#and if you try to make this about religion im tearing your fucking throat out with my bare hands

[ruthlesslistener]

The most disgusting fucking thing that zionists keep circling in response to palestinian suffering and people crying for an end to a genocide is the fucking cries about the thousand killed on october 7th

I don't care how many settlers died. I don't care. I don't care because 1,000 dead does not ever equate to 100,000 murdered and lost. It doesn't equate to all the horrendous suffering and the torture that Israel inflicts on innocents. It doesn't equate because human lives are not a fucking math equation and yet it becomes extremely fucking apparent that to these people it is because they view palestinian lives as so much lesser than those of the settlers that thousands of them cannot pay back the life of one colonizer

'Civilians shouldn't be killed' is the most neutral thing that can be said about a war and is IMPLICIT to saying that the Hamas attack on october 7th was poorly planned. But when israeli civilians are actively participating in the genocide of people they already were tormenting then it becomes really fucking hard to think of the people killed as innocents, and when they are being used as the justification to set military dogs on 4 year olds and to selectively target and destroy safe havens and ignore peace treaties then it is altogether. I dont care that nearly two thousand filthy fucking colonizers died because there is NO justification for the river of blood spilled in retribution, nor the painting of a race of people as terrorists despite only a scant handful of them being willing to bloody their hands in retribution for decades of torment

#vent #im seeing red #blood needs to be spilled. this is a toll that cannot go unpunished #i want every israeli leader and every government official to be burned alive and have their bodies thrown in the sewers #and if you try to make this about religion im tearing your fucking throat out with my bare hands #how DARE you insinute that judaism calls for this. how dare you view this as anything but a sullying of a holy book and a holy people #this isn't about religion. this is about conquest. this is about the rape of a land and the slaughter of its people #i want them dead and i want their bones to nourish the land #so that at least some part of their sick lives dont go to waste when palestine is returned #and i want the civilians of israel to be renamed as palastinian immigrants and forced to live with the ramifications of what theyve done #by god i dont know how they can even consider themselves as human anymore when the state washed it so thorougly from them

[prettyboykatsuki]

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into it | k. bakugou 

➳ tags ;; smut, praise kink (so much praise kink),d/s undertones, dumbification fem!reader, unprotected, mild dacryphilia (what else do we expect lol), pro-hero!katsuki

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ a/n ;; my period came n it’s My Day so im posting this. sorry if i’m a little rusty! i haven’t written any nsfw since like? march.

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He know he’s spoiled you rotten. 

He knows this fact better than anyone else in the entire world. It didn’t matter how obvious it was to others, he knew it and he knew it well. The way Bakugou Katsuki finds himself stuck by your side leaves him with more questions and answers. He’s developed quite the habit of listening to your every word, clinging off your little attention and praise like it was more important than anything else. 

In a way, it was. That feeling he gets in his stomach, the pride in his chest when you bat long lashes at him and say “katsuki” the way only you ever could. You’ve got a grip on his being like nothing else. The world could be falling apart but he knows in his head he would be worrying about his baby. 

He knows he’s in love and he’s strong enough to admit it. But there’s a difference between being in loved and being whipped beyond belief or comparison. He’s indefinitely the latter.

He’s whipped out of his fucking mind. It’s ridiculous and gets more ridiculous as the days pass. The way he pours so much energy into leaving you spoiled and sated. He was always the asshole, the tough guy - but these days he questions himself for just how soft he’s gone. 

For you and only you. If anyone else had half the attitude you had with him, he’d probably rock their shit. With you, he merely sighs - grabs your face with strong hands and goes “why you bein so bratty huh?” until you’re confessing all your sins to him. It’s a religion of sorts, practice of worship. If you’re an altar, Katsuki feels like follower. Disobedience to your desires has always felt like sacrilege. 

Bakugou knows he spoils you too much. You’re not much for material but when it comes to time and attention, he’s always making room for you. Sits you in his lap while he works as long as you behave (lets you stay even if you don’t). Comes home to you. Doesn’t go out unless he’s sure you won’t be lonely. 

You didn’t particularly ask for any of it. You’re eager to let him be, but him? He seethes at the idea you’re getting your daily dose of love from anyone else. Turn his blood hot under his skin, makes his mind feel like it can’t sit still. 

So you’re spoiled rotten whether you like it or not. Bakugou would be damned if anyone came near you with the intentions of what he always intends too. 

You’re spoiled, to put it plainly. But Bakugou can’t say he hates it, no matter how much he tries 

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“Such a spoiled fuckin’ brat, huh?,” 

You shake your head, but your voice trembles in your throat when you try to reply. With the way Bakugos got your legs pinned, a hand resting on your navel with two fingers in your cunt, it’s hard to think at all. You squirm out of his reach, away from him. Everything in your body feels like it’s trembling and the pressure in your body has you dizzy and aching. 

Your clit is swollen from what feels like hours of stimulation. His mouth latches onto the swollen nerves, and goes and goes - matches the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of you. Every movement makes you twitch - an aching fever in your core. It’s almost painful - completely overwhelming. Bakugous determination leaves little room for error. 

“Ngh, I don’t ― aah, don’t mean to be” 

He chuckles a little at that. You can feel it reverberate against your body. When your eyes flutter open to see him between your legs, you’re sure you’re gonna cum again right away. Bakugou fucks you open with two fingers then three - stretches you out till your nice and soft. It makes you feel gooey, cum and saliva pooling onto once stain-less sheets. 

“Katsuki, ‘s enough, please - enough,” 

“Not enough baby,” he bites your thigh with sharp canines, red eyes boring into yours “Gotta be a good girl ‘n give one more. Spoiled fuckin’ brats gonna take all of it, aint she?” 

You let out something half-way between a whine and a whimper. The muscles in your thighs ache from holding still so long - from shaking. Your eyes roll up till there’s only white. Fuck you’re cumming again. How many times is it now? You can’t remember. 

It aches. Your cunt like a play-thing against the wet muscle, thick fingers that stretch you much wider than you thought possible before. He gives and gives and gives - and you take like the spoiled and greedy brat you are. When he ruins your pretty pussy into stuttered, breathless and raggedy orgasm - you take it all so greedily. 

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cream on my fingers, princess,” and he grunts, uses his free hand to jerk his cock. It’s stiff enough to hurt, the ache in his balls unbearable. But he’s gotta get you nice and sloppy - he likes to give it to you all in one go after all. 

Your brain feels like it’s melting, mouth dropped own and drooling. Katsuki is always so mean  but not with you. With you, he’s whispering sweet nothings into your sweaty skin and biting claim into the flesh. You let him melt you into whatever shape he likes with the promise he’ll hold you through it. 

“Gone and fucked you real stupid, huh?” 

There’s an unmistakable affection in his words that makes you screw your eyes tight enough it hurts. Tears prick your lashes as another orgasm rips through - shreds you to pieces. 

“Katsuki” 

You hold your arms out for him, needing to cling - and he lets you like he always does. You kiss him desperately, tongue searching for desperate reprieve as he drags sticky fingers up to your mouth. You can feel his cock slide between your folds, heady heavy and throbbing against your clit. 

It’s so, so hot. It’s molten, your brain and stomach turned to complete fucking mush. You whine again - loud into his mouth. 

“Clean ‘em good or you’re not getting my cock”

You nod dumbly. His fingers slide down your throat, touch your tongue and stretches your mouth out. 

“Haah,” he chuckles against your throat “So fuckin’ messy, huh? Your mouth and your pretty little pussy are so fuckin’ soaked for me, aint they?” 

“Yeah, yeah - ‘s f’r you” 

“All for me?” 

You nod with his fingers in your mouth, smiling like you’ve won the fucking lottery as you look him in the eyes. So obedient and pretty and good. His dick aches. 

“Mhm” 

He has you pinned so easily underneath, grunting as your knees are brought to your ears. You yelp as he bends over you, sliding his cock against your clit - fucking right between as he looks at your desperate face. Your eyes gone hazy as you watch his cock almost catch on your hole but never quite hitting. 

“’tsuki, hngh - please”

You’re distraught. So fucking spoiled - you’re in delirium begging for his dick. You need him so bad you don’t know anything other than digging your nails into his biceps and begging over and over and over. 

“Fuck  ― fuckin’ take this dick baby, shit” 

Your brain turns to static when you feel him fill you up in one fluid motion. Katsuki is thicker than he’s big, stretches you so good you scream silently. Strong hips that make you ricochet right into the bed with each thrust, you can feel yourself cream over him. It’s humiliating. 

He rolls your clit between his thumb and forefinger as he pistons you. Your body jerks so violently you almost lose hold - but Bakugou placates you with a tongue in your mouth. Kisses you messy with teeth and tongue - so salacious it has your cunt fluttering. His muscular body pins you to the bed, leaves you helpless and open wide for him to take.

 Bakugou’s spoiled you so he knows how you need, knows how to make you cum even when you’re so fucked out you can’t feel the air in your lungs. 

He french kisses you because he knows that’s how you like it - his spoiled, obsessive angel that can’t quite get enough of him. He knows just how your mouth likes to be occupied, knows just what nerves to hit. 

“C-Cumming!” 

Bakugou drops his forehead on your shoulder, mouth enveloping yours. He doesn’t say anything but his fingers grip into the fat of your thigh. You can feel him in your stomach, in your cevix 

Bakugou cums in you hot and heavy and thick. He groans into your mouth - jaw tense and brows taught when he fucks his load into until it’s all mixed together. 

His eyes open to check on you, his baby. Your eyes are red and puffy with tears - but you’re smiling lazily. Scheming. He squints

“What the fuck is it, brat?”

“.. You’re only gonna give me one?” 

Goddamn it. 

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#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagines #bakugou imagine #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha imagines #spice cake

[luvsicksubs]

mercy - levi ackerman

cw: sub!levi, femdom!reader, dacryphilia, spitting, unprotected sex, edging + overstimulation (m. recieving), oral (m. recieving), degradation, a little bit of aftercare, riding, restraints, levi calls you miss 

wc: 2.7k 

a/n: im literally in love with him goodbye everyone. 

Retribution is normally in your bedroom.

A habitual creature at heart and core leaves him stumbling to your quarters in the middle of the night. It’s late - when the rest of his soldiers have fallen into a deep sleep and the entire hallway echoes when he steps. A single flickering candle rests in his palm but he could make it to your bedroom with his eyes closed.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he makes it to your door. His heart is hammering in his chest, hand trembling as he closes his palm into a fist and knocks. Always three times, precisely before he waits, taking a sharp inhale to ease the nerves he attempts to push aside. His eyes flutter when he hears you undo the heavy lock on your chamber doors, pushing it open with a faux surprise when you see Levi.

His skin is warm. He’s sure it’s unlikely that his expression is a proper match for how he feels, eyebrows stitched together fitfully. Still, you don’t falter. You greet him with an exceptionally warm smile, eyes full of mirth. He knows you’re not surprised, but you make a game of playing pretend. Levi is half-way between a scowl when he looks at you, never mind his pounding heart.

“Oh? Captain - what are you doing here so late?,” you ask, bemused. Levi considers temporarily turning on his heel and leaving. His frown deepens but it doesn’t seem to discourage your antics and Levi figures that you’ve never really been deterred by him anyways.

You smile wistfully, challenging - damn, you’re going to make him say it aren’t you? Levi misses you too urgently to come up with anything half-way solid and sarcastic. Even his pride, normally stubborn, proves to be wholly worthless today.It’s always that way with you. 

“To see you,” he replies, scrunching his brow together. You take the candle from his hand, noting the way the wax drips down the sides as you place it on the wooden desk in your study. With the lights dim down like this it makes it hard to see, but your hands are familiar. The brush against the shaved sides of Levis hair as you cradle his face in your palm.

“To see me? Aren’t I awful lucky?,” you quip. Your thumb smooths along his cheek bone, and even in the darkness of the hallway - Levi can see light in your eyes. You make everything feel easy and in turn make Levi frustrated. He couldn’t explain it himself. Rather, he places a soft hand on your wrist and closes the gap between you. He can taste your amusement on your lips, the small noise of surprise when he kisses you. Something akin to need flares up in his chest.

He’s just as surprise as you are when he pulls away, inevitably. Your smile is stretched so wide your cheeks sting as Levi sighs.

“Would you let me in already?,”

You grin, stepping aside and letting Levi into your bedroom before locking the door. For all the things Levi is capable of, subtlety isn’t one. He sits on the corner of your bed with his arms  folded in his lap - eyes heavy on your figure. You smile at him.

“Something you want, Captain?,” you hum. Levi says something in his head, a furious blush creeping down his neck as he watches you approach him. Like a cat, or a viper - more like. He spreads his legs for you place your knee between them. You curl your knuckle and drag it along his sharp jawbone, stopping underneath his chin before tilting his expression up towards you. Levi breathes a sigh of relief. 

Levi has never understood religion at its core. The only religion Levi Ackerman has ever understood had been full to the brim with corruption.  

Yet, when Levi is at your waist with his eyes held high, you are something of a deity. A religious altar. There is relief in your all-knowing stature, endless wisdom of all Levis sins. Levi has nothing to hide from you, your gentle prying eyes and loving gaze. Between your legs is an appropriate place of worship. He stares at you, brow hardened until your thumb brushes his lips and he opens his mouth. You smile when he takes you in, tongue soft against the pad of your thumb - there’s something like approval swimming in the sharpness of your expression. 

For Levi, your touch is indeed dominion. An unworthy worshiper who’s  to please the lord that reigns above him, protects him from whatever evil, and loves him wholly. If that is what God is meant to be, then Levi can understand it. 

Dominion. Divinity. God. You. These things are all the same to Levi. Truth awaits him in your quarters, with your dress pants tugged past your thighs and your leg hiked over the bed. The first step to retribution is honesty, Levi figures. 

The words are still hard to get out, but you’re patient. Your thumb presses down on the tip of his tongue, eye brows quirked. Amused. 

“Well? What is it, boy? Is there something you’d like to do?,” 

Your knee presses against the stiff outline in his pants. A choked gasp leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he nods. 

“Yes,” 

“What would that be?,” 

Levi chokes as he feels your knee lift up, grind against the cloth. The contact is so barely there but his body is attuned to your touch. He’s half-hard, gritting his teeth. His forehead falls to your mid-section, brows furrowed as he gasps. 

“I need you,” Levi croaks. His voice is trembling, the brush of your knee against his half-hard cock making it hard to speak. You tilt your head to one side, going hard. You push Levi softly onto his back, hands on either side of his head as your thigh presses against his cock. Levi lets out a sharp gasp - squirming under your curious gaze. 

“Need me to do what, Captain Levi? Answer me,”

“Shit, need you to touch me, Miss,” 

You grin, your expression lit up with pride. You lean down, nose brushing against Levi’s with a smirk. His hands come up to the front of your nightshirt, fisting the fabric. You kiss the furrow of his brow

“Is that so, Captain? Where exactly do you need me to touch you?,” 

Levi whines, throat hoarse as he feel your hands graze over his chest underneath his white shirt, unbuttoning each one slowly. Your mouth singes his skin, open mouth kisses littering his neck. Levi doesn’t even get angry when the hickies you bite into his neck are above the collar - though he’s sure his cadets won’t let it go when he blushes because of them

Right now, all Levi can feel is your hands, pinching and twisting his nipples. You brush them with your thumb, till your tongue laps at the hardened buds. You feel Levi take in a sharp inhale, your hands resting on his rib cage 

“Where do you need me to touch you, Captain Levi? Tell me,”  

“My,” A furious rush of scarlet litters Levis neck, chest and cheeks. Levi isn’t very good at being vulgar with you but your expectation weighs heavy. He shuts his eyes, gasping as your hand slowly travels lower. 

“Need you to touch my, ngh - touch my cock, Miss,” he breathes, barely getting the last bit out, “Please,” 

“Need me? Is that why you came waltzing to my bedroom in the middle of the night Cap? Did you come here just for me wreck you like a cheap slut, Captain Levi?,”  

A soft gasp tears it’s way from Levi’s throat. Humiliation flood his gut, sends butterflies leaping into his throat. Levi nods, peers into your heavy es as the travel down his body with the reminder that here, he’ll always be second place to you. Excitement rushes through him, trying to find the words to say - but it gets caught in chest somewhere. 

Levis response is cut short by your hands, fingers looping into the waist band of his pants and swiftly pulling everything down, all past his thighs. His cock bobs, heavy with pre-cum against his stomach. The tip is bright red, almost purple and Levi feels like he might cum just from seeing your face next to it. He gasps, sitting up and leaning on his hands to watch you with heavy eyes. 

“Beg for it. Captain,” you hum, lazily pumping his cock in your hands “Beg me to make you feel good,” 

“Fuck, please,” 

“Look at me,” 

Levi watches from heavy lids. Your mouth kisses up his thighs, teeth digging into the flesh with your hands finding purpose in holding him down. You’re slow, patient. A small kiss gets placed on the tip, the wind getting completely knocked out of his lungs. Down his shaft, your tongue slides over the vein as you take him fully into your mouth. Sinking down inch by inch, Levi groans as he twitches inside the warm cavern of your mouth. 

You play Levi’s body like an instrument - by now it’s what Levi expects. Still, caught off guard at the way you swallow him down your throat before stopping just as an orgasm starts. It leaves his cock aching, impending orgasm making it feel like he’s ready to explode. He needs it, and he’s going crazy with the way you’re holding it over his head. Bobbing your throat and swallowing, making him feel so damn good, but stopping right before he can release. Frustration bubbling in his gut, Levi chokes out a heavy sob. His hands still at his sides - obedient. 

“M-miss, can’t can’t, fuck - please let me cum, please - shit, I can’t do it,” Levi sounds good when he begs, begs you. He would never be caught begging anyone for anything but he’s pleading through the haze of an orgasm and the carefulness of your touch. Your eyes quirk when his cock is in your mouth, smiling at the tears that slide down soft cheeks and angular jaw. 

“You wanna cum? Couldn’t even make me cum, could you?” You pause, getting up. You carefully undo the belt from his pants that had previously been pushed off before facing him level again. 

“Why would you, mindless little fucktoy like you can’t think about getting off and following order - isn’t that right Captain,” you muse. 

“The chain of command here means you’ll always be below me, Captain - that’s where you  belong,” you say, barely hiding the sarcasm in your voice. Levi feels dizzy. Nodding deliriously, he lifts his hands up. The warm leather wraps around his wrist not once, but twice as you fasten it together. Tied arms fall back onto the bed, and Levi groans as he watches you get undressed. Your panties make a slick sound as you shimmy them off. 

Levi’s mouth waters, smoothing his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches you. Your thighs make it around either side of his. You slide your dripping cunt right against the length of his cock, letting it rest against your navel. He can feel the swell of your clit pulsate, how warm and tight you must be. He’s restrained by the weight of your hips but he bucks them up anyways. 

You lean forward, cupping your jaw in your hands. Squishing his face together, you raise a brow. 

“Open,” 

His eyes widen as you spit into his mouth - cock twitching against your stomach as you do. Groaning - the sound of your laugh making his chest ache. Levi barely has time to watch you. His eyes rolling into back of his neck, thrashing as he feels your cunt wrap around him. 

“Fuck, fuck - it feels so good. W-wanna cum,” Levi admits. You raise a brow. Levi can barely contain himself, the pleasure curling inside of him. It’s all so humiliating, how much he loves it and how much he loves you. You’re ruining him and he loves it. His hypersensitive cock is aching inside of you. So tight - like silk. Everything is blurry. 

“You can cum, baby - but I’m not stopping till I’m satisfied,” 

Your grin is wicked and Levi watches wide eyes as you lift your hips all the way up before slamming them back down again with no warning and no mercy. Levi groans loudly, your hands swiftly on his chest as you bounce yourself on his cock without any mercy. His throat flutters, the need to orgasm growing impossibly worse as you fuck him at this agonizing pace. The sound of dripping cunt riding him fills the room with lewd noises, pleasure thrumming in Levis ribs. 

Your tits are bouncing as you fuck him so roughly - so fast and so hard that each breath feels sharp.  Wet pussy dripping all down his cock, down past his thighs with disregard for Levi’s helpless warnings about just how close he is. It feels so good he’s seeing white behind his eyelids, spine arching off the bed as he breaches his first, painful and broken orgasm. 

Levi can’t get the words out when he finishes, unable to do anything but choke out a loud moan of pleasure, body twitching. Despite the fact he’s just cum you hold up to your promise, not even pausing. A satisfied grin makes Levi look at with pleading eyes, brows furrowing in overstimulation. The way his body is seizing is makes his voice cease. Everything comes out in a silent scream or pitchy moan. Pleasure that’s ruining him, tears of frustration running down his face as his cock remains painfully hard and hypersensitive. 

“Holy shit, shit - wait, fuck,” 

“So selfish captain, telling me stop when you haven’t even made me cum yet,” you say with a heavy pant “Needy fucking cumslut, not even telling me stop are you? Want me to keep going even though it hurts, right? Filthy,” 

Levi shuts his eyes hard. His lungs feel like they’ve collapsed. The smell of sex and your nails scratching down his chest make his nerves stand on end. Everything is hazy - not a single thought in his head belongs to him as pleasure and pain mix and make his skin burn up. The dull throb of pleasure has him hiccuping with an uncontrollable sob. The sound of his broken voice is like music to your ears, your own orgasm impending. You lean back, letting your fingers toy with your clit. 

Levi watches you through lidded, tear-stained eyes. Another weak spurt of cum shoots inside of you, thin and messy. His nails have dug tightly into the palms of his hands, gritting his teeth as he feels you. 

“So fucking vulgar, Captain - this is what you came here for, right? Just here to do what I tell you and take it like an indecent brat,” 

“G-goddamn it, shit,” 

“Cumming twice in one night - you love how much it hurts right? Our Captain Levi is a painslut ‘n a masochist, isn’t he?,” 

Levi’s heavy lids blink up at you, your face twisted up in pleasure as you ride his softening cock. Your fingers dance across your clit expertly, slamming down till you’re fully seated as you get yourself off using his body. He looks at you needily, not much left of his voice. 

“Please, please  use me, make yourself - haah, fuck, make yourself cum,” 

You collapse forward, shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You let out a silent scream as you connect your mouth with Levis, moaning into his mouth as you ride the high of your orgasm. 

When you pull away, Levi is still caught in the throes of subspace. You pepper kisses along his forehead and cheeks, cupping his face as he grows soft. 

“So, Captain, how was that? You feel okay?,” 

Levi frowns at you, wrapping his tied arms around your neck. He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning tiredly. 

“It was good. Now untie me,” he demands, though you’re almost positive it’s because he wants to cuddle. You chuckle, kissing the crown of his forehead. 

You lean back, undoing the ties on Levis arms and holding his wrists. He sits up, burying his face in your chest with his tired arms loosely around your waist. Your fingers scratch his scalp warmly, cooing praises about him being your good boy off-handedly before tapering off in idle conversation. That’s how Levi likes aftercare most, the vibrations of your voice as he cheeks are pressed against your tits. 

Levi is hugging you but he’s at your mercy all the same. Aching body, covered in hickies and bruises and nail-marks - he’s at your mercy.

 That’s what worship means to him. 

#levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #sub!levi #sub!aot #k; degradation #k; dacryphilia #k; spitting #k; overstim #k; edging #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighty Nine

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

July 14th, 2003

Remy woke up in the middle of the night, shaking violently. He couldn’t sleep, again, because he had a nightmare about his parents, again. He ran a hand over his face and looked at Emile next to him in bed. At least his fiancé was still asleep this time. He had been waking Emile up far too often with nightmares about his parents ruining their wedding.

He hadn’t told Emile that’s what the nightmares were about recently, but he knew he couldn’t keep that secret up for very long. He just hoped that whenever it came time to invite his parents to the wedding, these nightmares would stop.

  July 15th, 2003

Remy was dead on his feet, but if Emile thought that he wasn’t going to the homeless shelter, he was dead wrong. Remy had an entire day’s worth of food from Sleep Easy that hadn’t been bought, and he wanted it to go to use. He had dressed in one of his blouses and jeans the second he had gotten home, and was heading to the homeless shelter to meet up with Emile.

The second he opened the door, he could hear the children screaming in delight, no doubt playing with Emile. Remy headed to the kitchen to drop off the food before he went to check on Emile. He knocked on the door to the kids’ room and asked, “You kids busy with my fiancé or am I allowed to kiss him hello?”

Emile was currently hog-tied on the floor, and Remy had to bite his lip to keep his laughter in check. “You can say hi,” one of the boys said. “I was showing everyone the wilderness tricks my uncle taught me.”

“Ah,” Remy said. “And you’re using my fiancé as an example?” he asked.

The boy shrugged. “He volunteered.”

“I thought you were...gonna tie my hands together or something, not hog-tie me,” Emile said, wriggling on the floor. “Can you untie me yet? I’m starting to lose feeling in my feet.”

“Let ‘im go, please,” Remy sighed.

The boy nodded and gave the rope a good tug, letting Emile go in one swift movement. Emile just laid on the ground, groaning for a moment, before he sat up. “Hi, honey,” he said, kissing Remy as Remy got down on his haunches.

“I have an aunt who says you guys shouldn’t do that,” one of the girls piped up. “She’s really dumb.”

Remy laughed hard enough at that to the point he couldn’t keep his balance and collapsed on the floor in giggles. Emile shook his head. “It’s not nice to call people ‘dumb,’” he said.

“Well, my mom calls her dumb!” the girl said. “And that’s why we don’t live with her. That, and she had a baby in April. And Jessica cries all the time whenever we go over to borrow a shower.”

“You probably woke her up. Babies sleep a lot,” Emile said simply. “Is this aunt on your mom or your mother’s side?”

“My mom’s,” the girl said. “Why?”

“I’m making a blacklist of all the homophobes in town,” Remy said as he sat up with a groan. “If they’re too nasty they’re not allowed in my shop.”

“Oh. My aunt’s last name is Gaines. She’s Aunt Diane to me, though.”

“Got it,” Remy said, pulling out a notebook and writing Diane Gaines in it. “That’s another report of someone denying their family a home, which is also scummy.”

“How did you know Aunt Diane doesn’t let us live there even if we wanted to?” the girl asked.

“Because you said your aunt doesn’t like men kissing, and your moms are gay,” Remy said.

The girl sighed. “You know, some of the kids at school say I’m going to Hell ‘cause of that,” she said.

“Well, don’t tell them I said this, but those kids are dumb, too,” Remy said, barely biting back a snarl.

“Remy, that’s not nice,” Emile warned.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Remy muttered darkly.

The kids were staring at Remy like he had a second head. Emile cleared his throat. “Sorry, guys. Religion is a...sore spot for Remy sometimes,” he said awkwardly.

“Literally the only time I’ve ever been comfortable in a church is when we went together to stick it to your grandfather, and even then the prayers were weird,” Remy declared.

Emile tilted his head to the side. “You should have told me. I wouldn’t have made you go.”

“I went voluntarily,” Remy said. “The only time I was comfortable-ish was when I went voluntarily. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Wait, people can force you to go to church?” one of the boys said, pulling a face.

“If those people are your parents, yes,” Remy growled. “Still hate my mom and dad for that.”

“You hate your parents?!” another girl asked, alarmed.

“Remy, maybe you should stop while you’re ahead,” Emile advised.

“Yeah, I was literally about to leave,” Remy said, shaking his head. “I’m needed in the kitchen anyway.”

“But why do you hate your parents?! Parents are always nice!” one of the boys said.

Remy could feel his emotions being pushed to their limit, and he stood up, tossing a, “Not always,” over his shoulder.

After Remy helped organize the food for the night, Bernie walked in and called Remy over. “Remy, I need a word with you,” he said.

Remy winced and complied. “Yeah, Bernie?” he asked.

“Some of the kids have come up to me and asked if I know where your parents are, and if they can hurt you still,” Bernie said. “Care to explain?”

With a sigh, Remy said, “I was tired. I didn’t keep my tongue in check properly. That’s my bad. Won’t happen again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re considering the kids, but that’s not my concern,” Bernie said. “Were you abused?”

“According to my parents, or everyone else in my life?” Remy snarked.

Bernie blinked. “Easy, son. I just wanted to make sure you’re in a safe position.”

“Safe is relative,” Remy said, pinching his nose. “And don’t call me son today, please.”

“Is Emile hurting you?” Bernie asked.

“No, never.”

“And your parents?”

“Don’t know where I live,” Remy said. “They can’t get to me.”

Bernie nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Long day?”

“Too long.”

“Want a chance to sit in my office instead of doing more stressful work with the kids or with the kitchen?”

Remy felt ashamed of his answer, but he nevertheless nodded his head.

Bernie led him to the back office, and Remy sat down in a chair in front of the desk heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bernie said.

“You have children running up to you, asking you if there’s an adult equivalent of CPS that can make sure my parents don’t know where I live,” Remy scoffed. “Are you saying that doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m saying that’s not because of you,” Bernie said, sitting behind the desk and flipping through paper records. “That, Remy, is because of your parents. Not you.”

“They haunt me everywhere I go,” Remy muttered darkly.

Bernie said nothing, just looked up at Remy and waited for him to continue in his own time.

“They tried to unsuccessfully force their backwards beliefs on me. They hurt me in ways that I don’t even know how to begin to describe. My mother stalked me, my father guilt-tripped me in a letter for not going home with her. Multiple times. And you know what?” Remy’s voice was rising from a barely audible rumble to a near-shout. “Despite all that, I still want them to be proud of me! I still want their validation, their love! I still want them at my fucking wedding, whenever that happens, in a Catholic church, because Emile’s somewhat religious! They would eat me alive if they thought I was Catholic, nevermind agnostic! But I still want them there! I want them to be proud of me, dammit!” Remy slumped backwards in his seat, covering his face with his hands as he started to cry. “I want them to be proud of me, Bernie. I can’t let them go, because there’s that chance that they could change their minds.”

Bernie sat there, with his hands folded in front of him, a piercing gaze going straight through Remy’s soul. “I can see why Emile thinks you need therapy,” Bernie said drily. “Remy. Can you look at me a moment?”

Remy brought his hands down from his face and his gaze up from the floor.

“Your parents do not define your worth. You’re the only one who is allowed to do that. What they think? Doesn’t matter at the end of the day. I know, that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. And, for what it’s worth?” Bernie nodded. “I’m proud of you. Proud of you for owning up to mistakes, for the progress you’ve made, for the choice you make to continue on every day. I’m proud you’ve opened yourself up to Emile. I’m proud you’ve worked hard enough to make your own shop. And most importantly, I’m proud to call you a friend.”

Remy blinked the tears away, shaking his head. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m not trying to dismiss you. I just want someone to be proud of me as a parent, though. There’s a need there...and it doesn’t get filled by friends, though friends can help alleviate the ache.”

Bernie hummed. “You’re in contact with Emile’s parents, yes?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Remy sighed. “Why?”

“I think you should call them. Not with Emile. Just on your own. Talk to them about your life. If necessary, tell them you need someone to be proud of you, but I don’t think that will be an issue. From what Emile has told me, they shower praise and love on everyone they meet,” Bernie said. “They may ‘only’ be in-laws, but at the end of the day, they will be your parents too. Talk to them, see if them loving you fills that void at all. You might be surprised,” Bernie offered.

Remy laughed in disbelief. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked.

“Because you’re caught in the moment, and in the emotions,” Bernie said. “Sometimes you need someone who can cut through all that and offer you a different solution.”

Remy nodded. “Ain’t that the truth?”

“Do you feel better?” Bernie asked.

Remy nodded.

“Then I do believe we should head back out and see how much of your shop food has been claimed,” Bernie said with a smile. “Everyone loves it here.”

“Oh, come on, it would just go to waste if I didn’t bring it here, it’s nothing special,” Remy scoffed.

Bernie and Remy walked out of the office and Bernie said, “Oh, but sometimes that’s exactly why it’s special.”

Emile rushed down the hallway to them, and hugged Remy tight. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Better,” Remy said simply. “How are the kids?”

“Worried about you. And promising not to ask any more questions about you if it means you get to play with them after dinner.”

“I’m a bit too tired to play with them,” Remy sighed. “I’m a bit too tired to work on anyone else’s finances, too, but I can go home straight after dinner. You usually can’t.”

“I’m willing to, if that’s what you need,” Emile offered.

Remy considered Bernie’s words. “No,” he said. “I think I’ll be okay. Might call Mom and Dad tonight, just to get some words of wisdom.”

“I know they’d love to hear from you,” Emile said, frowning. “What brought this on?”

Remy shrugged. “Sound advice from a friend.”

Bernie smiled and shooed them off to get their food from the kitchen. Remy felt numb most of dinner, but reassured the kids who came up to him that he was all right. The second he got the chance, however, he made his excuses and left to go home. He opened the address book and called Emile’s parents. “Hello?” Emile’s mother asked.

“Hey, Mom,” Remy sighed. “Everyone’s all right over here, but I was hoping we could just talk for a bit?”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart! What do you want to talk about?”

Remy groaned, “I had a long day at work and then when I went to volunteer at the shelter, I said some things I shouldn’t have. And it really sucked. Now the kids are worried about me and I feel like a screw-up.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know that you’re not actually a screw-up, right? You’re incredibly bright, and sometimes we just hit our limits sooner than we expect to. No matter what happened tonight, you’re still an amazing young man. And I’m proud to have you as a son.”

Remy could feel tears coming to his eyes and he choked out, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Emile’s mom asked.

“For being you,” Remy said. “And for being here for me.”

“Remy, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

[thorsstorms]

Hi! I will be posting this month as much as I can for this little Christmas challenge. I may not get every day finished but they will be just little drabbles. I am Christian so they may have a mention of religion in there for a few prompts but mostly it will just be holiday fun. The first week of the month I may miss a few due to stress in prep for finals. These will mostly be unedited but cute little scenarios enjoy :-)

Masterlist

Christmas otp masterlist

Day 13 - Christmas tree (Thor x reader)

He was coming back tonight and you were almost done getting ready. That was until, you trip while pulling your dress on and knock your chin on the corner of the night stand.

You yelped standing up straight, cursing to yourself in the empty apartment. Why can’t anything go right? The cookies you tried to make from scratch for once in your life were burned on the bottoms, because you were distracted with setting up the tree.

You panicked once you finally smelled the cookies wafting through the room, and ended up singeing your fingertips on the pan. That was only the beginning of a very bad night.

Once you started to uncover the ornaments to decorate the tree, you picked up your favorite one, only for the second half to remain at the bottom of the box. It was broken. You stared at the broken halves, holding back a frustrated noise bubbling in your throat.

Yesterday you had gotten your nails done, a pretty red for the christmas season, but one broke this morning, jamming it in a cabinet while putting away dishes. The pain was still there only muted some. Tried to braid your hair nice and pretty but restarted three times before giving up because the nails you were once so excited about, turned out to be too long and would snag on the strand, efficiently ruining the braid all together.

And makeup, ooooo. You already know eyeliner was not your sweet spot. The makeup wipe because your best friend and you opted to just not do it in the end.

You were trying too hard, and you knew it. But it was Thor’s first christmas, with you at least, and you wanted it to be special. You wanted it to be perfect for when he comes home.

You were just lighting a candle on the coffee table when he walked through the door, shrugging off his coat just in time to turn around and catch you in his arms. He was gone for too long. Any time gone is too long.

Your lips pressed to his eagerly, then letting go too soon.

“Wow,” his eyes wandered past you, marveling at the unfinished tree and the small festive decorations littered across the room.

“Do you like it?” You asked him truly. You had spent so much time trying to put this together for him.

“I do,” he answered, giving you a slight kiss before easing you to the floor and announcing that he was going to shower.

You watched him walk away and disappear into the bedroom, slightly bitter about his lack of response, but you tried to blow it off as he was tired. He had been away on a mission, he deserved to take a shower and relax in his own home.

You took a deep breath and moved back towards the christmas tree to finish it. It was calming to do, besides wandering thoughts if you had tried too hard weighing you down. You were just so frustrated with today and wanted it to be over.

He came out dressed in lounging clothes just as you finished with the last ornament.

“Okay im done!” you announced, reaching for the chord to plug it in while he watched.

Except… it didnt do anything.

You pulled it out and pushed it back again once more… nothing.

You stood, staring at it in disbelief before you felt tears rush to your eyes.

“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself.

“What? What is it?” Thor questioned you. He watched confused as you tensed up and ignored him. “It looks beautiful, I like it.” He announces.

“No, it is supposed to light up!”

“With the plug?” He questioned, now understanding your distress.

You swallowed down a reply, not trusting yourself at the moment, opting for a nod in return.

“Well, actually,” he started, sudden;y sounding bashful. “I dont think that outlet works…”

“What?”

“Well, one day while you were at work, I was here with Steve just picking something up before we headed back out, and he started making jokes about electricity.”

“Thor…” you warned. You both had just moved into this brand new apartment only two months ago. If he already broke it…

“I just, I took the light bulb from that lamp and I lit it up with my finger, then instead of putting the light bulb back, I stuck one finger in the lamp and kept the light bulb in my other hand to see if the current would run through me and… he was curious”

“Thor!”

“Steve says a blew the fuse!” He spit out quickly finished the story. He sat nervous, hands figdeting a top his thighs. You, a young human, was who he feared sometimes. He didn’t want you to find out.

You moved your eyes from him, back to the maybe not-so-usless light cord in your hand.

His story sat for a second in your ears until you thought about it. A small snicker left your mouth and your anger of the christmas tree, then bubbled louder when you thought about how childish those two were together. The hysterical laughter followed when you though of how timid and scared he looked to tell you, of how bad you day had been, only for it to end with an iconic story being spilled out into the open.

“Are you not upset?” He watched you stalk towards him, body still racking with giggles. You answered him with a seat in his lap and a kiss on his lips.

“You are something else I tell you.” You mumbled, pulling away. “As long as my christmas tree has working lights, I’m all good. I was just frustrated all day because nothing was going right. But, im sure when i see the shiny tree il feel better.”

“Well go plug it into a different one!” He stood with you and helped move the tree carefully towards another outlet. You reached down nder the tree for the chord hanging down and shoved it into the outlet, standing up to admire your work. Only it was still not lit up.

You stared at it, while Thor looked back and forth between you and three like it was some kind of stare down.  

“Fuck it, I’m going to bed.” He watched you turn and walk out of the room and not look back. He furrowed his brows staring at the tree, then back at the outlet, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try.

He pulled the chord out and examine the metal prongs before sticking his finger to it, a glow of blue light shocking the metal. The small spark cause the tree the strobe a moment before falling dark again.

It works. He thought to himself.

He reaches down and plugs it into the bottom outlet, then straightened to watch the tree light up in bright colors.

#christmas otp challenge #thor #thor x reader

[lovesickjoon]

bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur,  voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.  

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more.  The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before.  "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever.  You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.  

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later.  Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand.  Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in,  it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

#btssmutclub #BSCproject #hyunglinenetwork #jeon jungkook #jungkook/reader #smut #bts smut #bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #dom jungkook #demons #demon jungkook #imagines #bts imagine #jimin #taehyung #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin

[mrschangrettawrites]

Acquisitions

Summary: Every person has their purpose, and yours has just come up.

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Words: 1692

Notes: FINALLY AN UPDATE AFTER SIX MONTHS FDKNGKDOFNGDKFNGOD god im so sorry it has taken this long to update but i've gotten a job since starting this fic and it's consumed much of my time, then the holidays were upon us and, well, yall know how it goes. but i got hit with inspo during my shift today so here it is! the long awaited fourth chapter! hopefully future updates wont be as delayed but who knows lmao. anyways thanks for waiting! minor tw for violence. Spoilers for season four, but it is v canon divergent so not really very many, reader is a WOC. I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Tagging: @kittiofdoom @justanothergal22 @sophspark @blinder-secrets @ree-duh @kamala-khaan if you would like to be tagged just lmk!

Just as the tension was getting to be almost too overwhelming, a waiter arrived with two menus, and you had never been so relieved to be served in your life.

“Thank you.” You said, smiling brightly as you took one and did your best to hide behind it under the guise of reading the dishes on offer. Thankfully there were pork free dishes on offer, which made you remember that you were going to have to educate Luca on Islam and it’s rules. Then you wondered if he would be as open and kind about there being another religion in his home as your father had been prior to his reversion. You guessed that Luca was Catholic, and while there were similarities between Catholicism and Islam, there were far more glaring differences.

“When we have our wedding,” you began hesitantly, “will it be in a church?”

“If I know my mother as well as I think I do, I doubt we’ll have a choice.” Luca joked. “Why?”

“Just checking!” You said quickly, going back to the menu. Even though there had not been a masjid in Small Heath, you had always dreamed of getting married in one. Your parents had to go all the way to London, so you figured that you would be able to do the same. Would New York have masjids? Would it have Muslims? Would it have Turkish Muslims?

“What's New York like?”

Luca paused, setting his menu down. “Well, for one, it’s a lot bigger than Small Heath.”

That made you smile. “I thought as much.”

“I don’t know, it’s just...hard to describe.” Luca drummed his fingers on the table, making your gaze flit down to his hand, and watch how elegantly it moved. “It’s full of life.” He said finally, his hand still again. “Everywhere you go there’s at least twelve dozen people around you, even at night it’s busy. Makes Small Heath look pretty sleepy in comparison.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you considered this. Your mind ran wild with images of towering spires, roads that went on for kilometers, people dressed in all manner of ways. Your life had been a sheltered one, but that was all about to change.

A waiter soon arrived, asking for your orders.

“I’ll have the chicken Alfredo.” Luca said. He and the waiter both looked over at you, waiting for your order.

You began to panic as you had become too wrapped up in your thoughts to think of an order. “Oh um, make it two!” You said, inwardly wincing at how your voice raised at the end.

But the waiter made no indication of noticing, merely made a note of the orders and said that the kitchen would get right to it.

You looked back down at your teacup, eyes traveling over the lines, both dark and faint, trying to figure out what they were trying to tell you, if anything.

“Have you had much Italian food?” Luca asked, and you were grateful for the distraction.

“Not really.” You said. “Just Turkish and English food.”

“Well I can’t speak on Turkish food, but English stuff sucks.” Luca said bluntly.

A giggle slipped from you. “It can be pretty bland.” You agreed. “I mean, the English have an empire that spans the entire globe, with colonies that have incredible spices, but they never use them in cooking for some reason.” That would never cease to bamboozle you.

Luca grinned and chuckled. “I know Matteo can’t wait to be back in New York with proper food.”

You furrowed your brow. “Which one is he?”

Luca raised a brow, but pointed at a booth just a few meters away, where you recognised two of Luca’s men. “The one of the left is Matteo, and the other is Frederico.” He explained. “Matteo can be a little hot headed, but he’s loyal. Frederico is more quiet.” His gaze went back to you. “And they will both protect you.”

While the notion of being protected and watched by gangster was far from a new one, the gangsters in question were usually men you knew well. You glanced at them nervously. “So, they’re ok with this whole marriage thing.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Luca said dismissively. “They’re soldiers, and they’ll do what they’re told.”

You knew that was meant to put you at ease, but it didn’t work. They had orders yes, but orders have been ignored before. And you couldn’t help but wonder how they really felt about their leader marrying some girl from England, who belonged to a family that not a week ago they were planning to kill. You fisted the fabric of your dress that rested on your lap.

“W-Why me?” You asked quietly. You had managed to keep the question away from the front of your mind so far, but you needed to know. “Why would you choose me? If you were going to marry anyone, Ada would’ve been the smart choice. She’s Tommy’s sister, and she already has a son, she knows how to…” You trailed off, face burning. “Well, you know.” You cleared your throat. “Why are you marrying me?”

Luca was silent, his unreadable, impassive gaze slowly going over you. It made the hairs all over your body stand up, in fact your surprised that the hair on your head hadn’t all magically sprung to life. “I wanted to repay a debt.”

You furrowed your brow. “Debt? What debt? You don’t owe me anything.”

“It isn’t my debt.” Luca clarified. “It’s my mother’s.”

“Your...mother?”

He nodded. “She hasn’t forgotten, how you got her out of Small Heath.”

Oh. You looked back down, face flushing again. “I didn’t help your mum to have her in my debt.” You said, horrified that that’s what they, the Changretta’s and their people, all thought.

“I know.” Luca sounded calm, patient. “My mother said you weren’t that type. But you still got her out of Thomas’s path, and because of you she’s alive. I’m just repaying you. Now we’re even.”

You nodded, slowly, still not sure what to make of this reason, if it was in fact the truth.

If you were completely truthful, you hadn’t been thinking at all when you had gone to help Audrey Changretta. You just knew that her husband was dead, after hours of torture, and you knew that Tommy wouldn’t have thought twice to go after her. You still remembered that day, as if it had just happened.

While the early morning fog had still clung to your ankles, you raced to her home, heart hammering. You were terrified that you were too late or that she wasn’t home, but she was there, tired and a little disheveled, but there.

“You have to leave.” You had blurted out. “I’m so sorry. Tommy’s killed your husband and you have to go I’m so sorry I really am but you need to go please, please just go!”

It had taken you a few minutes to calm down and fully explain everything, but once you had, Mrs Changretta did as you asked. You even helped her pack, and kept an eye out for any Blinders. You went with her to the train station, all the while telling her how sorry you were. You were almost hysterical, and in tears by the time her train arrived. You thought that would be the last time you ever saw a Changretta.

When Tommy heard that Mrs Changretta was gone, he was livid. You had walked in on him yelling at John and Arthur, demanding that they go out and find her, leave no stone unturned, no person unquestioned. He was going to have his pound of flesh, one way or another.

“She’s gone.” Once again your mouth had moved faster than your brain could think, and you stared, wide eyed, as the three brothers and Polly all looked at you in shock.

“She’s what.” Tommy’s tone had been dripping with venom, and it sent a chill all through you.

“I’m sorry Tommy but I-I helped her leave.” You wilted a little, hunched over, equal parts ashamed and scared. “She didn’t do anything Tommy! She-”

You were cut off by the feel of skin colliding harshly against your cheek, sending you to the ground.

In a daze you looked up, to see Tommy being restrained by Arthur and John, while Polly screamed at him.

“YOU DON’T RAISE A HAND TO FAMILY LIKE THAT THOMAS!” You had never seen your aunt so furious, and it had only made your state worse.

“DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” Thomas roared, eyes alight with rage. “YOU BETRAY THIS FAMILY AGAIN AND YOU’RE OUT!”

You began to cry. “I-I’m sorry Tommy! I’m sorry!” You wept and begged for forgiveness, but that had only angered Tommy further.

“Should ship you to fucking Istanbul!” He snarled. He paused when a child’s cries began to echo in the house, making him look at the ceiling. “And you fucking woke up Charlie!” Tommy managed to shake off his two brothers, and he glared down at you before getting out a cigarette. “I mean it.” He said, in his low, quiet, dangerous voice. “If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll put you in a fucking crate myself.”

Even after Polly got you out of the house you were sobbing, still saying how sorry you were.

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart.” Polly had said gently. “You did a good thing.”

‘Did I?’

“How is your mother?” You asked, trying to ignore the memory of the stinging pain from Tommy’s slap.

“She’s alive, which is what matters.” Luca smiled gently. “Thank you. I mean that. My mother is all I have left now.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “I would do it again.” You said, only realizing how true it was once all the words had left your mouth.

“Two chicken Alfredos.” The waiter had reappeared, carrying the dishes on a silver platter and laying them out in front of the both of you.

“Grazie.”

“Thank you so much.”

The waiter nodded before moving onto another table.

“Still can’t believe you people don’t tip.” Luca said, sounding genuinely mistified.

“What’s a tip?”

#luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders x reader #GUESS WHO'S BACK #BACK AGAIN

[inotherverse]

I’ll Be Home For DedSec (Marcus/Wrench)

ONLY A DAY LATE FOR THAT GOOD CHRISTMAS FIC HERE WE GO

also I haven’t finished the game asdfghj I still have to play the last mission but I think this is still canon compliant???

also u can read it on ao3 if you’d like gimme a kudos hell yeah

thanks bl;pealse enjoy

“What’re you doing here, man? You know it’s Christmas, right?”

Wrench turned at the sound of the voice and saw Marcus coming down the stairs of the hackerspace, smiling playfully at him.

“Do I really seem the type to celebrate, M?” he said, turning back to his work, already comfortable with the second presence in the room. “Get drunk at somebody else’s party, maybe, but I’m not a ‘spend time with family, get all warm and fuzzy inside’ kinda guy.”

“Still, go home, take a break, watch a shitty holiday movie. It’s a holiday, use other people’s religion as an excuse to slack off like the rest of us,” Marcus said, coming to stand just behind Wrench at his workbench.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wrench looked at Marcus over his shoulder. “Hey, and what about you? Why are you here?”

“‘Cause I knew you’d be here,” Marcus said, with a smug smile playing at his lips.

Wrench laughed softly. “Yeah? And shouldn’t you be, like, with your family right now?”

“I’m going later,” He said, walking forward to stand next to him. “What’re you even working on down here?”

“Jumper upgrades, mostly. There’s not much else to do,” Wrench gestured to the guts of the jumper in front of him, spread out on the table, along with some other technological odds and ends. “Well, actually, I’m sure there’s a lot of rich and powerful people getting drunk in a room together somewhere...” the screen of his masked showed two capital O’s as he looked imploringly at Marcus.

“Eh, we’ll get ‘em on New Year’s,” Marcus said, dismissing Wrench’s suggestion with a wave of his hand. “Take a break, come with me,” He took a few steps backwards toward the stairs, ushering Wrench to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Wrench asked, looking for a stopping point in what he was doing.

“The garage.”

“Why are we going to the garage?”

“Because your Christmas present is at the garage.”

Wrench paused. “Oh. I—”

“It’s not a car.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“I know, but. It’s at the garage. I didn’t want you to think it was a car.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Because it’s not a car. And that would be, like, disappointing.”

“Yeah.” Wrench was now facing Marcus fully, the jumper forgotten at the mention of gifts. “I was just gonna say—”

“You were going to say something like, you’re surprised, or ‘oh, I didn’t get you anything,’ or whatever, right? I don’t care, man, just c’mon!” Marcus said, turning his back on Wrench and going up the stairs.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Wrench called after him, quickly crossing the room to catch up. “You’re way too excited about whatever this is.”

“No, I’m really not,” Marcus turned his smiling face on him, looking a little too mischievous.

“Sure,” Wrench gave him a small shove up the stairs. “And do you really need to wear a turtleneck and a coat in California? I get it’s Christmas, but you look like a love interest in a shitty Hallmark movie.”

Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t understand fashion. I’m sorry you can see art right in front of you and not even recognize it. It’s so tragic for you.”

They reached the door, and Marcus bowed, motioning dramatically for Wrench to go before him. He followed, and the sliding door closed behind them, sealing the hackerspace.

“Also, stop watching Hallmark movies.”

———————————————————————————-

“I can’t believe we made it all the way here and you’re still on this.”

Wrench threw his arms up in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I don’t actually watch them,” He argued, waiting as Marcus opened the door to the garage. “I just know what they’re like!”

“How do you know what they’re like if you don’t watch them?” Marcus taunted, clearly enjoying dragging out the argument despite his protest.

Wrench’s mask switched to ‘angry eyes’: two downward-slanted lines. “Because I just fucking know what they’re like! Everyone does! They’re like, a staple of—” he stopped short as he walked through the door, seeing Marcus’s handiwork.

Next to his workbench stood the chalkboard he kept there, giant letters in Marcus’s straight, thin handwriting read: “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” It was curved to arc perfectly over the box that stood in front, lined up with careful precision. The box looked huge, a tall rectangle coming to above Wrench’s middle, and was wrapped in red and green paper, complete with a ribbon running up the sides and forming a bow at the top.

“Whoa,” Wrench breathed, taking tentative steps toward the box. “It’s all wrapped up and everything.”

“...Yes.” Marcus said, as he closed the door behind himself. “That’s typically how these things go. Kind of a staple of the thing.”

“Damn, Marcus,” Wrench said, slowly circling the gift and ignoring Marcus’s jab at him. “This thing is huge.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Shut the fuck up, stop ruining Christmas with your dick,” Wrench said, holding a finger out to silence Marcus while eyeing the present.

“Well?” Marcus urged, impatient. “You gonna open it, or just stare at it?”

Wrench still hesitated a moment. “I’m��� just trying to guess what it is. It looks like there’s a fucking toddler in here.”

“Nah, too tall for a toddler. He’s eight, minimum.”

Wrench rubbed his hands together, then attacked his present. Marcus watched, hands clutched in anticipation, as Wrench first untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then ripped away the first bit of paper, halfway down the side.

“Oh… my god,” More paper ripping. “It’s not.”

“It is!” Marcus replied gleefully.

“Fuck. Fuck! Holy fuck!” Wrench started bouncing in place, unable to contain his joy.

“Yep!” Marcus replied, smiling, matching Wrench’s energy.

“Fucking… Marcus!” Wrench screamed, reaching a higher pitch than he realized he was capable of making, the filter of his mask helping it reach ear-splitting levels. Through his excitement he ripped the rest of the paper away until it stood fully revealed: a huge box emblazoned with Haum’s logo. He pulled the front panel away, revealing his gift: a brand new security bot. “I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Merry Christmas, Wrench!” Marcus said, clapping his hand down on Wrench’s shoulder. “Your boy’s been reincarnated!”

“Marcus, how in the hell!” Wrench was still barely able to control himself, and not really making the attempt, looking back and forth between Marcus and the robot. “It was like, absurdly difficult to get one of these the first time!”

“I have my ways! Don’t worry about it, just get to work on ‘im. He’s severely in need of a paint job.”

“Oh fuck, Marcus, thank you so much!” Wrench yelled, throwing his arms around Marcus. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Marcus laughed and returned Wrench’s hug. “You’re welcome, man.”

Wrench pulled back some to meet Marcus’s eyes with his own exclamation points. “You’re the best, you’re literally the best!”

Marcus laughed again. “Hey, I try.”

“You! You literally fucking..!” Wrench started, launching away from Marcus and toward the robot. “This is really the best thing, Marcus, I mean it.”

“Well, I mean, I know getting rid of Wrench Jr. was really fucked up, I mean even if it was the best thing to do at the time…” Marcus settled against the nearby table, watching Wrench excitedly pull the bot from the box, flitting around it like a hummingbird. “So, here he is! Look, your son came home for Christmas!”

They both laughed a moment, before Marcus said, “Hey, I got him, both times, doesn’t that make me like, his other dad?”

Wrench gasped. “Oh my God, it does.” He laughed, then spread his arms wide. “Hey, look at me, I’m spending time with family on Christmas, like a real person!”

They both laughed, bringing the initial excitement in the room down, replacing it with a calmer, comfortable moment of silence. Wrench stopped bouncing around the security bot, and came to stand in front of Marcus.

“I’m serious, M, this is really great. I wish I had something cool and amazing for you that illustrated that I understand you better than anyone else, but…”

Marcus laughed. “Hey, there’s always next year, man. And, I mean, you don’t have to get me anything, that wasn’t what I was going for here.”

“I know. Ugh, you’re such a nice person. I hate you.”

“Wow. This family is tearing me apart,” Marcus said, moving as if to walk over to the security bot. “Okay then, I’ll just take my son and leave.”

Wrench positioned himself between the two, putting a hand on Marcus’s chest to stop him. “Just kidding, I love you, do not touch him.”

Marcus held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Could’ve said it with more feeling, but I’ll accept it.”

“Oh! Okay, round two,” Wrench cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. “Marcus Holloway.”

Marcus burst into laughter, just at the way Wrench pronounced his name: deep and low like a love confession in a bad movie. “Don’t, don’t!”

Wrench, cleared his throat again, louder, as if protesting the interruption. “Marcus Holloway,” he began again, “Allow me to confess my admiration of you.”

“Stoooooop!”

“No! You must let me continue!” Wrench said, adopting an indistinguishable accent, lofty like a Victorian drama with the Victorian extracted, the effect only made more funny as it garbled through the filter of Wrench’s mask. “I have admired you from afar for too long! I can no longer bear it!”

Marcus threw his head back in laughter. “Stop, oh my God!”

Marcus’s laughter only urged Wrench to carry on, ready to take the bit as far as it could go. “Marcus Holloway!” his mask showed two pointed, smiling eyes briefly as Wrench couldn’t help but to laugh through his character. They lasted only moments, though, before Wrench tore the mask from his face, dropping dramatically to one knee, and holding the mask over his heart like a hat. “I must confess my undying love for you!”

“I regret—” Marcus began as his laughter began to die down. “I regret everything. Are you even doing a bit anymore? You’re a little too good at this!”

Wrench laughed at the jab, only taking everything Marcus said as encouragement. “My own love laughs in my face! How will I go on?”

“Stop, oh my god, if you go anymore I’ll have to think you’re serious, c’mon!”

Marcus kept laughing, but he felt the air in the room change. It was immediate, but subtle, as their laughter stopped and a strange expression flicked across Wrench’s face; the eyebrows previously knit in a fake severe expression rose in surprise for only a moment, before Wrench was standing back on his feet. He broke eye contact, and moved to put his mask back on, but hesitated, standing almost frozen, looking for an out.

Marcus looked over the other, trying to find meaning in the sudden change. “Wrench?”

“Uhh… yeah. Anyway,” Wrench looked everywhere but at Marcus, already half turned away from him. “What were we doing?”

Marcus began to connect the dots, and a flash of realization passed across his face. “Oh,” He stopped leaning on the table to take a half-step toward Wrench. “Wrench.”

“Oh, yeah, the present,” Wrench recalled, ignoring the knowing tone of Marcus’s voice. “It really is great— It’s a great present, Marcus, thanks.”

Wrench turned away to face the robot and moved to raise his mask to his face, but felt it stopped; he looked down, and Marcus’s hand was there, holding it in place. He looked up into Marcus’s eyes, which fell too softly on him, and he stood waiting for the worst, his anxiety written all over his face.

“Wrench,” Marcus said again, waiting for the other to turn his face away— happening at the sound of his name. “Wrench, man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” he stopped, fishing for words, and fast, before Wrench could cut in and say with a laugh that what he thought was happening wasn’t happening, that he misunderstood.

“Wrench, this isn’t— I di— ugh, this shouldn’t be so hard,” Marcus stopped a moment to look over his friend, who stood still, silent, like he was waiting for this to end, like he had already conceded defeat.

Marcus needed to respond quickly, needed to let Wrench know that whatever awful scene he was playing out in his mind wouldn’t happen, but at the same time he was at as much of a loss for words as Wrench was.

Marcus sighed. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “Wrench,” he called, softly this time, like gently calling him to come home to him.

One hand came to rest on Wrench’s shoulder that faced him, that was trying to keep him away,  as everything in Wrench’s body language screamed that he was ready to run, wanting to run, but was tired of running. The hand that rested on Wrench’s mask came up slowly until it met the cheek that was farthest away, and gently urged it to turn toward him. Wrench complied, not resisting the touch, smoothly moving where he urged him like floating in the tide.

Marcus looked into Wrench’s eyes, which was a mistake, as he almost lost his nerve, but something in the shock he saw there pushed him forward; Wrench was surprised, scared, it was clear, but what wasn’t there was protest. The hand slipped from his cheek to his chin, tipping it upwards, towards him, and Marcus dropped his eyes down to Wrench’s mouth, steeling himself to take the leap.

The kiss was slow, uncertain, and it felt to both of them like it barely held onto life, like a dandelion trembling in the wind, knowing that one stiff breeze could whisk it away entirely. Wrench’s heart thrummed in his ears like roaring wind shaking the building, but the rest of him stood stock still, afraid to move and end what he barely knew was happening. His mind screamed to slow down, to enjoy the moment before he lost it, and it took some thought before he even realized he should kiss Marcus back.

The kiss was short, Marcus eventually pulling away. His own face felt hot, and he saw a pink blush running along Wrench’s cheeks, and even a splash of it across his nose. He studied it a moment while they both caught their footing, the sight of Wrench’s uncovered face still being a rarity.

Wrench was hesitant to open his eyes. “If I look up—” He started, “I swear to God, If I look up, and there’s like, mistletoe— or some shit— above me, I’m going to fucking lose it.”

Marcus laughed, relief apparent, as he read the still-persistent uncertainty in Wrench. “Nope. Nothing up there.” He smiled, amused, as Wrench opened his eyes, flitting them briefly to the ceiling as if his word wasn’t good enough. “Just a regular kiss. Sorry to disappoint.”

Wrench sighed like a weight was lifted from him. “Marcus, oh my God,” he breathed, closing his eyes again and covering half his face with his hand. “Oh my God. That’s— I’m— Oh my God.”

Marcus bubbled with laughter, suddenly feeling lighter than he was before. “Yeah, I agree.”

“I’ve been— I’ve been— fucking dreaming of that,” Wrench said, suddenly with a confidence he didn’t have before.

“Yeah?” Marcus said, listening to Wrench as if this were the first time he had heard his deep, unaltered voice, husky now in the fading heat of the moment just before.

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since I fucking saw you, first of all, and then I got to know you, and fuck, it got so much worse than I fucking thought it would.”

Marcus smiled, and another comment to urge Wrench on played at his lips, but at that moment his phone sounded, breaking through the air like a hammer on ice. Wrench looked almost startled, like he had forgotten that there were other people in the world, and felt their eyes on him. He moved toward the security bot.

“‘S my family,” Marcus mumbled, reading his text. “I should probably leave, if I’m gonna make it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Yeah,” Marcus watched as Wrench looked for something to do. “But, hey, this was—”

“Wait,” Wrench said, suddenly freezing in his tracks.

“What?”

“Wait a fucking second.”

“I am.”

Wrench let out a pained sigh, rested a hand on top of the security bot, then laid his forehead on it. “So you gave me, like, a perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m not looking to brag, but, yes?”

“Demonstrating that you understand me really well.”

“...Sure?”

Wrench sighed again, full of exasperation. “And you look so stupid handsome in your stupid turtleneck.”

“Thank… you?”

“And we had our first kiss. On Christmas.”

“Yes.”

“Marcus, we’re living a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m a fucking Hallmark movie protagonist,” He ignored Marcus buckled over with laughter in the background and started to pace back and forth. “I’m the fucking workaholic boss or whatever the fuck and you’re my sprightly coworker who showed me the true meaning of Christmas or some shit, and I just stood here and let that happen.”

Marcus reined in his laughter long enough to respond, wiping a real tear from his eye. “I don’t think Hallmark makes movies about hacker anarchists with queer, interracial romance plots.”

Wrench perked up. “That’s the only thing that saves us,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus. “Only thing.”

Marcus laughed again. “Thank God. Now, go work on your son, give him a cool paint job, inappropriate catch phrases, the works,” he headed toward the door as Wrench settled in to work on the robot. “I need to go now, but… later? We’ll talk?”

“Yeah,” Wrench said with a lopsided, content smile, as he replaced his mask. “You know where to find me.”

#wrencus #wrenchus #hollowrench #marench #watch dogs 2 #marcus holloway #wrench #watch dogs #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #i might change the title honestly i keep changing my mind lmao but thanks Abby for the suggestion anyway