problems!” A voice, light as a butterfly, fluttered from behind Hades’s shoulder. Bucky recognized it as a female voice, a voice soft like a feather’s touch, but close to a battle cry. Her words weren’t meant to be vicious, almost like she raised her voice for the purpose of being seen.

A figure the size of Bucky’s wrist-to-palm ratio, lightly levitating above Hades’s shoulder and formed purely of water, emerged. She was graceful as water is graceful, with blue hair with white highlights. But her hair floated around her ears, behind her, like calm ocean waves. Her facial features were difficult to see from far away, but Bucky could clearly make out pretty silver eyes, a delicate nose, and plump lips. Her skin wasn’t skin, but water too. Blue—she’s completely blue. Her sheer dress left nothing to the imagination, so her body was completely visible. Nipples, toned stomach, even the slit between her legs. But modesty seemed nonexistent, especially for a creature as exquisite as her, so Bucky doesn’t dwell on it. He focused instead on her lithe movements, until she was fully visible and standing proudly on Hades’s shoulder.

Her feet might be Bucky’s favorite feature of hers—feet absent of toes, and instead arched and looped, like an elf’s boot.

A water sprite.

In Hell.

The water sprite continued, “They have cursed humans and Gods alike for too long!”

“How—” Sam said, raising his hands. “Is that our problem?”

“Do you take no responsibility?” Hades said through a grin.

“I would be more hospitable, man. You’ve just sucked us through the Portal of Hell, sending a goddamn lackey in your place. We aren’t in the mood for an interrogation.”

The absolute balls on Sam, Bucky thinks. To stare down the literal Devil with a steady voice.

Fuck.

“I’m not his lackey, ” Maxwell scoffed. “We figured you’d come willingly if you saw a friendly face.”

“The portal sucked us in and you looked like you were in pain,” Bucky heard you say before the water sprite hopped from Hades’s shoulder and to the arm of the throne. Her hair floated behind her, droplets falling but evaporating before it reached her feet.

Maxwell shrugged. “If I do not want to leave this realm, then it’s painful. I didn’t plan on staying so long on Earth.” His tone was near mocking.

“I am not a being who kidnaps.” Hades waved a bored hand through the air. “If you want to go, go.”

It’s a trick. They wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble and created a massive scene in a fucking Denny’s if it wasn’t serious. They were planning on keeping everyone in this realm for a while longer.

Bucky could hear you breathing through your nose. Your fingers clenched your sweater, then unclenched when you rolled your neck. Bucky had seen the excitement in your eyes tonight. A good meal, a walk around the nearby blocks, perhaps a trip into each other’s beds. That was promised. And now someone other than you and him have broken that promise, tarnished this night—the night you were both ready to move on fully. The first step of many.

Now, no one moves.

“Smart humans,” Hades clicked. He slowly sat back down, leaning backward until he mimicked slouching. “If you go, then the Fates are set loose forever. I do not know where they are. And since it was your fate—" He pointed at all three of you. “You will help me. If you do not, then they have abandoned their posts, leaving your realm in chaos for the foreseeable future. Even with the rip in the multiverse.”

“Do you exist in only our universe or all the others?” Sam asked.

“Only this one.”

“So, Greek mythology is…real?”

Hades chuckled. “In this universe, Norse and Greek are real. So are parts of other human religions. In other universes, I do not know.”

At this, Bucky pondered. It isn't like his Jewish faith is shaken—it's been rocky for a long time. Still, he can't help the feeling of loss.

The golden-haired woman stepped forward, looking to Hades before she spoke. He gave her a slight bow of the head. “The Fates have been terrorizing the Gods and humans alike for centuries. Fate is just a made up word for their fun. With them scattered, we cannot employ new Fates.”

Sam cleared his throat before saying, “It’s that easy? You can just replace people who have been doing this job for centuries?”

The woman snarled at being interrupted. Sam doesn’t verbally apologize, but he does avoid her glowing red eyes.

“They must die for us to search for new Fates—Better Immortals who will not use their gifts for sport.”

“Elva is right,” Hades agreed. “All of us in this room have been plagued by their games.”

“What. Games.” Your voice sent violent shivers down Bucky’s spine.

This means…Bucky understands what it means.

He understands, he understands—

“Sam Wilson,” Hades started. “From what I know, the Fates were ecstatic when you became the new Captain America. They chose that road for you. As they did with the Falcon.” Then, with a soft sigh, Hades’s expression actually conveyed pity when he said, “Riley was never supposed to make it.”

Sam’s lips thinned as he stared. And stared.

Then, “They killed Riley?”

A statement of deathly promise.

Hades gave a curt nod before continuing. “I hear they call you Shortcake. But you’re more than that…Aren’t you? Princess…Goddess.”

Bucky watched as your chest rose and fell. His hands ached for you, to count your heartbeats and match them with his.

“If they killed Riley,” Hades lamented, even if there was no personal grief behind his words. “Then I know you know what that means for you.”

Ari.

Your fists clenched and remained clenched, as did your eyes.

Bucky’s going to do it. One more blasted second and he’ll run up to you, hold you, carry you out of here to wherever he can. Every single time you experienced the pain of losing Ari all over again—every single time he experienced the pain of losing Steve—it hurt like fucking Hell.

“Hades,” you breathed, your voice dripping with hatred for the man or for the situation, Bucky didn't know. “Were they responsible for Bucky’s fall from the train?”

A pause, then a jut of his chin.

“His capture?”

Silence. The same jut.

“His torture? His shit luck? His time lost? Steve leaving him?”

A muscle in Hades’s jaw jumped as he confirmed, “All of it. And when you became mortal, that’s when their fun ended. Because they never intended for you two to be—”

“Hades!” the water sprite exclaimed, shaking her small head. “That is not what we discussed!”

Hades rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched in amusement. Bucky’s breath had stalled while you listed everything the Fates were responsible for.

About him. About his life. The life that was stolen from him. The time that was stolen from him.

Before he could voice it, however, you beat him to it.

“Then point me in the direction of the first Fate bitch.”

Elva is tasked with leading the three of you to your rooms. Three separate rooms, all in the same hallway, on the sixth level of the palace. You don’t trust yourself to complain about it—how the three of you would much rather share a room and not be separated so you could watch each other’s backs each passing second.

You don’t trust yourself to speak at all. If you did, your voice would have demanded these things and more. Demanded to know how to get back to your realm, to know how much time had passed, to be told every single detail about this palace. This prison for however long Hades decided to keep you here. Or at least, until you murdered the Three Fate bitches.

“This is yours,” Elva instructed Sam, not bothering to look behind her. You had half a mind to attack her from behind, to hold her down and rip those answers from her throat, but you refrained. And not because you were above violence, but because Elva didn’t deserve it.

“Does it lock from the inside or the outside?” Sam asked, running an unconcerned finger along the fine wood.

Elva released a noise that sounded like a snort, though her face was absent of humor. “The inside. You are not prisoners.”

“If we go, our realm is thrown into chaos that’s possibly worse than a multiverse intrusion. If we stay, we’re essentially reluctant guests,” Bucky explained. Most of his attention was focused to Elva’s dangling hands, but you could see he was mapping out the hallway’s twists and turns.

The idea that this was your fault ate away at you slowly. With each step to your assigned room, with every breath you took.

Ari had done a selfless, brave thing. You allowed mortality into your bloodstream. Sam took demon claws to the abdomen in order to save you. And this was how you’re repaid?

You returned a demon to Hell. You cured a group of Immortals who simply wanted to have a regular life without the exterior disasters of your passed-down bloodline. You reburied Ari to send his soul to a peaceful afterlife.

And by doing everything right, the Fates are pissed at you for it?

Elva pointed to another room a few doors down from Sam’s. “This is yours, Earthling.”

“I have a name.”

Elva turned around and angled her head slightly. “What would you like to be called?”

No one, not even Sam and Bucky, call you by your real name. On official documents, you’ve opted for a shortened version. Sam has only ever said that shortened version.

Your birth name died with Ari, with your people. Ari was the last person to ever utter it. Even Druig refrains from using it.

So you look Elva in her blood-red eyes, a tic in your jaw. “Earthling is fine.”

She smirked, and angled her head at Sam. “Then that makes you Birdling.”

“Did I say I wanted a nickname?”

Bucky snorted, scratching at his top lip as if that would mask the sound.

Elva smiled at him. Teeth straight and white, but the formation of such a bright smile was intimidating. “I quite like your name. Bucky.”

He involuntarily shivered beside you, and nodded quickly.

Elva turned around and continued down the hallway, pointing at the last door to the right as she announced, “And here’s your room…Buck— ”

“Thank you,” you said promptly, basically dismissing her. Elva does nothing but smile brightly again, obviously faked. With a quick whip around, she left you alone. Her stride was graceful, and with all the confidence of a soldier.

You had seen the chains masked as bracelets. You know Bucky did, too.

Keeping that quiet was bothering you, but it would be smarter to address it another time.

In the quiet, Bucky cleared his throat and suggested, “Should we scope out the rooms as one?”

Together, you swiped the rooms and mapped every anomaly—nicks in the paint, the strength of the mattresses, the sturdiness of the furniture and doors. One thing you all agreed on was that the rooms were grand, furnished for royalty.

Or Gods.

Gothic-themed and luckily clean, the rooms were obviously meant for esteemed guests. Sam pondered if Hades was simply trying to confuse you, to have you feel wanted and protected only to fuck you over tomorrow.

All three rooms were adorned with king-sized beds, blood-red sheets draped over them and bed posts carved with such intricate woodwork, you had to study them closely. On the two against the wall, great dragons looped around the strong wood and burst at the tip, mouths wide in a recorded battle cry. On the two near the end, elegant flames reached their arms to the high ceiling. The walls were painted red and black, Bucky’s differing only slightly with shades of blue and black instead. Rugs that depicted stories about demons, past Hades and Persephone’s, even Gods that had no beef with the Underworld. The rooms were packed with dressers, exquisite dark clothing practically spilling from the drawers and hangers. And the shoes…Even Sam whimpered a little bit.

But in your search, you found nothing amiss. Nothing that screamed bad bad bad besides being trapped here with an ultimatum. As Sam and Bucky complimented their surroundings, you held your breath.

Yes, everything was beautiful. Yes, you could probably sweet talk your way out of here. But the fact remained that half of you, screaming and kicking, wanted revenge.

Revenge that could taint your soul, as loss has frozen your heart.

The other half was entirely with Sam and Bucky, thinking about ways to escape. To gain alternate answers.

The rooms merged into one image in your mind, blurring at the sides and calling your name. Nothing seemed original and glorious anymore.

You had to lie down.

“Okay, so here’s what I think we should do,” Bucky began, instantly falling into Avenger mode. Numbers passing by his vision, plans ABC sprouting as quick as their former. “Gods need to sleep too, right? So we wait until the palace and all its inhabitants go down for the night—”

“There are no windows, dumbass. How will we tell it's night?” Sam deadpanned.

“We’ll assume Hell functions like Earth. If it was night for us, then Hell has got to be—”

Without a word, you slam the door to your assigned room closed, and relish the silence.

Power surged through your veins, but you quickly buried it. The tingling at your fingertips, the tension in your spine—all quieted, like the many times you’ve done it before. The same power that emerged in 1527, the same power in 1864.

Not here. Not again.

You couldn’t risk bringing down this palace with loved ones on the other side of the door. You couldn’t risk it at all.

Sam pursed his lips as he stared at the massive wooden door you had just slammed in his face. Silence spread throughout the dark hallway, lightened only by the shuffling of Bucky’s feet. Donning a stunned expression, Sam watched as Bucky blinked and then turned to him.

Sam motioned him farther down the hall, if only to give you the privacy you wanted. When they entered the room assigned to him, Sam closed the door before he sighed, almost dramatically, “So, what base did you get to before being ripped into Hell?”

Bucky growled, flashing Sam his metal middle finger before flopping face-first onto the surprisingly soft mattress.

“Tell me you at least got to first.”

Bucky grumbled into the sheets, his words unintelligible.

Sam nodded at nothing. He casted bored glances around the room, surveying even the smallest details all over again. It didn’t sit right with him that you were all separated and put onto a nearly abandoned floor. Sure, there were servants cleaning adjacent rooms and mumbling down the halls, but it was vacant nonetheless.

Later, he promised. Later he would venture out into the hallways and gain as much gossip as he could.

“I’ll scout the place later, then—”

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky demanded, moving onto his back.

Sam shook his head. “This dinner isn’t going to go smoothly. I can feel it. You stay here afterwards to see if Shortcake is alright.”

Bucky grumbled again, “You are not going alone.”

“She shouldn’t be left alone, Buck. Hades practically blamed all this on her. Guilt is eating at her. You know it.”

Bucky’s face contorted with pure sympathy. “Then we share the guilt. It’s not our fault, but we played a role nonetheless.” Then, Bucky paused, shooting Sam a good-natured glare. “Do not leave your room at night without me or her.”

Sam forced a neutral expression as he lied, “Okay. I won’t.”

If the throne room was grand, then the dining hall was extraordinary. A place for royalty. Fucking Beauty and the Beast ass shit, Sam marveled.

He has eaten in the wondrous fields and dining halls of Wakanda, thinking nothing could possibly top it.

But this.

Sam had to remind himself he was in another realm, and perhaps his eyes saw things as extra. His human eyes.

He was the only human without enhanced abilities here.

He was fully human, and in Hell.

“Glad you three can make it.”

Hades stunned in a black-on-black suit, nonchalant in his chair and already chewing a piece of cured meat. The water sprite sat at the corner near him, delighting in fruit herself. Where the food went, Sam didn’t know. He could vaguely see the food pass through her throat and downwards, but that was it.

Sam looked at the two people beside him. At Bucky, who had changed nothing of his appearance but removing his gloves. And his Shortcake, who had thrown a shimmering black sweater on instead of keeping the old one. With the sweater, your stone face with a heavy frown, Sam would have guessed the Underworld was a second home to you.

“You want us to eat food down here?” you chuckle, humor lacking. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

Hades paused chewing, his smile growing and stretching as he laughed for real. “That stingy little trick was abolished centuries ago. I couldn’t entertain and have that trick hanging over everyone’s heads, could I?”

Sam’s high school knowledge clicked then.

Persephone and the pomegranate. But Sam sees no women besides the golden-haired beauty and the water sprite. No other woman who could pass for Persephone—not the servants, not the short–time visitors he saw sneaking in through the kitchens. No one.

“Swear it on your Immortal life that if we eat your food, we are not trapped here.”

Hades rolled his eyes but promised, “The food is not enchanted. I can even send a messenger to pick-up human food and bring it back.”

So it is possible to realm hop, just as Maxwell described. Where the green-eyed sonofabitch was hiding, Sam couldn’t tell.

Bucky stepped forward, surveying the grand table and every platter before it. Meats, potatoes, soups, vegetables and fruit, desserts. Every plate had its own burner, its own section.

A literal meal for royalty.

Bucky picked up an apple, throwing it in the air as he said, “We won’t help you if we don’t get something in return.”

Hades smirked. “Besides free range of my palace, my training facilities, my expertise, and my food?” Bucky was better at scowls, so Sam let him give Hades his best one. “I see. Right to the point.”

Sam asked, “What do we get out of this?”

“Besides revenge?”

“Something more.”

Hades quieted for a moment. He glanced at Elva, then to the water sprite beside him, who was munching her cured meat happily. “What do you want?”

Sam thought hard about it. To bargain with the Devil…His Christian mother must be turning over in her grave. Or rolling in the river just outside the palace walls. Sam shook the thought from his head.

So he kept it simple, stopping himself from asking for too much, too fast. “I want revenge, of course. But I want to be able to send my family a message that I’m alright.”

Hades hummed. “A letter system—Got it. Anything else?”

“I want to kill the bitch responsible for what I went through,” Bucky declared, then took his first bite of the red apple. You flinched beside him, your hands clenched into fists, as if ready to knock the fruit from his hands. But as Bucky chewed, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. He swallowed, waited a second, like his mind was wired to yours, and bit into it again.

“That would be Clotho, then. That can be arranged.” Hades turned to you, something devilish flashing in his dark blue eyes. “You?”

You paused, your jaw ticking. “Lachesis is the one who measured Ari’s life?”

Hades threw a grape into the air, ignoring the soft but irked pats from the water sprite, no doubt chastising him for being so careless in a conversation like this. Hades caught the grape in his mouth. “She is the one.”

“The one who measured my life?”

“The very one.”

Sam marked the way you huffed and finally pulled out a seat, four seats away from the God of the Dead himself. “Then I will kill her if you give me my choice back.”

“A cure for magical infertility,” Hades pondered, even if it wasn’t a question. Sam speculated the ways the God could have possibly known that, but that was just it—the God. “You have free use of my library. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“That simple?”

Hades gave a tilt of the head. “Did you expect a fight?”

“The God of the Underworld kidnaps us and there isn’t one? Seems a little suspicious to me,” Bucky snorted, reaching over to fill his plate. All the while being heavily scrutinized by the golden warrior studying him. Or…maybe what shone in Elva’s eyes was restrained amusement.

Bucky placed his plate down gently on the placemat made entirely from what looked like real gold, and took the seat beside you. Then pushed his plate gently between the two of you, offering to share.

Hades grunted, lifting his wine glass to his lips. “Those crones have pissed me off for centuries.”

Sam, the last one to relent and sit at the grand table, suggested,“Why not kill them yourself?”

Another eye roll from the great God. “I cannot kill my own Fates. And anyone cursed by them cannot kill them either.”

Sam turned his head in time to see Elva sneer and look down at her feet. It bothered him greatly that she was not given a plate, let alone a seat. Just left standing, her hand on the hilt of her silver sword, watching.

“Is Shortcake not cursed?” Sam asked.

Hades shook his head. “Her grandmother cursed her. The Fates simply found it reasonable and let it slide.”

“My grandmother. The Elementalist who could summon the dead. How does that make sense—her making me live.”

Shrugging, Hades took a long sip from his glass. “Immortality brought about a lot of death for you, didn’t it?”

Bucky grimaced, lifting his own wine glass. Sam was thankful as he changed the subject. “Where’s crone number one?”

“Clotho is our spinner. She spins the thread of human fate, and decides where you go from there. I’d say she’s hiding out on the icy plains of Cocytus.”

“There’s ice in Hell?” Sam asked. He risked taking a bite of the bread, noticing how you still hadn’t eaten a single thing.

Hades narrowed his eyes in response. “And trees, if you’re curious.”

To that, you lifted your head to him. “Where?”

Hades grinned, knowing he struck the correct cord. “My gardens are also free range.”

For a long minute, no one spoke. The water sprite chewed her food happily, smiling up at Hades as he smiled down at her. Sam watched every exchange—when Bucky buttered a piece of bread and handed it to you, mumbling that if he was destined to be stuck down here why not get you trapped here as well, which earned him a soft chuckle.

Sam also noticed the golden warrior studying him, her own grand posture causing him to straighten.

“I did not mean to trap you three in my world,” Hades muttered. “But I saw how you handled the demon. How you dealt with Maxwell, that insufferable idiot. Even Wenrel here was mad at him, and she’s never mad at him.”

At that, the water sprite hid her small face in her transparent hands.

“I am at a loss. The only Gods who will aid me in this are Hermes and Hecate. But they are Gods, their power only stretching so far when it comes to the Fates.”

“These literal Gods aren’t fighters?” you deadpanned.

Hades shook his head. “You don’t have to be a fighter to be a God and you don’t have to be a God to be a fighter.”

“We barely held down a demon,” Sam explained. “You expect us to hold the Moirai?”

“I think you three expect so little of what you can actually do.”

“Do not speak like the Crones, Hades,” Elva ordered. Sam braced himself for the God’s reprimand, for his hand to swing backward and strike her—anything that gave Sam a reason to leap over this table and twist his neck. But Hades did nothing of the sort. He regarded the warrior with a gentle smirk and a wave of his hand. A friendly wave, one contradicting the chains around her wrists and the seriousness of her face.

“Elva will also offer her sword. And teach you three how to wield your own.”

“So a bullet won’t do?” Bucky joked, swishing his wine around.

“Mortal instruments are not key here, Soldier. As with demons, we kill our own with our own,” Elva clarified.

No nickname for Bucky, my ass.

“And you’ll have the aid of Maxwell, Wenrel, and myself. Don’t you worry.” Hades mocked a bow the best he could sitting down.

This was all too crazy. Sam remembers the stories Steve shared that one week of calm after bringing everyone back—of how he visited space, another planet. Sam had joked that Steve had finally seen the whole world. That nothing could possibly live up to the bright colors of space jumping.

But here Sam was, trapped yet welcomed in the realm of middle school curiosity. Of mythology kids picked up for a few months, reveled in, then moved on from. In a realm of fantasy, even if his life proved anything but.

Thor is a Norse God. Loki, too. Sam shouldn’t be surprised he’s had a run-in with yet another God. Except this one needs his help.

Sam isn’t big on ego, but this is boosting his a Hell of a lot. Pun intended.

“For now,” Hades stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Get some rest. You wake early tomorrow.”

A knock on the door stirred you from your thoughts. You’ve been seated on the red velvet chair, looking at yourself in the mirror for however long it took to make your back strain. In Tenochtitlan, you had your own in your sitting room. One where your maids brushed your hair and adorned you with jewels. Then another during your limited stay at Versailles, but the glass wasn’t as impressive. The jewels were, however. This one, with its fine metal work and reflection dusted in glitter, outranked them all.

Brushing through your hair, you cleared your throat. “Come in.”

Bucky entered, smiling shyly. He came to sit beside you, his scooting narrowly throwing you off the chair itself until he gripped your hips and placed you on his lap. You were nearer his knee, but the sensation was all the same. With a small gasp, you met his eyes in the mirror. Eyes that glimmered with the knowledge of what emotions he just caused.

Stealing one silk hair-tie from the beautiful, onyx bowl beside all the perfumes, Bucky moved to tie his hair back. A tight bun, but one that failed to catch the tendrils of hair in the front from falling forward and framing his face.

“I don’t know how to start apologizing,” you began, but Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Then don’t.”

You sighed, “This is all kinds of fucked up.”

“Are you worried he’s lying?”

You shrugged, sighing again when Bucky’s hands came up to run smoothly over your shoulders and back down. Over and over. “He mentioned other Gods. And yet, the myths aren’t real.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows scrunching.

“Where the fuck is Persephone? If Hermes and Hecate are real, if the myth of the pomegranate is real, then where is she?”

Bucky grumbled, “Don’t even, for one second, think that you are Persephone.”

“My power involves life.”

“Yeah, and your literal soulmate was a human. If your fate was to be the Goddess of Spring, why did the Fates fuck with you at all?”

Bucky made a valid point. You know you’re an Elementalist—a being able to control one or many natural elements in the world, even those not classified as such. You know you’re a Mutant—a being born with a genetic mutation that was the sole reason for such power, hunted by demons themselves. You know you’re Mother Nature—yet another myth who’s sole purpose was to shape the Earth.

But Hades did call you a God. And Thor did compare you to other Gods who wielded similar power. Being the Goddess of Spring would be the cherry on top—but you’ve never quite liked cherries.

“I can’t produce offspring so we know I’m not Demeter, either.”

Bucky shuddered, and your laugh vibrated from your back into his chest. “Don’t—” Bucky laughed. “Don’t even suggest that.”

Your laugh only grew. You turned your face to him, your lips only centimeters apart. “What if I’m just not a Greek God?”

Bucky glanced down at the small space, his breath hitching the slightest bit. “That would make sense. You’re not Greek.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked down at Bucky’s lips as well. Such perfect, pink miracles.

Six months. You’ve deprived yourself of Bucky’s taste for six months. For good reason, for a healthy and valid reason, but still. Now those sugar-spun lips were parting, and his hot breath mingled with yours, and your room wasn’t even that close to Sam’s—

A splash of water sounded from the door, slapping against the floor rapidly.

“Oh! Almost there, almost there—and!—Whoo!”

Wenrel, the water sprite, had shimmied her way underneath the crack of the door. Both you and Bucky turned, wide-eyed and confused.

Wenrel stood, all six inches of her, and placed her hands on her hips. Her glittering dress moved in the same direction as her hair, floating and curling. “The handsome one was not in his room so I decided to check in here.”

Bucky blushed, his lips twitching with the threat of a smile. “Uh, yeah. I’m in here.”

Wenrel skipped and shortened the distance between you, hopping onto a nearby chair, then leaped and pulled herself onto the dresser. There she sat on the overturned brush you were just using, crossing her legs as she leaned back on her hands, and smiled.

“I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the handsome one.”

Your grin widened. “Sam?”

“Ouch?” Bucky feigned offense.

Wenrel giggled. “Sam…the handsome one! You are the gorgeous one, Soldier.”

Bucky smiled truly now. “That’s better.”

“Wait,” you paused, blinking. “Sam isn’t in his room?”

Wenrel shook her head, and as she did small droplets of water sprung free and evaporated mid-air. “He went exploring, it seems.”

Bucky scoffed, already moving you off his lap so he could stand. “Mr. ‘I’m afraid of ghosts’, went exploring?”

“Probably for entrances and exits,” Wenrel divulged, her tone similar to those telling ghost stories. She giggled again as she witnessed Bucky puffing his chest. You blinked down at her, cocking an eyebrow. She giggled at you, too.

“Only entrance and exit he’s about to know is my foot entering his ass and exiting his mouth.”

With that, Bucky unhooked the gun from the back of his belt and removed the safety. You didn’t even know he had it on him.

“C’mon, Goddess,” Bucky urged, throwing open the bedroom door. The nickname wasn’t out of spite or jokes. Bucky said it like he had all the others—with the absolute intention of making your knees weak. Wenrel hopped onto your shoulder and made herself at home.

“We’ve got birdling to catch.”

TAGLIST: @fandoms-writings @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @natbarnes1917 @howlermonkey69

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #dreaming in june sequel #hunting the fates series #hunting the fates #sam wilson x original female character #captainsimagines #by Moni

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guksauce · 2 years

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Hiiii, I see that your still taking requests can i get a drabble /one shot of dom!Jk coming home from tour and being extremely eager to have “i missed you sex” since y/n has been teasing while he was away lol. smut and fluff i guess. Btw i love your blog and hope you are taking care of yourself 💜💜💜💜

♡OML HELLO LOML♡

♡- First I just want to say, thank you so much! It means everything to me that you’ve stuck around for my lack of posts and updates on any of the things I’ve promised to write haha I appreciate the love you continue to give, and I hope to keep making this a space where you can stay with no worries!

♡- Second: If I’m being quite honest, I’ve never written true smut before so forgive me if this stayed a little on the fluff side even when I felt like I was getting down and dirty haha It’s simple and straight forward I feel like, but I hope this is still what you wanted, Anon, even if it isn’t perfect. IM ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK ME 885583838 YEARS TO WRITE. I wanted to make sure I did it right and tastefully. I appreciate your patience!

————————

♡ Pairing: Dom!JJK x Y/n Oneshot

♡ Rating: R/NSFW

♡ Warnings: Lowkey Smut, JK being lustfully aggressive with his babe, tiny Bam cameo 👀.

♡ Word Count: (1,973)

♡ Author: @guksauce

—Don’t Say a Word—

♡ You can feel him. You can hear the gush of your own blood in your ears with every second that passes between your thoughts of him. Too many cups of coffee had passed without him. Too many walks along the river without him. Far, far too many nights in the bed you should be sharing together without him; all of them excruciating absences. So, if that door doesn't swing open in the next five minutes, you’re /going/ to explode. Even when he is home you can’t even let him be at practice for any more than a couple of hours before you go crazy missing him. Loving your best friend and being able to enjoy their company the way you enjoy his, it’s irreplaceable. And almost against your will, you find yourself becoming a stranger to yourself because you realize you don't know who you are without them. Imagine losing your epic love to a 4 month long tour.

There’s a lot that you could say about Jeon Jungkook. About his demeanor. His passion. His talents. His looks. God, don't even get you started on those looks. The ones that make your jaw drop painfully to the floor the moment they walk into anywhere ever? Yup. The ones that make you re-envision the Prince that comes to save you from your tower? Mhmm. The ones that, even though you're sure the ground beneath your feet is level and sturdy, it still shakes violently beneath you when you catch that first glimpse? Yeah, you know the ones. /Those/ looks.

Ugh, and his passions. His passions are simple. Profound but so humble. All of it drizzled in a sparkling glaze of love. In his own personal way, Love oozed out of him and laced together with every aspect of his life. His fans, his music. But especially when it comes to you.

Night after night passed, but never without a facetime. Every chance you could get, you’d make it your life's work to do anything to melt away his stresses of the day. You’d spam his phone every day with photos of you going about your daily activities and he’d make fun of how strands of your hair were in places he’d usually move them away from. You’d send him videos of Bam and yourself showing the other dogs at the park how it's done and Jungkook would all but cry telling you how much he missed you both. But on days like today, you'd adorn yourself in silken gifts and strings of diamonds and pearls he’d given you over the years, and delicately drape yourself onto the plush cushions of the couch. Your hands would find the places you knew he couldn't resist and send them to him in snapshots of lustful movements.

Videos you knew would make him twitch painfully in his jeans came in waves during the long months. But when it was time for him to come home, that's when his own videos would fly in. For all the teasing you’d done during his absence, you knew you were in BIG trouble when he'd get frustrated and promise you that he was going to “break my little slut in half when I get home.”

And so, you wait impatiently in your home. Nervously. You watched the hands on the clock hanging in the hallway with pleasurably terrified eyes tik monotonously in a circle. Another ping sounded on your phone, signifying a text that read “Don’t move a fucking muscle, pretty baby. I’m pulling in now.”

‘Slam!’ Your whole body jumps, a skittering of goosebumps prickling every inch of your skin as the door of his car shuts. The blood still gushing through your system drowns you and dots begin to cloud your vision. You want to smile but you’re almost afraid of what he’ll say if he sees it. You can hear him in your mind saying “As if you think you’re going to get away with this.”. His footsteps approach and his fingers force the door open and-

“Get up. Turn around. And don’t say a word.” Oh, fuck. In all of his glory, he stands stoic and mountainous as his bags fall around him to the floor and the door slams behind him. He might as well be glowing; a power radiating from the core of his soul with a force so potent it snaps you back to reality. His eyes are sharp and so deeply darkened, the absolute need pooled in the pitch black abyss of his irises. And then your King stalks towards you as you rise to your feet, ready to demolish your entire being.

“Baby, I-” In your mind you beg anyone who might be listening to please just let you tell Jungkook how much you love him in a way that seems good enough because you just can't seem to find words worthy of the meaning it holds. But he’s there already, jet black boots pounding the ground in his last steps, and you haven't turned around yet. Fingers find your throat as he spins your body away from him, turning the words about to spill from your lips into gargled moans.

“Didn’t I just say to turn around and not say a word? Hm?” He whispers in your ear, breath hot against the apple of your cheek as he bites at the flesh just under your diamond studded ear. His free hand dips and rises in and out of the winding curves of your body. The touch, albeit smooth and loving, sizzles your skin as he drags it down to the inside of your thigh and hooks his thumb into the hem of your black lace underwear, taking them with it. Its everything you can do not to just let everything go and lose yourself to an endless stream of pleasure filled cries. Every single miniscule detail of what he does coaxes out another gargled whimper, another knee buckling shiver down your spine.

“Mmm. Yes, sir.” You mumble out through his hold on your neck. He’s quick to reward you with a small bite to the curve of your neck where it meets your shoulder. Goosebumps dance quickly along every inch of your body as he sings a song into your skin that only your body knows. Fingers are everywhere; cupping your ass and snaking under your already disheveled shirt and god is it hard to breathe in here.

“That’s my baby.” Jungkook whispers and steals your hands from the home they’d made in his hair and grips both of your wrists in his one caring hand behind your back. The other spins you away from him and he can’t help but stop and admire the way your chest rises and falls for him, how your breath trembles and spills out from your lips, all of you excitedly and patiently awaiting him both to come home and to make you feel alive. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, my love.” You reply without a single beat of hesitation and the growl that rumbles throughout his body and erupts darkly from his throat forces a pitiful moan and your knees to buckle underneath you. Soon your cotton shirt is pulled high over your chest as he walks you both to the kitchen, Jungkooks loving bites taking on a pain that rewards him the sound of your soft mews as he bends you over the dining table, shoving plates and delicately folded napkins into the chairs.

You’re positive he’s about to split you when he runs the tips of his fingers down your spine making you struggle against the grip still tight around your wrists. That is, until he pauses, spotting a dark area forming on your bottoms. He drops to his knees, hands shaping the roundness of your cute little ass before hooking his fingers in the belt loops pulling them down where they pool around your ankles. And there he finds the mess you’ve created. With his free hand, Jungkook smacks the thickness of your ass and catches it in his grasp, giving it a good wiggle. You’re frothy; dripping your thick slick down between your thighs as he peels away your underwear. He leans closer, running the flat of his tongue over your hot core, collecting every drop of your sugary pleasure. A gasp consumes you, all four months without him making your body quiver, a string of soft obscenities flying from your mouth as you try to grind against the warmth of his tongue.

“Ah, ah, ah. You know better than that, baby.” Now you’ve done it, y/n. With one fell swoop, he spanks hard as your ass, the skin glowing red under his hand as he lines himself up with your hole, hard and already leaking.

“FUCK!” You moan out as he pushes every inch of his mass inside you with no warning or time to adjust to his size until he pulls all the way out, your hole oozing and clenching as he tangles a hand in your hair and pulls. He wastes no time slipping himself back into you with an unrelenting force that almost makes you both chuckle as the table moves an inch across the floor. But this time he doesn’t stop, smashing into you with four months worth of energy and it’s everything you can do not to just scream.

“Tell me how it feels, pretty baby.” He huffs out, drowning in love with the way you bounce yourself right back into him, eager to get every last inch, on the precipice of begging for more.

“You fuck me so good. No one loves me more than you, better than you!” You whimper out between his thrusts. He pauses, hearing your words, and releases your wrists, finding your neck instead, where he curls his fingers around your throat and lifts you up to stand. Inside you, his mass throbs in time with your heartbeat, unsteady and fast. You reach back to drag a longing touch over his hip and it changes his whole demeanor.

Pulling out of you, Jungkook let’s you rest for a moment as he turns you back to him. His eyes trace the features of your face as if he’s seeing them for the first time all over again, and with a feather light touch, presses his lips to yours and kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. It’s slow and precise and you can’t help but step closer and loop your arms around his neck. Scooping you up in his arms, he walks you to the wall and adjusts you until your thighs rest in his arms. Kisses shower your chest, your neck, your lips as he slips himself back into you, the pressure so intense that your kisses break, the delicacy of kisses impossible to focus on when you’re both so close it hurts. His pace stays agonizingly slow. Long, perfect strokes that make his eyes droop in an angelic way makes you clench around him tight enough to elicit a low groan from the very depth of his soul as he rests his head against your chest. You curl your hands in his hair, peppering soft kisses to the top of his head between rhythmic moans.

You can’t take it anymore regardless of how much you never want it to end. You’re going to burst, literally. You can feel yourself giving way around him, dripping your frothy juices onto the floor beneath you. Jungkooks panting now, legs quivering and the muscles in his arms tightening as he whispers a gentle “I love you” into what little space there was between you.

“I love you too.” You promised as you both released, both shaking messes as he thrust 3 last, hard pumps of his love inside you, filling you to the brim.

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