#i do want to crush bones and flesh beneath my hands to be honest i dont KNOW i thought it was going well i thought it was good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nessaxc · 3 years

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Romance Me || Gojo Satoru

You break up with Gojo because he isn't giving you what you need in the relationship. And when you get a rebound, Gojo isn't too happy about that.

~ Words: 3.7k

~ NSFW 18+

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You broke up with Gojo months ago simply because you weren't getting what you needed from the relationship. It was lacking heavily in the romance department, like was it so much to ask for him to be romantic once in a while? Maybe a candle lit dinner? For him to send you flowers and chocolates? Though, you shouldn't have been surprised, this was Satoru Gojo we were talking about, romance wasn't in his vocabulary.

At first your relationship with him was fun and exciting, and the sex was amazing and he was so adventurous in the bedroom, there was literally nothing he wasn't willing to try, which was one of the many things you adored about him. You just felt like the relationship wasn't going anywhere, and sure fighting curses in the city was exhilarating and having sex in his car was thrilling but you wanted more than just being destructive with one another. Maybe a relationship with Gojo was doomed to fail from the start, but you still hoped that maybe he would have a change of heart and start treating you the way you deserved to be treated.

He didn't take the breakup very well, you knew he wouldn't, and he was quick to flip the situation around and act like he was the one that broke it off when that clearly wasn't what happened. When you explained why you were choosing to break up with him, he didn't understand, he believed because you were a Jujutsu Sorcerer, a word like romance wasn't in your vocabulary either, but there was a lot more to you than being a fellow sorcerer.

Because you wanted to show Gojo what he was missing, you found yourself a rebound and started flaunting him off to the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, making sure to hold hands with him and kiss one another while Gojo was in the same room, just to provoke him. The sorcerer welcomed your new boyfriend with open arms, allowing you to invite him over whenever you wanted as long as he followed orders of course, which got under Gojo’s skin even more, because not only did he have to hear you talk about him all day, but he had to see you two together being all lovey-dovey with one another. Gojo knew that you couldn't care less about this new rebound of yours, that you were just keeping him around merely to make him jealous, and he found that he loathed seeing another man touch you and be in the same proximity as you. You were supposed to be his, and only his, and the thought of someone else in your bed made him feel sick, it made Gojo want to tear this guy limb from limb, and he would do just that after he got you back.

One night after you and your new boyfriend were spending some heated alone time together (and you two were sure to make a ton of noise so Gojo could hear everything) you went downstairs with him to open the door for him and to exchange sappy goodbyes before he left the building. You closed the door with a loud bang before you made your way back upstairs to your room. When you returned to your room, you saw Gojo sitting comfortably on your bed, sitting cross legged, humming away a tune as he waited for you to come back.

"Satoru, what are you doing here?" you asked with narrowed eyes, annoyance evident in your tone. "You know me and my boyfriend just had sex on that bed, right?" you added with a snort.

"So you replace me for that piece of shit?" he rasped, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"I guess so, he's so much more romantic and sweet, and he knows exactly how to make me happy," you said as you dreamily sighed, taking a seat on a chair across the bed as you looked at him.

"Tell me you didn't let him come inside you," he replied gruffly, his tone threatening and dripping with venom as the mental image crossed his mind.

"You have no business knowing that, so I don't need to answer any of your invasive questions," you told him before you added with a wide smile, "but what I can tell you is that he has a bigger dick than you, and he's way better in bed than you, he's got more experience," you lied, shrugging your shoulders, relishing in the fact how overwrought he was with jealousy.

He merely laughed at your response, knowing that you weren't being honest with him or yourself, "Oh Y/N, don't lie to me and yourself, I bet he can't even make you come," he said with a forced smile stretched across his face in attempt to hide some of his anger. "C'mon, we both know you're just using him because you're not with me anymore, it's so obvious it's pathetic, and there's no way in hell that shithead can really make you happy."

"Oh of course he does, like I said he has a ton of experience and he knows exactly how I like it," you lied again with a smug smile stuck on your face. "Someone sounds jealous," you taunted in a sing-song tone.

"Oh yeah? Sure he does," he spat as he sneered, and in one quick motion he removed himself from his position on the bed and you stood up from the chair as well when he stepped towards you, standing face to face with you. "What makes you think I'm jealous anyway? I don't give a shit if he fucked you," he continued in a harsh tone, each word laced with acrimony.

"Really now? Sure sounds like it," you mocked with a curl of your lip, "I didn't think you were the jealous type."

"That's cause I'm not, your little boy toy just fucking vexes me," he snarled as he took another step towards you, so close now that his hot breath was fanning over your mouth, sending a tingle down your spine as your gaze remained unwavering upon his. You could see every twitch of his features, he was sick with envy, that much was clear. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching in frustration as you continued to look at him with that self-satisfied smile.

"Tell me then, why does he vex you?" you asked, playing dumb, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his answer. You expected him to start cursing you out but instead he grabbed a fistful of your hair until you were both looking each other directly in the eye, barely a distance between you two. He crashed his lips into yours, devouring you in the ruthless kiss you had come to know so well. When you felt his tongue retract to plunge further, you bit down hard on his lower lip. You heard him intake a sharp breath, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep as you crushed your lips upon his, without a care if you hurt him or not, teeth knocking and noses bumping from the rush of the kiss. His hands groped around your hips, his fingers digging hard under your skirt and into your pantyhose, tearing the fabric as he lifted you by your ass, slamming you back against the wall, forcing your legs apart and hooking them around his waist.

"I fucking hate it when people touch what's mine," he breathed heavily against your mouth, "you're mine, Y/N, you don't belong to anyone else," his tone was raspy and threatening as he growled possessively.

"Now that sounded romantic," you hummed, and he smirked against your lips as he continued to press his pair insistently upon yours.

Your nails started to scratch and dig into his back, leaving streaks of pale, pink lines, making him groan into your mouth. You bit his lower lip hard and held him close to you as you ground against him feverishly. He panted hard against your mouth before turning his attention to your neck, biting and sucking hard, making you yelp out from the stinging sensations that spread across your whole body. It wasn't long until you got your revenge and started to bite and pull on his jaw, lips and chin, continuing the assault on his neck and shoulder.

You could feel his member hardening as he pinned you with his body. He was suffocating you, and every time you attempted to come up for air, he denied you. You were tasting blood, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your own.

Finally managing to grab a fistful of his hair, you pulled him back as you both gasped for air. Fresh blood was smeared across his mouth, it was blended with your lip-gloss like a stain. It was rough and perfect, just the way you liked it. He knew exactly how to suck you right back in. You both remained this way for what might have been mere minutes, but it felt like an eternity. His bright blue eyes were burning and intense, a wry grin playing in between each breath.

His tongue languidly licked the blood from his lower lip before he leaned in just beneath your jaw, biting hard into the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth piercing it. You emitted a loud moan, bucking and grinding down into his hips as you felt him sucking and pulling you tighter to him, crushing your breasts against him. You were convinced he was trying to tear your flesh from your bone, until he finally released his seal with a loud pop.

"If I have to keep branding you until you remember who you belong to," he started, his voice gravelly against the bruise already forming and blending into your neck as you felt his hand drawing down your thigh, tearing the skirt off along the way. "I will."

"That's more like it," you purred. You were both tearing off the other's clothes in a frenzy, tossing aside the articles of clothing across the room in your haste. When you were both completely bare, he hoisted you up by your ass, and you clung to him before he dropped you down on the bed. He was quick to crawl atop you, and he pushed your legs aside with a hand, seeking out the scorching heat between your thighs.

Your breath hitched as his thumb dipped between your dripping folds, parting you as he spread the wetness gathered there, your hips jutting out impatiently against his touch for more contact, "so wet for me, and only for me, you're not allowed to be like this for anyone else," he cursed hoarsely, his voice raw with his need for you. His fingers danced against your sex, palm pressing into your engorged clit, earning him a mewl of pleasure.

You threw your head back against the bed, your body arching into his touch to give him better access to the place you needed him most. You released a sharp intake of breath when he sunk two of his long fingers into your tight wet heat, his palm brushing against your clit as his lips dropped to your heaving bosom while his fingers worked over you at a maddening pace, turning you into a whimpering wanton mess beneath him.

You were putty in his hands, your body molding itself to his talented fingers with a drawn out moan. Gojo groaned at the feeling of your slick walls wrapping so deliciously against his digits, and his hard member was throbbing as he thought about how all he wanted was to take you the way he used to. You rocked your hips against his probing fingers, your eyes squeezing shut with pleasure, body begging him to pick up his pace within you. He was quick to comply, his fingers meeting your thrusts before curving them inside of you, making you cry out as you called his name in unadulterated praise.

His fingers surged into you as he rolled his wrist repeatedly against your clit, bringing his forehead to your own, his nose brushing upon your own, lips inches from yours as he groaned, "Come for me, baby, I want you to come for me, just like you used to."

He sucked your swollen lip into his mouth, leading with his chin as he listened to your strangled plea for mercy, making him chuckle in amusement.

"Come on, come for me, Y/N," he drawled out, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moaned shamelessly, your toes curling in anticipation for the release you so desperately craved. "Come for me," he repeated, his gaze flitting to your closed lids as he watched you fall apart from his ministrations. With one more rapid and harsh thrust of his skilled fingers, you moaned his name out as you came, completely soaking them with your juices.

He smirked proudly, slipping his fingers from your quivering walls which instantly made you whimper in protest. He lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking his drenched fingers between his lips to taste your sweet essence. Your body heaved against the mattress, watching intently as he tasted you, licking your lips as you heard his moan of approval, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"Mmm, it's just like I remembered it," he purred.

He released his fingers after he was sure he got every last drop, there was a wicked gleam in his eye before he lowered his lips to your nipple, taking it greedily within his hot mouth. He tortured the flesh with his tongue and mouth, alternating between nipping and sucking as his hand worked at the other, pinching and twisting. He smirked against your bud as you moaned encouragingly, spurring him on. He released you, his hand and mouth switching places, sucking upon one and thumbing the other, making you emit moan after moan.

"Only I get to touch you now, no other fucker touches what's mine, you hear me?" he rasped, growling deep from his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core as he once again wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sinking his teeth into it and making your whole body tremble with the harsh treatment.

You rocked your hips desperately against him which made him let out a strangled sound around your nipple. "Satoru," you whispered breathlessly, your head thrashing about against the sheets, his mouth and fingers completely relentless. "Please fuck me, already, stop wasting time, fuck I need you."

"That's the spirit baby," he cooed before he asked in a taunting tone, "and where do you need me exactly?"

His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked upon your flushed face, red coloring your cheeks, his warm breath hitting your tender, wet flesh, making you whimper and keen. "You miss me, don't you? You miss me filling you up, fucking you senseless into this mattress like I used to, huh? Tell me Y/N, you need to tell me," he demanded as he bumped his hips against yours, teasing you mercilessly.

"Yes, yes I miss you, I miss us, I just want to feel you inside me again," you admitted through a ragged breath. His lips curled into a smug, amused smirk, his eyes shining with dark intent. You couldn't wait any longer, you just wanted to feel him inside of you again like before.

"Of course you miss me, I knew that shithead was doing a shit job pleasing you," he taunted, "now get on your hands and knees for me," he ordered huskily.

You were quick to comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees before him, his mouth watering at the sight. He dipped his head down beside yours, his lips pressing against your ear as he whispered, "That's a good girl, fuck, I missed seeing you like this," he told you, moving to take his position behind you. His length was digging deliciously against the curve of your backside, and you curved your spine, wiggling your ass impatiently in his direction, bracing yourself on your forearms and elbows.

"Just like that, you're fucking beautiful," he purred, expressing his approval, his voice dripping with sin. He worked his hand over his rigid shaft in a few jerky movements with his fist, swiping the head of his member against your dripping sex.

"Satoru, oh fuck," you whimpered as your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, grabbing and pulling at them in your desperation. He bit back a groan as he felt your wetness come in contact with his head. His hand wrapped around your hip with a bruising grip as he finally thrust into you, sheathing himself into your wet heat with a grunt.

You gasped loudly, eyes shutting instantly and your walls closing in on him the second he slipped inside of you. You buried your head into the sheets as he stretched your inner walls in a way the man you were with never could. "Fuck," he groaned as he started rocking his hips against yours, slamming into you with a brutal, relentless force that had you bucking back up into him.

He gripped your hips tighter as he withdrew, then slowly plunged his member back in, pumping himself in and out at a frantic pace as you writhed and squirmed underneath him.

"So beautiful, who has the bigger dick? That little shithead, or me? And don't lie this time," he taunted through a drawl.

"Satoru! Yours is the biggest," you replied in a moan, mouth open wide as another cry emitted from your lips after a particularly harsh thrust, his way of expressing how much those words pleased him. "You make me feel so good, I can't get enough of your big cock," you whined as you matched the rhythm he set, though you were having trouble keeping up with him, and your hips were stuttering against his as you continued to squeeze his member greedily between your silken walls.

"That's right, and you're mine, all mine, no one's going to take you from me," he whispered as he rammed himself into your quivering, soaked entrance, the slapping of skin ringing in both of your ears. He sighed in relief when he pulled out only to surge right back in, his nails digging harshly into your hips as he yanked them closer, making sure that your whole body would be sore and aching tomorrow and that you wouldn't ever forget how he made you feel.

You moaned into the mattress as he continued to fill you, pounding you into the bed and his balls clapping against your flushed cheeks as you writhed about, fisting the sheets in your hands as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling with each heavy, rapid thrust, and you felt like you were going to combust from the heat that spread across your whole taut body. You breathed heavily as your head tilted to press your cheek against the bed, "Oh, I can't-"

Your words were swallowed by a soft cry, and you felt your walls clamp around his length, your climax threatening to burst within you.

"That's it, I want you to come for me again, come on," he urged, picking his pace up to push you over the edge. He drove himself into you over and over again, his thrusts sloppy and hips stuttering, knowing that his own release wasn't far behind. He was hitting that sweet spot with every single deep plunge, and it had you yelping out his name breathlessly as you trailed your quivering hand down until you found the spot right above where you two were joined to stimulate your engorged clit.

"That's it, touch yourself for me, baby, oh, just like that," he encouraged through a groan.

You rolled your clit around feverishly with shaking fingers as you sought release, pressing into it relentlessly and never ceasing in your movements, flicking and rubbing until you couldn't take it anymore.

With one final harsh thrust, you came with a shout, his name pouring out of your lips as your walls clenched all around his member. You bucked your hips wildly against him, and your release sparked his. He shot his thick seed up within you, filling you up with his warmth, just like he used to, his head falling against your backside as he rode out the intense waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you fell boneless against the mattress, your arms giving out on you.

He allowed himself to remain sheathed inside of you until he softened, pulling out very slowly, making you hiss between gritted teeth at the sensation. He was quick to roll you around so that you were on your back now as he joined your side, both of you panting heavily and sucking in air desperately after the intensity of your orgasms. You two laid there on the disheveled sheets, silence thick in the air, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat as you stared up at the ceiling.

All of a sudden, Gojo whipped out a dark red rose, twirling the stem between his fingers before he handed it to you with a smile on his lips.

"Thought you would like it," he told you, his voice hoarse. You smiled as you took it, a warm and fuzzy feeling swelling in your chest at the romantic gesture. Perhaps there was more to Gojo than you originally thought. You took a whiff of its aroma before you turned to him and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, I will give it some water," you replied with a chortle before you placed it on your bedside table.

"You're mine. And I'm yours. Understand?" he told you breathlessly. He reached his hand out to grab yours, entwining his fingers through it as he held it up to his mouth, placing a quick peck on it before he pulled away.

You sighed dreamily as you nuzzled your head underneath the crook of his neck, curling up into his body before you replied, soft laughs spilling through small pants, "You so love me, it's official."

He merely laughed in response as he held you close to the warmth of his body, snuggling up to you as you hummed appreciatively. He didn't need to say it for you to know it.

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onfreckledwings · 3 years

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follow up to this ❤️💚

When he wakes in the deepest recess of the night, Cas is not asleep at his side.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances around the room. He doesn’t need to turn on the light on the bedside table to know. The space next to him in the bed is cold, the room is empty.

He’s alone.

His stomach drops to the space between his knees as he pushes himself upright. His heart is a pitter-patter in his chest; the blood rushing in his ears a deafening roar.

“Cas?” Dean calls out uselessly. He swings his legs gingerly over the side of the bed and walks slowly to his door, turning the knob and stepping into the hall.

“Cas?!” He calls out again, louder this time, glancing down both sides of the corridor and listening for movement. He sees nothing, hears nothing.

His heart begins to hammer against his ribs, and his mind starts to race.

Shit.

He walks a little too quickly throughout the bunker, ignoring the pain that slams from his back through his chest at the movement, and checks the kitchen, then the library. When it’s empty too, he heads into the war room.

He spots Cas’s phone on the map table, and when he walks over to tap the screen, the time glares back at him.

2:32

Dean takes a deep breath. He thinks for a moment, and when an idea comes to him, he tosses on his jacket hanging on the back of one of the chairs.

He heads for the garage.

When Dean opens the side garage door, it creaks and groans loudly in protest. A quick scan of the woodlands behind the bunker finds Cas standing in the middle of a small clearing, wrapped in a thick, oversized blanket that trails at his feet in the frozen dirt.

Relief floods through him like waves on the ocean. His shoulders drop, tension ebbing from his muscles, and he shuts the door gently behind him instead of letting it clang against the frame.

Cas is looking up at the diamond-studded sky, and Dean smiles as he watches.

He zippers up his coat against the mid-winter chill as the breeze hits against him, swaying against the rustling branches high above. He inhales deeply, the scent of the cold air mixing with the towering bald cypress trees cleansing his lungs. He approaches Cas silently, hand reaching out to caress his back, palm gripping his shoulder gently as he stands next to him.

Cas sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.

“Hello, Dean.”

A huff of breath escapes his nose in a chuckle.

“Hey,” he smiles, letting his hand squeeze Cas’s neck affectionately. “Leave a note next time, huh? Scared the crap outta me.” He keeps his voice gentle, teasing, and Cas turns his chin to meet Dean’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says solemnly, eyes drifting to the ground before meeting his again. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Dean smiles, rubbing soothing circles against Castiel’s shoulder blade. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m just sayin’,” he murmurs, and they both turn their faces towards the sky.

It’s a cloudless night. There are stars everywhere. The moon is high and full and shining. It’s beautiful.

“All things bein’ equal?” he continues, watching Cas’s reaction in his periphery, “I’d rather you wake me up than just wakin’ without you next to me.”

Cas thins his lips into a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he casts them to the ground. Dean tries again.

“I dunno if you’ve noticed, but...I don’t need to sleep with a gun under my pillow these days. So it’s not like I’ll accidentally shoot ya.”

Cas’s eyes close then, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips as his chin drops a little to his chest. Dean can tell he’s holding something back.

The former angel is crestfallen.

Dean’s brow furrows in concern, and he wraps his hands around Cas’s wrists to tug him towards him so that they’re face to face. He lets his hands travel to frame his cheeks.

When Cas’s eyes open, they glisten with tears.

“Hey,” he whispers, crowding closer into Cas’s space. “What’s goin’ on?”

Cas makes an attempt to shake his head, to try to dismiss Dean’s worry.

“No no—” Dean says gently. “Talk to me.”

Cas screws his eyes shut, tears falling in moon-bathed streams down his cheeks before he meets Dean’s gaze.

“I’m not an angel anymore,” he murmurs quietly.

Dean’s chest aches at the pain in Cas’s voice as he tilts his head in sympathy. He sounds so small and vulnerable, but there’s something else there, too.

Dean’s thumbs stroke against Cas’s cheekbones, feather-light. “I know,” he whispers, tears of his own sneaking into his throat.

But he has to be strong.

“I can’t imagine—”

“How can I ever be enough for you like this?”

Dean freezes mid-sentence. His heart sinks before it shatters, bleeding in the space between his feet. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns, eyes widening in disbelief.

“What?”

Cas steps out of Dean’s hold, and the fallen leaves crunch beneath his feet. He wraps the blanket tighter around him as he turns to face the sky again.

The roaring in Dean’s ears return, and he stares at Cas’s profile. Nausea starts to spread and twist like ribbons in his stomach.

“I don’t have the ability to heal. I can’t teleport. I can’t...do any of the things I used to,” Cas breathes, voice firm as stone. He’s not looking for pity, not looking for anything to challenge his thoughts.

He’s just being.

Dean’s head is spinning, and he’s so flabbergasted he can’t formulate words in his mouth.

Cas turns his head to meet him again. “How could I make up for that now?” As just a human goes unspoken; but Dean hears it all the same.

In that moment, he feels the rebar ripping through his gut all over again. He steels himself against the urge to double over.

“I don’t know how to be worthy enough,” he continues, voice solemn and jaded and numb all at once. “I don’t know how to be enough—for you—as just...this.” he finishes then, glancing himself up and down, hands stretched out in a shrug before crossing his arms with the blanket again. Cas sighs heavily as he rotates on his heel to stare up at the moon, his back to Dean.

All of the air leaves his lungs. His heart speeds up a little in a panic. He stares unblinkingly at Cas’s silhouette, and the wind gusts in the woods around them. He can hear the branches rustling above, and he can see Castiel’s thick hair swaying against the wind, sticking up every which way.

His stomach rolls. His mouth goes dry.

“Enough?” Dean mumbles in a hoarse whisper, more to himself than anything else. He strides forward, grabbing onto one of Castiel’s shoulders as he walks to stand in front of him.

Cas won’t meet his eyes. He just keeps staring at the world far beyond, hidden and cloaked in darkness.

Maybe he’s looking at Heaven.

Dean sniffles and reaches both hands on Cas’s shoulders.

“How could you ever think that you ain’t enough for me?”

But if Dean’s honest with himself, he knows. He knows he’s done a pretty shit job over the years of making Cas feel valued and wanted and loved —regardless of the status of his grace.

Cas closes his eyes and sighs heavily. When he opens them, he keeps them canted to the ground between their feet. The look Dean finds on his face scares him; it’s defeated, empty.

Broken.

His shoulders sag underneath Dean’s fingers.

Castiel looks exhausted.

“Okay, look…” Dean begins, shaking Cas gently to force their eyes to meet.

“I know...I know I’ve said things, an-and done things over the years that’ve hurt you. I know we’ve had our moments. But man…”

He trails off for only a moment, letting one hand slide down Cas’s chest to fist it into his shirt, the other reaching to grasp one side of his neck.

“‘M a wreck without you,” he grits out, green eyes boring into blue. “Losin’ you...an’ every time I’ve ever lost you it just—it always almost finished me.” He pulls Cas in closer by his shirt, and Castiel’s hands fall to grip Dean’s sides to prevent himself from stumbling.

“It was never about your mojo, Cas. Ever. ‘N I’m so sorry you ever thought it was.” Dean’s eyes are watering now, and he purses his lips as he lightly punches Cas’s chest.

“It’s just always been you.”

And maybe he’s not making any sense. But Dean’s never been good with words, and his chin is trembling, and Cas’s eyes are spilling over without a blink.

They’re so fucking blue.

And Dean’s heart is tattered in pieces on the floor of his ribcage.

“You’ve always been enough.” Dean whimpers, and he lets his own tears break free through the dam of his eyelids, falling in rivulets down his stubbled cheeks.

“Just you. I need you to see that.”

He rests his cheek against Cas’s temple and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he chokes back a sob. Cas’s arms come to wrap around Dean’s middle as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Please, Cas. Please believe that.” Dean chokes out, and he knows he’s babbling now. But Cas squeezes him tighter, and Dean lets his mouth fall into the swath of skin where Cas’s neck slopes into his shoulder. He crushes Cas into him.

They cry together until there are no more tears to shed; they hold each other, mending their broken pieces and bones and marrow and flesh.

The cracks in their hearts begin to heal.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Cas’s lips are against his ear, shushing him and murmuring sweetly against the shell, hands rubbing up and down his back.

They begin to sway in each other’s arms.

“You’re it for me, Cas,” Dean sniffles. “Just you.” Not your grace, not your wings.

He pulls away to rest their foreheads together. “You hear me?”

I love you.

Castiel nods, closing his eyes before meeting green. Dean watches as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and they meet in the middle in a chaste, open-mouthed kiss. Cas’s hands come up to frame Dean’s face.

“I hear you,” Cas whispers hoarsely as they part, and he runs a hand through Dean’s hair. Dean can’t help it when his eyes flutter at the touch.

A small, cold wet sensation stuns his nose then; Dean opens his eyes and tilts his head back to see thick, fluffy snowflakes beginning to fall around them. A small chuckle escapes his throat, and Cas follows his gaze. When another snowflake lands on the bridge of Dean’s nose, Cas’s index finger comes to catch it.

Dean’s eyes fall back to his. What he finds there is marveling.

“I dunno how y’do that,” he mumbles. “Make your eyes so friggin’ blue.”

Cas just smiles through those wonderfully thick lashes. He reaches to grab one of Dean’s hands, cupping it between his own as he brings it to his lips. “It’s a gift,” he quips.

Dean chuckles with a nod, and taking advantage of their height difference, he tugs Cas forward so he can press a kiss to the muss of velvet black hair. He inhales the scent of his own shampoo that mixes with the natural essence of Castiel: earth and rain and lightning. Dean grins as Cas snuggles into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

“Wanna go back in?” he mumbles against the thick strands. Cas lets out a yawn.

“Mm-hmm.”

Dean snorts as he reaches an arm around Cas’s neck, walking them both back towards the bunker. Cas must notice him wince slightly in pain at the angle, because then he’s reaching up a hand to cover his, and there’s an arm snaking around his waist.

“Lean on me,” he commands. And it leaves no room for argument. So Dean smiles, and lets his weight sink against the man against him, who accepts it all willingly.

Just like he always has.

They’re almost at the door when Dean stills, grasping the fabric of the blanket.

“Hey,” he says. Cas stops to look at him, letting Dean turn slightly in his hold.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

The smile Cas gives him is like the Star of Bethlehem. Cas leans in, mouth ghosting his as their foreheads connect.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

#I did a thing #supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel coda #a sort of part 2 to my last fic #merry christmas everyone❤️💚

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

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Kinktober #8: under his loving gaze: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

In which Steve discovers it’s possible to love two people to the bone and still be crushed by loneliness.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (sort of) x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) VOYEURISM of the truest, you-don’t-know-you’re-being-watched kind. Vaginal sex. Male masturbation. Lots and lots of pining for not so many words.

Notes: Another one for my Marvel friends today :) The prompt for day eight is ‘Voyeurism,’ and does he ever watch. Somehow this one turned angsty. I... don’t think I’m sorry, though.

Kinktober Masterlist

Friday nights never used to be this pathetic.

Steve’s not completely sure when he got so boring. Even when he was a kid, Bucky always had one place or the other to drag him on the weekends. He’d stumble in from a backbreaking shift at the docks, c’mon Stevie, the city awaits, and Steve never really wanted to go, but it was Bucky’s sweat that paid for the roof over their heads, so he never felt good about saying no.

These days, though, his idea of fun is an evening pouring over his briefings. Letting the security footage from the compound flick idly across the monitor. He doesn’t need to watch it. Not when there’s an AI system more sophisticated than any on the planet monitoring their premises.

But Steve’s always been a little old-fashioned.

Tonight, there’s something else on his mind. It’s not something that should be plaguing his thoughts, but his brain doesn’t often listen when he decides he doesn’t want to think about something.

“Gonna be taking your post again tonight, Captain?” Tony’s voice, no matter how genuine, always felt edged with an air of mockery. Tonight’s dinner had been no different. Above the idle chatter surrounding plans for the weekend, he’d decided to speak up.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam had asked, quirking an eyebrow in Steve’s direction with a bite of chicken-something (prepared by Vision) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve remembers low dread curling in his gut at the snappy response from Tony, knowing he was setting up for a lethal blow. “Steve’s been watching all of you do the nasty.”

After his cheeks had gone an appropriate shade of maroon, Steve sputtered through the rest of dinner, insisting that there weren’t any security cameras installed in private areas of the compound.

Then again, based on the way that Tony’s eyes had sparkled once he let the subject drop, Steve isn’t so sure anymore.

The mystery of whether seems hell-bent on keeping Steve from getting any work done tonight. Any time he so much as lowers his eyes to the page, the question plagues intently at the corners of his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same briefing line at least a dozen times before he gives up and pushes the papers aside.

He’s just going to have to figure it out. Once and for all. He slumps over the edge of the desk, taking the mouse in one oversized hand and navigating to the edge of the window that he’s got open- flicking through the normal course of security footage. Front door, hallways, kitchen, gym, garden, repeat.

Steve is not blessed with extensive computer knowledge. But he knows that the black bar at the top of the screen, scrawled with words like file, edit, preferences, refers to a list of possible commands. So he keeps clicking through them, scrolling through each option until he finds something that points him in the right direction.

Under the view tab there’s another series of options. After mousing over one called ‘cycle settings,’ he realizes that the current feeds cycling through the monitor are only one option of many.

His eyes find ‘quarters’ far more quickly than he would care to admit. For an honest moment he sits there, cursor highlighting the option. He chews hard at his lower lip.

It wouldn’t be right. It would be a violation of privacy. But it’s Friday night. Steve’s willing to bet that hardly anyone is even home at the moment. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

Oops, he thinks to himself as he clicks, curiosity getting the best of him. My hand slipped.

The feed that pops up before him is, as he expected, mostly empty. Some of the bedrooms are unused, showing bare rooms with bare mattresses and naked walls. Even the ones that are designated to his teammates are mostly unoccupied right now, some beds neatly made, some haphazardly rumpled.

There’s a flicker of motion out the corner of his eye that draws Steve’s attention. His heart clenches. Hard.

It’s your room. And you’re there, but you’re not alone.

The relationship that you have with Bucky is no secret. You connected with one another right away, finding peace in one another and happiness. You’ve turned Bucky into a shred of the man he used to be- smiling, grabbing for you in the kitchen, holding you close when you gather in the common room to watch movies or binge Seinfeld.

Steve’s supposed to be happy for you. Both of you. The two most important people in the world to him have found happiness with one another.

But he can’t help the rush of greed that consumes him every time you’re in front of him. Every time you put that love so proudly on display.

He wants you both for himself.

He clicks on the feed and it quickly expands to fill the entire monitor. This way, it’s easier for him to see the way Bucky looks, laid out on top of your stretched body. His knees are between your thighs, and though his hair hides your faces in a sweep of chestnut, his body doesn’t hide the way his hands are currently working themselves under the edge of your tank top, crawling up your ribcage as he kisses you like a man starved.

Based on the angle of the feed, Steve can surmise that the camera is probably situated in the control panel by your door. He should have guessed. Tony’s a sneaky bastard at the best of times. And the concept of boundaries has always been a foreign one to anybody named ‘Stark.’

Bucky rucks your shirt up over your bare chest. Steve swallows hard. He glances over his shoulder to make sure the door to his study is closed, then turns his attention back to the screen. Bucky’s palming one of your breasts, but he’s already kissed his way down to your chest and sucks attentively at the other one.

He’s worshipping your body. God, he’s so in love with you. Steve’s not sure which one of you he wishes he could be. Both. Neither. He wants to be in the middle.

His cock is already beginning to twitch to life inside his stiff chinos, and he shifts a little to palm the growing swell of it down one thigh. His mind is working a mile a minute- wrestling between how badly he knows he shouldn’t be doing this and how badly he wants to anyway.

Bucky tugs your sweatpants down over your hips in one swift motion and Steve reaches for his fly. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

It’s not like you’re going to look over and see him there, peering at you from the other side of the camera.

He’s just thankful that there’s no sound, or he would have definitely lost it by now. He can see the way your lips are moving, though, and imagines what you might be saying to each other. Are you tender? Dirty? He wants to know it all.

Bucky’s got your pants off now, and he’s shimmying out of his shirt, too. Steve tries hard not to admire the graceful dip and swell of his best friend’s muscles. He’s loved Bucky since he was a chubby-cheeked kid, and he wished that neither of them had ever been touched by any of this. But Bucky’s beautiful now, gorgeous in a way that Steve will never be. He handles his new mass with elegance.

The dull silver glint of a dog tag dangles from Bucky’s throat as he crawls up your body again, shucking down his pants. Steve’s already digging through the fabric in his lap, pushing the folds of his pants aside and pulling out his cock. He can’t stop. It’s like his limbs are moving all their own.

You’re both naked now. To Steve, it’s like a trip to the Louvre. Priceless artwork laid out for him alone. Both your bodies are so perfect. He never knew that he could want two things, two people so badly, but to choose between you would be to choose between breath and heartbeat.

He grips the base of his cock and groans as he watches Bucky line up. He’s so careful with you, worshipping your body at every turn. He slips his metal hand beneath your thigh, intertwining his flesh fingers with yours. He leans down to kiss you, so slow and soft it makes Steve’s chest ache to watch.

He’s seen the two of you kiss before. But this is an intimate moment, meant to be shared by just the two of you. For an instant it hits Steve how intrusive this is, to be looking in on a ritual as tender and sacred as this one.

Bucky’s hips ease forward, clean lines of muscle sinking into the sides of his thighs. Steve’s hand gives an involuntary jerk. He needs this- no- deserves this- and what you never find out won’t hurt you.

For all the softness that Bucky’s shown you in the lead-up he settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding rhythmically into your body as your legs twine around his hips to pull him in. It’s even more beautiful to watch from afar, and Steve quickly matches the rhythm of your lovemaking with his fist, pumping his hips into a closed hand and slicking the fluid that leaks from his tip up and down the length of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he gasps, despite himself. “fuuuck.”

Bucky lasts longer than he does.

Steve can’t help himself. Bound by nothing but his own pleasure, he cums fast. His thighs hit the underside of his desk as he swears and jerks and tugs on his cock, bucking his hips into nothing and spurting quick bursts over his fingers and palm. The pleasure that rushes his system is little compared to what he’d feel if he were with you, but… it’s all he can bear to take for himself.

He stays to watch the two of you finish, transfixed by the way Bucky’s hand slips between your legs and your mouth pops open in a silent cry. Even without hearing you he can tell when you’ve hit your peak- your whole body shivers and he fucks you through it, calm and steady as the tide.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, though, and Steve watches in awe. Bucky draws up so tight before he cums it looks like he’s going to snap, all the tendons and muscles in his body stretched to the breaking point. And when it hits him, he collapses forward, thrusting madly into you before his knees go shaky and he just buries himself to the hilt and stops. He trembles against you. Trails kisses down your whole body. And when he pulls out, his softening cock is followed by a handful of fluid- so much- and Steve comes back to himself so quickly he closes the entire security program and unplugs the desktop.

The weight of what he’s just done settles over his shoulders. But, fuck, he loved it. The image of you and Bucky and your bodies moving as one is printed permanently into his mind.

As he cleans himself up and gets dressed again, he wishes there was a way for him to make you both see. If he could just show you how much he adores you, both of you, maybe you’d let him in. If you knew that he didn’t want to come between you, maybe things would be different.

For tonight, though, all he’ll have is stolen memories. And for now, it has to be enough.

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #MCU #captain america x reader #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #bucky

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ignisnocturnalia · 3 years

Text

Hehehe I lied, but it is here now! Had a crisis about being done with my Band director's bull and wanting a grade on something really bad, did the former and decided to simply disintegrate once Friday hit. Drifter HCs will follow this, also may I say Caiatl. That is all.

Nokris x Reader

“You are a child reaching for a flame; the Taken Queen would not have you burnt.”

You were on point during the Strange Terrain strike, but you had never thought you would run into Nokris again. Granted, you realized, his death was on the physical plain while his Throne World still stood. Considering he never directly addressed you, you assumed that he either didn’t remember you or he chose not to, as oddly disappointing as that would be. The timbre of his voice unsettled you, but it was not as wracking as Xol’s; in fact, it was rather pleasing to hear.

The proposition itself was unexpected, and against Eris’s previous warnings you stopped to listen to what the Hive heretic had to say. Trekking quietly along the broken path of the distorted realm, you stopped occasionally to stare at blights littered over walls and floating in the air to see if you could catch a glimpse of the desecrated prince. The telltale sign of Taken emerging from their portals filled the air, and you genuinely prayed that you’re next decision was a wise one.

Your ghost was probably screaming on the inside as you placed your guns to the floor, bringing your hands into the air while staring into the gleaming eye of a Knight. Grabbing your arm roughly, it tugged you through a massive doorway leading to a room that was strikingly similar to the Court of Oryx back at the Dreadnaught. The portal at the center of the room shimmered invitingly as the bony bastard himself came out; even in death, he appeared to be in his prime.

“I see you have heeded my advice; come, hope of the Light, see the Darkness.”

His claws are cold as he grasps at your shoulders despite the solar flame surging over his arms. Feeling bold, you let your own solar light extend past your body, lying comfortably across his neck with a warm glow. As a creature who worships the Darkness facing a servant of the Light, he reasonably withdraws with a hiss at your gesture

You won’t say it out loud because he obviously carries himself with extreme pride, but you can’t help but feel bad for him. How can one person be an exiled son, heretic, servant, and now puppet?

“I won’t serve Savathûn. But I think I wouldn't mind spending time with you.” Before he can question you, you are promptly pulled from the realm by Eris.

Cue Vanguard interrogation once you return to the Tower. The talk is so egregiously long you make a move that would make Cayde damn proud: “GuArDiAn, We’Re NoT yEt FiNiShEd WiTh ThIs DiScUsSiOn!” Hopefully your shining reputation will save you from any dire repercussions...

Tracing your steps back to where you first met, you look around suspiciously following the lack of noise inside the Hive breeding grounds. You had cut your comm ages ago, the constant ping of Commander Zavala’s hailing grating your ears. The ground beneath your feet crunched wetly with every step, and distantly you heard the first Hive screech. Turning in a guess to the source of the sound, you set off in a quick pace, gun in your hand.

Upon entering a new chamber, you froze in surprise as you saw Nokris lifting a Knight by the throat. Taken magic pooled in his palm and raced over the armor of the smaller Hive, the bone turning black and a bright white glow shimmering across its legs. Still gripping the soldier, Nokris slowly angled his head to look down at you.

“Little. Light.” Dropping the Knight with no grace, his imposing form closed in on you with haste. Before you could take a step back, his claws came up to close around your jaw and upper neck. The rough of his talons dug into your armor, and for a moment you worried he would pop off your helmet and let your blood boil throughout your body in the harsh atmosphere. Instead, he pulled you closer to his face and brought up his free hand to grasp your forearm.

Nokris easily dwarfed you; even if you stood on your own shoulders you wouldn’t be taller than him. Passively, your thighs rubbed against each other at the realization. A detail he decided he would catch. Teasing mirth danced in his three eyes, hidden malice swimming just behind small organs. Internally, you were probably going to pop your helmet off yourself if you got kink shamed by a Hive prince of all things.

You squeaked quietly in surprise as he lifted you off the ground, the hand on your lower face readjusting to your hip. His hand, quite literally, engulfed your midsection as he brought you closer to him for inspection. This close, you could see every imperfection on his face. Second hand leaving your arm, you shivered as the prince ran a digit up the side of your leg and continued his way up, stopping thoughtfully at the junction of your jaw.

Staring into the glowing green embers of his eyes, there was no mistaking the murderous glint in them. At the same time, curiosity had made its home among his more dangerous faculties.

"You found me once, you came to me twice. Find me again, at the other side in the field of ash under the dark tower.” Letting you to the floor, Nokris turned his back and departed to Traveler knows where through the portal with the long forgotten Knight. Sinking to your knees in stunned silence, you looked down as a nearly imperceptible squeal broke the quiet. In front of you, was a Hive worm.

“No.” Before you could even speak, your Ghost gave its earful.

“I can’t not take it! I probably need it to find him. Either way, I told you one of these worms would be coming home eventually, look at its wittle face.” Your Ghost made gagging noises as you fawned over the wriggling creature you held between your hands. Tucking the three eyed larva under your arm, you set out to find the way back out.

____________________________________________

The next week felt like hell. The worm continued to get bigger with every mission you went on and keeping it a secret from the Vanguard was close to impossible. You had been wracking your brain for the answer to his riddle, and to be completely honest, it made you feel inadequate that you couldn’t figure it out. You knew the other side meant the Ascendant Realm, but what was the dark tower? Where was the field of ash? You had initially thought it was at Skywatch, what with the Hive ship jutting out of the ground and the small pile of chitin inside the cave not too far away, but there wasn’t enough ash for it to be a field, nor was it under the ship point.

It wasn’t until a light snow dusted the Tower one evening that it all clicked. He didn’t mean ash ash. He meant snow!

In a rush to the hangar, you waved a hasty goodbye to Holliday and transmatted into your ship, pulling out a layer of blankets to reveal your now cat sized worm. The grub squeed and reached its head up to your palm, crawling sluggishly into your hands. Holding the worm to your chest, you settled down in the pilot ship and gave your Ghost to plot a course. There was only one place on Earth constantly coated in snow with a structure that could be considered a dark tower.

“Ghost, set course for the Plaguelands. He’s at the Doomed Sea.”

You hadn’t been to the ravaged lands since the Siva Crisis; the whole territory gave you heebie jeebies. And yet, you were returning because one of humanity’s imminent threats wanted a chat that, realistically, ended with your head rolling on the floor.

The closer you got to your destination, the more restless the worm in your arms got. In fact, you could swear it was whispering something. Your skin crawled for a moment as you felt the phantom brush of his claw up your leg.

The moment your feet touched the ground, the world around you stuttered as the colors faded into grayscale, giving way to the Ascendant landscape. Below you, there was no mistaking the keen whispers of the worm. Its words were encouraging in a macabre way, praise and blatant lies; speaking of how well you fed it, talents being wasted on a god that heeds you not, urging you towards the ominous building looming over the shoreline.

Dust swept across at a rapid pace, as usual, in the warped realm. Coming up to the alcove, you saw him with his back turned to you. In a smooth turn, he faced you at last. Beautiful, blazing emeralds.

Relationship HCs

His idea of a relationship has wildly different parameters than any normal human would put up with

No matter where you are, or what you're doing, you can feel him at the back of your mind like a fog; it's a bit disconcerting to hear him talk in your head at first, but it becomes normal and he's actually quite helpful when you're out on missions

He expects you to help him study thanatonautics since you can die and be brought back within moments, but that's up to if you have enough charisma to convince your Ghost to let your bone boyfriend crush your skull repeatedly to see what you can learn about death

The relationship feels more like a symbiotic one rather than a romantic one, but you occassionally catch him practicing human gestures you've seen couples perform in public if he's feeling particularly good on a day

You're probably the only person who listens to him talk about all of his schtick and is able to give viable feedback; he is more thankful than he will let on about this fact

He does not like it when you try blocking him off from your thoughts and will demand to know everything you've done in the day when you see him again. In his perspective, he thinks you're trying to leave him behind like everyone else has

Will not handhold, because his hand can literally fit around your torso and because he thinks it's weird. He will, however, carry you places if you're going the same direction

He also thinks kissing is weird, but will (surprisingly!) actually let you give him kisses on his teeth; the sensation of soft flesh on his cold bones is unusual, but something he finds utterly riveting. Not that he'd let you know

Also doesn't like the amount of straight barbarity you inflict on the battlefield, but can appreciate your efficiency with your job; this is him silently worrying about your safety but refusing to acknowledge his crush on the flame throwing ape

His communication regarding affection is terrible, and if you couldn't tell shame on you. His favorite thing about you, that you will never hear from him or anyone else, is your face. He likes the way it changes into different expressions, the life in your eyes, and your lips because Hive physically cannot emote as expressively as humans do; you are an open book he has yet to read, adding new pages everyday

Nsfw 👁👄👁

First off, however you get the size difference to work, congratulations. His height over you is something he enjoys immensely when you two get into it, and it goes without saying he also likes how you "hug" him

He will fuck anywhere, literally anywhere. The floor? Yes. Against the wall? Yes. Hope you're somewhat of an exhibitionist, because he is not ashamed if any of his or Savathûn's troops walk in on you and will keep going

He bites a lot, and is not afraid to make you bleed because your Ghost can just patch you right up

Likewise, he will scratch you everywhere but he does stop to play with the softer spots

He is rough and fast, going after his own release rather than yours; however, he has high stamina so chances are you'll be overstimulated before he finishes

Absolutely a dom, he will not meet in the middle about anything of sexual nature

If you don't actively fight for your life during his build up, he will take that as the go ahead. He may be a Hive heretic, but he has standards

You don't really have the opportunity to find his sensitive spots as he usually restrains your arms, holding them above your head or pinning them down at your sides

He rarely makes actual noises, but he does hiss lowly whenever he makes particularly hard thrusts

He knows that copulation won't result in little Hive/Human hybrids running around with his blood in their veins, so 9 times out of 10 he will hilt himself and come inside you

Fluff

Uhhh, a w k w a r d

Anything that's fluffy is strictly delivered by you, and occasionally returned by Nokris since he doesn't get the point of such pleasantries

If you're fast enough, he will never get upset if you can sneak up on him for a smooch

Whatever he is doing, if you are available he much prefers having you by his side to have an extra set of eyes to help him observe (at least that's what he says)

Since his physical marks are healed quickly, he gifts you odds and ends from old planets his people have pillaged and little items you can wear on noticeable places

Hides it very well, but is extremely thrilled when you come to him when you want to do or learn something new

When you're particularly frustrated by something, he will comb his claws through your hair to his best abilities

Whenever you're with him, his demeanor is typically calmer; Savathûn's presence and influence over him is highly diminished in the face of your Light

The one thing he will willingly do with you that's remotely romantic is stargazing; not because of the romantic element, oh no, but because he wants to catalogue any changes and is very invested in teaching you about space faring

Has nicknames for you like Little Light or >Insert any game seal<

#destiny 2 #relationship headcanon #nokris #nokris x reader #eris morn #oryx the taken king #commander zavala #savathûn

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chews-erotically · 3 years

Photo

Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

* Warnings: Angst, violence, SMUT/ threesome mmf/ fingering/ oral (m/f, f/f), assault, PTSD, Very Dark Thoughts

* Summary: Negotiation, implementation, consternation, consequences

* Word Count: ~2500k

PART FOURTEEN

You tread your new dynamic with care and consideration. Ezra asked you, again and again, if you were sure. He knew people got jealous, no matter how open they may seem to experimentation at the outset. Ezra has been around, of that he’s made no qualms of reminding you. He’d seen arrangements blown up in both the heat of passion and in the dry planning stages. He professed to you in a million different ways that he would sooner lose a limb than jeopardize your partnership.

“If this is to have even a whisper of eventual occurrence, Dovie, the channels of communication must remain patent and our exchanges honest. There must be not one shred of doubt and uncertainty. I have seen the strongest of unions crumble to dust through the mismanaged impropriety of baser desires.”

His eyes were warm, yet somber. The uptick at the corner of his mouth belied the serious set of his features. You knew he had concerns. His hands grasped yours, your knees canted toward one another as you sat on your couch.

You trusted him implicitly. You had never been in a situation such as the hypothetical you were now navigating. Your past dalliances had not lacked variety, however they had not been frequent. Indeed, before Ezra you had been without physical intimacy for well over two years.

From the beginning, you had discussed ground rules. Ezra relayed and reinforced to you, during each careful conversation, that you must be in agreement with one another for every step of this new equation.

“I will ask you ad nauseum for your explicit consent in all doings, Dove,” his hand caught your wrist and stroked a broad thumb over your pulse point. “We must ask the same of whomever we entwine ourselves with. It truly is the crux of all pleasure, of the give and take of Eros. To know that what all parties deign to both imbibe and impart is agreed upon and accepted.”

“I understand, Ez.”

Perhaps at least as important as the concept of consent to Ezra was the unity with which you were to approach any and all potential arrangements.

“There must be no part of this endeavor in which we are not together,” his voice was calm and even, filled with soft affection as he rubbed your fingers between his palms. His eyes enveloped you, drawing your own gaze into deep and hypnotic pools. “I will do nothing, my gaze will not linger on another without you beside me. I will ask the same of you. Nothing is to transpire without each of our individual presences within one another’s orbit.”

You both further discussed your terms over the course of the next several days. Ezra wanted your absolute certainty; the faintest doubt in your mind must be immediately and honestly expressed the moment it arose. You discussed your limits, safe words. Your frank conversation often left you both inflamed, tearing at clothing and gasping into each other’s hungry mouths as he impaled you on his cock, whispering a continuance of your plans that left you groaning and grunting like a desperate animal against any surface he’d seen fit to take you against.

You had initially brought up the idea of another couple; Ezra had immediately vetoed. He explained that the dynamics would be too touchy, perhaps volatile. Involving another couple may lend complications to what could be construed as an already precarious adventure.

“Not for the first time, Dove. Men in love, even in lust often house a primal directive to possess and claim. I will not place you or any other in such a position, at least for our first time.”

It did not matter to Ezra whether your first partner was male, female or elsewhere on the gender continuum; he relayed he’d had pleasurable encounters with all persuasions. He left it up to you.

After some careful consideration you’d settled on engaging with a female for your first time. You loved Ezra more than the moon and stars, but there was something about the curves and soft, pillowy flesh of a willing and open woman that brought heat to your chest and caused a buzzing in your brain that left your blood rushing in your ears and your mouth dry.

He’d flashed his Cheshire smile at your declaration and enveloped you in a crushing embrace, whispering devotionals against the crook of your neck.

******

The girl you’d found was tall, nearly Ezra’s height. She wore a sequined dress that glittered like a garnet against the light of the soft Edison bulbs on your end tables. Her laugh was musical, it reminded you of wind chimes made of hollow bone. She laughed often; this was what had drawn you to her.

She’d been leaning back on the bar of the club you’d spent weeks visiting. It was a small, intimate location festooned with antique rococo furniture draped in tapestries of purple and scarlet. You’d taken your time, easing into the sophisticated atmosphere, acquainting yourselves with staff and regular patrons. The rhythm of the location was languid, sensuous. You could almost picture nude, rubenesque concubines reclining against the velvet couches while old-world Jazz plucked tinkling notes in the incensed air. It was perfect, and the intimate setting was ripe for measuring the potential of the various patrons who walked through its doors.

So, it was the joyous, full-bodied laughter that had drawn you to her. Ezra let you take the lead, staying back to watch you. You ingratiated yourself to her easily, offering her a drink that she gladly accepted. As you both made your way to the ornate couch upon which Ezra perched, you noted him watching intently, lids hooded, finger idly stroking the lip of the glass in his hand. His eyes were tide pools, drawing you to him, hypnotizing.

Predatory.

And so the girl, named Andra, sat betwixt you as you began your dance. You flirted shamelessly, throwing your head back, leaning forward to give her a glimpse of what was underneath. You noticed her gaze linger there, and felt your adrenaline spike. You took a chance and brushed the knuckles of one hand against the side of her knee as you reached for your drink. The knee moved to press against yours.

Ezra was much quieter than usual, allowing you to steer the conversation. He’d chime in occasionally, but for the most part his gaze lingered on your animated face. His eyes smoldered, his arm extended down the length of the back of the couch.

At one point you stood, excusing yourself to the restroom. Andra excused herself as well. You entered the unisex fresher and before you had time to react Andra had you pressed against a stall door, her hands in your hair, her tongue curling into your startled gasp. You froze only momentarily before returning her kiss, framing her own soft face with your hands.

Your lips tangled for endless moments before you came back to yourself, forcing a break as you reluctantly pulled away. You both panted in silence, chests rising and falling in rapid succession, before Andra spoke.

“I like you.” her smile was small, shy. The brazenness had melted away with interruption of affection.

You huffed out a laugh.

“I like you too,” you paused, considering. “Do you like him as well?”

Her soft chuckle was an echo of yours.

“He’s very handsome.”

“I agree.” You grasped her hand in yours, meeting her gaze. Your eyes became serious, your words measured like sordid currency.

“Would you like to come home with us, Andra?”

She would be delighted to, she replied. She really never did things like this, she said. She kept mostly to herself, but she had just received word that she had been approved for a loan to open a private art gallery. She felt like celebrating.

“She feels like celebrating, Ezra,” you quipped when you returned. He immediately stood, nodded once, paid the tab. He pulled you aside briefly before you left to walk home.

“Sweet girl, I cannot help but notice your lips are swollen, almost as if from some form of vigorous contact…” he whispered, his expression unreadable.

You shrugged. “She kissed me in the bathroom. It took me by surprise.”

His gaze darkened, lips set in a grim line. Your heart jumped into your throat.

“Always together, remember? Rule one.”

You found it difficult to meet his eyes when they burned into you like hot ash.

“I’m...sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again. I lost myself.”

“It’s okay to lose yourself, Dovie, just don’t jeopardize the trust we’ve agreed upon so ardently.” his hand grasped your chin, tilting your face to his as his lips ghosted over yours.

“I love you so fucking much.”

******

“Look what you’re doing to our lovely conquest, Dove,” Ezra cooed, his chest slicked with sweat, one hand slowly pumping up and down his engorged cock. He knelt behind you, fingers in your quivering cunt as you lapped at Andra spread out and eager while your mouth worked her. You flattened your tongue and alternated long, slow licks with wrapping your lips around her hard little bud. Andra was keening, sobbing, canting her hips up toward you as you desperately worked to take in the flood of slick that poured out of her.

You thrust your hips back forcefully as you came up for air. Your mouth and chin was drenched in her come, it was intoxicating and made you feel feral. You were working toward your third orgasm of the night, having already come twice just from the friction of your grinding clit on the surface of the blanket beneath you. Ezra leaned forward to capture your mouth, moaning at the taste of your eager lover.

“See how she falls apart so easily for you, legs quivering uncontrollably? She’s soaking the sheets beneath her. She cannot begin to keep those gorgeous noises from spilling, much like the slick from her twitching hole..”

You cried out, lost in the feeling of being tugged so deliciously both forward and backward between warring sensations.

You felt the blunt head of Ezra’s cock at your trembling entrance, and you pushed back one again, desperate for him to fill you as the head of his cock nudged against your clit, then notched at your tight, soaked entrance.

You groaned loudly into the weeping slit before you as he sheathed himself inside of you and when his hips finally made contact with the backs of your legs, you bucked against him.

“Fuck, Ezra,” you sobbed. “So fucking good oh my fucking gods….”

He remained still as you fucked yourself back onto his turgid length once, twice, three times and then the wire pulled tight within you was snapped again, your arms trembling violently before you collapsed forward, gasping and screaming into the soaked blankets beneath you. Andra scrambled up the mattress and shuffled back to where you were connected. You felt her hands on your hitching ass as you spasmed uncontrollably around Ezra’s hard, slick cock.

Ezra was moaning as he went deeper, grinding his hips up and down against your spasming cunt as your come flooded out around where he speared into you.

“Ooooooooh yes, oh yes beautiful girl, let it out for me, soak this fucking cock, you feel so fucking good, you get so fucking tight when you come on my dick like this..”

As you came down from your high, your hips dropped and you lay almost motionless except for the aftershocks that coursed through you.

You heard Ezra moan again and turned with dazed interest to glance over your shoulder, where you observed Andra taking Ezra’s cock down her throat. She bobbed on it, taking down an impressive amount of his length as her hand massaged his balls.

Ezra’s expression was one of concentration, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open as he gasped as he was drawn, again and again, into her mouth.

You watched the scene in front of you, and it occurred to you that there was a complete stranger giving Ezra pleasure, that it was someone other than you. You felt confused. Why did it feel like this so suddenly, when only moments before you’d enthusiastically had your entire mouth on her clit, your tongue inside of her?

It didn’t bother you then, so why now?

The longer you lay there, the more discomfort you felt. You didn’t like it. Wordlessly, you extricated yourself from the bed and silently donned your silk robe. You stood at the foot of the bed and observed what was happening before you, your skin growing tighter and tighter the longer you stared.

What is wrong with me? This is okay, it was what you’d agreed upon.

The longer you tried to deny it, the stronger the waves of deep, red tumult built and crashed around your foggy mind.

“....Dove?” a hesitant question, unsure. Ezra had stilled, almost frozen on the bed. His eyes were dilated, blown black, but there was a very specific brand of concern etching his features. Andra watched you warily, as if suddenly aware that she’d waded into some unspoken, uncertain territory. You watched her begin to back off the bed slowly, as if distancing herself from an apex predator.

You felt storms building; you struggled to steady your breath, chest heaving. You felt control slip from your tenuous grasp.

You felt rage.

Ezra had talked about the dark force of possession, of needing to own and claim among men in such arrangements as this.

You realized this applied to women just as well.

Ezra was yours, this woman had him in her mouth, your cock was inside of her, this strange woman you’d just met who dared to give him pleasure while you were RIGHT. THERE.

Your mind was blank, your perception of movement coming to you like frames in an old slide projector.

Click.

You stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and expression blank.

Click.

You vaguely saw Ezra move from the bed and grab his pants. He was confused, eerily silent.

Click.

You had just a moment to process the sudden look of shock and panic that crossed Andra’s face as your hands wrapped around her neck.

There was shouting, Andra’s face was red, turning purple, her hands scrabbling desperately to break the vice-like grip of your fingers pressing into her throat, her eyes bulging. Her heartbeat was a fluttering bird beneath you, a pitiful animal caught in a snare.

Larger hands were grabbing at you, the shouting continued. You could not make out the words, so hypnotized were you by the sight of panicked, waning consciousness before you.

You were flung backward, your hands pried roughly off of yielding flesh, your grip faltering.

Your back hit the wall. Ezra was staring at you with wide eyes. He looked terrified.

Andra was just to the left of numb terror, gasping and sobbing the breath back into her burning lungs.

You looked down at your hands, clenched and shaking. Your whole body shaking.

You were a monster.

You turned, stumbling desperately through the doorway and into the hall.

You pulled the robe tight around you and rushed out, out of everything, attempting to leave yourself behind.

Running.

Tags: @ifimayhaveaword, @rzrcrst, @absurdthirst, @cinewhore, @hopelikethesun, @yespolkadotkitty, @sin-djarin, @lackofhonor, @din-damn-djarin, @mrpascals, @theocatkov, @thefineandnobleartofavoidance, @hellojustheretolookatmeemees, @cyaredindjarin, @im-like-reallythirsty, @mstgsmy, @goldafterglow, @givemethatgold, @shaqbutt, @sirianisrock, @artemiseamoon, @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost, @f0rever15elf, @opheliaelysia, @qveenbvtch, @hdlynn, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @spacegayofficial, @ezraslittlebirdie, @ezrasarm, @ezraslittleblondestreak, @tintinwrites, @kindablackenedsuperhero, @darthadeline, @alexisinorbit, @knittingqueen13, @lueurnotes, @xakilicious, @keeper0fthestars, @huliabitch, @di-kut, @zombieaurora, @corrupt-fvcker, @cryptkeepersoul, @teaofpeach, @thestreamergirl, @frannyzooey, @mndalorians, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @heatherbel, @the-feckless-wonder, @millllenniawrites, @revolution-starter, @melon-eyes, @kiwi-the-first

#chews-erotically #chews-erotically writes #ezra fic #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #Waxing Gibbous

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detectiveidiotboy · 3 years

Text

His Time In The Commonwealth III: Deacon's Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

it is now time for part three of this little mini series i have. now that we’ve seen what happened to nick, let’s see how good ol’ deacon ended up where he is...

Deacon stood in the center of the burning remains of the Mercer Safehouse, staring at the man who set the place on fire not two hours earlier. The arsonist's back was turned, cropped black hair shining in the red-and-yellow flashes of the house fire. A woman crawled out from the debris - a synth who’d arrived just weeks before. She was shouldering a sobbing agent with cracked, bloody glasses and leg twisted backward. The man raised his rifle and gunned the two women down with an honest-to-god smile on his face.

Nate, you are one fucked up guy, Deacon thought as he stepped over the burning remains of an agent trapped under a beam.

“Deacon? Is that you?” Nate turned, eyes shining against the flames illuminating the light. “I thought I’d run into you sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Deacon snarked, unstrapping his shotgun from his back, “I’ve been a little hard to pin down lately - Dez was always the one who assigned my ops in my downtime, but she’s been pretty distracted lately. You know, being dead ‘n all.”

“Morbid.” Nate chuckled. “I always did like your sense of humor.”

“I’ve been told I’m one hell of a comedian.”

Deacon pressed the barrel of his shotgun against Nate’s chest. The man stared at him, seeming far more interested than worried about the twelve gage of death aimed at his sternum. Nate was tough shit - but even he couldn’t survive getting all his organs blasted out by a point-blank shotgun round. At least, that was the hope Deacon clung to. “So, you wanna die here? Or is there somewhere else you want me to shoot you?”

“A surprisingly generous offer,” Nate said, lowering the gun with a finger, “but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have more important things to do than help you get some petty revenge.”

“Sorry, not happening,” Deacon cocked the gun, raising the barrel until it rested just beneath Nate’s chin. “Actually, you know what, nah - I’m not sorry at all.”

“I assumed not,” Nate said, raising his hands. “Fine, Deacon.” He said with a sigh. “If this is really how you want things to go, then shoot me - but wouldn’t you rather know why I’m doing what I’m doing?”

“Nope,” Deacon said as he blasted the fucker’s head off his body.

Except, that wasn’t entirely what happened. Nate stumbled back, almost fell over entirely, but despite the scattershot tearing through his throat just seconds before, his head was still stubbornly attached to his body. Nate laughed, slowly rolling his head forward until it was back on top of his shoulders, smiling widely. Deacon’s own vindictive smile dropped as he lowered the gun. “Shit… you really are immortal.” He said.

“That’s right,” Nate said in a sing-song voice. “Immortal and invulnerable. I’m basically the closest thing this world has to a god,” He laughed as he took a step forward, and Deacon took one back. “Now, since your idea was a miserable failure, let’s try mine.” He said, stretching his legs on the tips of his toes and clasping his hands behind his back. “Don’t you want to hear the reason behind my supposed betrayal?”

Deacon answered Nate’s question by bashing the butt of his gun against the psychotic killer’s face. Nate, momentarily stunned, staggered to the side and Deacon was able to retreat back towards the woods that surrounded the safehouse. At the very least he could act as bait to lure Nate away from any possible survivors. It was the least he could do for them, since he was the one who brought their murderer into the fold.

All of this was Deacon’s fault; he’d accepted the risk when he brought Nate on board. Desdemona had told him it was a bad plan - hell, P.A.M had reservations about it. Deacon should have listened to the future-telling robot instead of trusting his own chronically poor judgment. It had just seemed too good to be true - a supposedly immortal killing machine who resented authority and had a major bone to pick with the Institute? It was like the Atom itself had popped down into the Commonwealth and built them a savior out of clay and nuclear ash. Deacon couldn’t have let an opportunity like that go - and really, he’d asked himself, what was the worst that could happen?

Apparently, the worst that could happen was that the Brotherhood of Steel made their little savior an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now Tom, Desdemona, Glory, P.A.M… hell even Cartington ! They were all gone. Deacon hadn’t been at the base at the time of the attack - Nate had seen to that. Told him to head over to Sanctuary for a surprise. Well, surprise! Everyone Deacon loved was dead. He didn’t know - nor did he care - why he was spared; the only thing that mattered now was putting a stop to Nate before even more lives were lost, both synth and human alike.

Deacon dodged and weaved through the trees. He could hear Nate following him not far behind. It wasn’t long before Deacon’s lungs were straining and each breath was like a stab in the chest - god dammit he was a spy , not a runner. His body was not designed for prolonged exercise. Deacon’s heart was beating in his throat by the time he was forced to slow down. He’d put some distance between him and Nate, but it wouldn’t last. Nate never exhausted, Deacon had seen evidence of that. His stamina was endless - must come standard as part of the whole ‘god among men’ package.

Deacon reached into his pocket and pressed down on a button. It was the last stealth boy he had, and it wasn’t entirely full. It gave him only a few seconds to breathe while he tried to figure out his next move. To his right there were woods, to his left… more woods, and in front of him was, as one might guess, a large expanse of woods. Deacon wasn’t nearly as familiar as he needed to be with this part of the Commonwealth, his basic mental map was insufficient for a midnight life-or-death sprint.

He had less than ten seconds left on the stealth boy. Deacon could hear Nate closing in, so he did the only thing he could think of and backed himself up against the bark of an irradiated tree. He pressed his lips together firmly as Nate wove through the clearing, head swinging back and forth like an attack dog. It was as if he was tracking Deacon down by the scent of his fear. Again, considering Nate's otherworldly nature, not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I know you’re here,” Nate said, a manic laugh following the words. He drew a silenced 10mm pistol from his jacket pocket, showing it off to the seemingly-empty clearing. “Recognize this, D?” He said. Deacon did - it was Tommy’s gun, Deliverer . The very same handgun that Deacon had gifted Nate on his official entry to the Railroad. “Seems poetic, don’t it? Whispers died hiding in the shadows, and now I’m gonna kill you while you’re curled up with a Stealth Boy in your pocket.”

Deacon lunged for Nate just as the effects of the stealth device wore off. He caught the man off guard, at least, wrapping both arms around him in a bearhug of death and tackling him to the ground. Deacon had no idea how he was going to kill his target if even a point-blank shot to the neck wasn’t enough to do it, but at the very least he was going to make Nate suffer .

Deacon grabbed Nate’s arm and yanked, using his foot to pin down the man’s back and dislocate the appendage with a swift movement. Nate choked on a cry - it was the first time Deacon had even seen the man externally express pain. Maybe it was the first time he’d ever been hurt - good. Deacon slammed the heel of his boot into the back of Nate’s head, aiming for the spine. Nate’s good hand darted up, snatching Deacon by the ankle and pulling him to the ground.

Suddenly, their positions were reversed, and Nate was on top of Deacon, pilling him down with the gun pressed to Deacon’s cheek. The dislocated arm was already back into place, its hand closed around Deacon’s neck and choking him. Deacon clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them off. Nate was unbelievably strong - even with how thin and nimble his fingers appeared they were perfectly capable of crushing Deacon’s windpipe.

“Tsk, how disappointing,” Nate muttered, probably to himself. Deacon snarled as the 10mm dug into his flesh. “I really did hope I would have a chance with you. You have such a pretty face.” Deacon felt the silenced barrel trail down his cheek and press against his left breast, “be a shame to ruin it.”

Six silenced shots rang out. Deacon seized as he felt the bullets slide through him, tearing his heart to ribbons. The delicate organ came to a spasming, sudden stop in his chest, and before Deacon realized what had happened he was dead.

Once the spy had stopped moving, Nate put the gun back into his pocket. Deacon's fists relaxed and fell away from the hand still clutching his throat. Nate's fingers lingered on the bruises he’d put on Deacon’s neck, savoring the feel of indents on the other’s flesh. Nate reached up and gently removed the sunglasses from the dead man’s face, folding them up and putting them in his pocket. “I never did understand how you could see out of these things when it was dark.”

Deacon’s eyes stared back at him, expression still caught between rage, terror, and agony. Nate frowned, reaching over to shut Deacon’s eyes for him. “Pity. You really were cute.” Nate leaned over and pressed a kiss to Deacon’s still warm cheek, then stood to leave.

Seconds after his heartbeat could no longer be detected, the auto-stimpack anklet Deacon was wearing deployed. There was no blood flow to carry the medicine through his system, but through the power of osmosis, defusion, and several other pre-war science words Deacon didn’t understand, the contents of a dozen stimpacks made it to the shredded remains of his heart. Veins reconstructed themselves, weaving together tissue and cells to produce a mass of blood vessels that would just barely manage to function as a pump. Five minutes after the drugs did their best to fix a literal broken heart, the taser went off, sending waves of electricity through the corpse of one Johnathan Deacon and starting up his pitiful excuse for a new heart.

The first breath Deacon took after dying was both the single best, and most painful breath of his entire life. The bright lights and sense of calm that death had brought him were replaced with an agony that the words ‘living hell’ didn’t even begin to touch. He couldn’t even scream, the pain in his chest consuming him so completely that all that was left were small, gasping whimpers as he curled onto his side and clawed at himself.

Every muscle burned as his body worked to repair the damage of going several minutes without breathing along with all the other things that were wrong with him. Nearly half a gallon of blood was misplaced in him, and there were still at least three of the six bullets still somewhere inside him pressed up against his recently revived nerves. Deacon’s vision went black and every muscle in his body was tensed. Part of him wondered how long this would last before he died again because there was no way he could be in this much pain without something being vitally wrong with him. The other, much larger part, trusted his friends’ genius and reminded him to wait the pain out.

“So, you guys want me to wear this thing?” Deacon said, holding up the ankle brace that had been given to him by Tom and Carrington. “Like, on my person?”

“Is something wrong with the design?” Tinker Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

“It’s kind of a fashion disaster,” Deacon said, fidgeting with the thick, untreated leather that made up the strap.

“It is a highly advanced revival device, not a fashion statement.” Dr. Carrington said with a roll of his eyes. “Since when have you cared about your appearance anyways?”

“Hey, my appearance is my life,” Deacon countered. “You should know - you’ve done, like, at least three of my face jobs.”

“Four,” Carrington corrected.

“It’s meant to be worn under your clothes anyways,” Tinker Tom said. “The design was my idea - Carrington’s work here is nothing short of genius, but if we wanted any practical use for this thing with our field agents we needed something easily concealed.”

“Easily concealed, right,” Deacon said as he snapped the brace around his leg. “Unless I want to wear shorts. Man, there goes my summer plans.”

“Would you at least try to take this seriously?” Carrington snapped. “This is just a prototype, but if we can verify that it works it could save the lives of countless agents. Unfortunately, the only way to test it is for one of our agents to become mortally wounded while wearing it.”

“And so you’re giving it to me? Gosh, guys, I’m honored, really.” Deacon placed a hand to his heart. “Voted most likely to die on a mission by his peers.”

“You are the one Dez assigns to the most dangerous operations,” Tinker Tom said with a shrug. “Don’t take it too personally. If anything, it means we want you around the most.”

Deacon couldn’t admit it, but that did make him feel a little warm in the chest area, but he and ‘genuine emotions’ hadn’t seen eye-to-eye in years, so Deacon gave his co-conspirators a wink and a smile and said, “Alright, but don’t expect me to run head-first into danger just to give you guys some data. If this thing actually works like you say it will, I’ll buy the first round of the night when I get back to the land of the living.”

“Hmfph,” Carrington huffed, predictably. Then, less predictably, he smiled and said. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Deacon laughed as he came down from the high of agony that was recovering from a mortal chest wound, the sound pitiful and weak. The worst of the pain wasn't done yet, he could tell, this was just a short reprieve while his body geared up to continue its tantrum. “Carrington, you crazy bastard,” He muttered against the blood-soaked grass. “When I get to hell, remind me to buy you that drink.”

Deacon laughed and sobbed and spasmed until the sun was high in the sky.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 fanfiction #fo4 fanfic #fo4 fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout deacon #deacon fallout #fallout 4 deacon #deacon fallout 4 #deacon #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #the black widow's waltz #his time in the commonwealth

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much-obliged-timothy · 4 years

Text

Whumptober #7

Devil May Cry - #7 - Carrying

Nero didn’t know how the hell he ended up in this situation.

The giant demon slammed down, and Nero narrowly avoided getting crushed beneath it, using the moment to slice his sword at the creature’s leg. He struck it, but its skin was thick, and it only snarled and swiped at him.

It caught his shoulder and sent Nero flying, but he managed to regain his balance and land with only the slightest stagger. He braced his sword, readying for the next attack.

“You’re being reckless,” Vergil said, circling the demon and dashing forward to land a precise strike with the Yamato.

The demon howled in pain and swiped at Vergil, far too slow to actually strike him. Nero scowled.

“Show-off,” he grumbled.

He’d tried to stick Dante and Vergil together on this mission, but somehow he ended up fighting a giant demon with Vergil while Dante got to have all the fun with the bastard who summoned the damn thing. Dante owed him big time.

Vergil ended up shifting next to Nero. “We need to take out its legs to slow it down, or it’s just going to keep stomping around. Are you capable of doing that, or are you just going to get knocked around some more?”

“The best part about finding out who my father is, is that now I get to daydream about patricide,” Nero informed him.

Vergil flicked a glare his way. “Can you do this or are you-”

“If you call me deadweight, I’m shoving my sword up your ass.”

“Are you sure you’re not actually Dante’s?” Vergil said in irritation.

“Just try to keep up, old man,” Nero said, running forward at the demon. “I’ve got the front legs.”

“Nero, wait! I’m faster!” Vergil said, throwing his hand out as if to catch Nero.

But Nero was already charging at the front legs. He dodged around one as the demon slammed down again, catching hold of its foot and being lifted into the air. He tightened his grip on his sword.

He risked a glance and saw that, despite his complaint, Vergil was already attacking the back legs. Nero turned his focus back to the leg he was clinging to, positioning his sword as the demon moved to slam its front legs against the ground again to shake Nero off.

Right as it made impact with the ground, Nero stabbed his sword through its leg, piercing the thick flesh. It let out a cry and desperately tried to shake Nero off, but he clung to his sword, which was buried deep in its flesh.

The demon’s head swung down, sharp teeth aimed at Nero. Nero yanked his sword free and stabbed it through the creature’s tongue as its mouth closed around Nero, teeth narrowly missing him.

It shrieked, this time managing to throw Nero. Nero caught himself on the ground and dodged out of the way of its legs as it thrashed.

“You went in its mouth?” Vergil said.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to shower when this is done,” Nero said defensively.

The demon tried to swipe Nero, but he hopped onto its leg and slashed away with his sword. He was flung off a moment later, and moved to catch himself.

But his boots were slippery from being in the demon’s mouth, and he lost his balance, hitting the ground just as the demon began to bring a leg down on him in an angry stampede.

“Nero, move!” he heard Vergil yell.

He tried to shove himself out of the way, but he was too slow. He only got part of his body out of the way before the demon’s weight smashed into one of his legs.

Nero cried out in pain, unable to pull himself free. He lost his grip on his sword, and his hands pawed desperately at the ground, needing to get the weight off his crushed leg as agony tore through him.

“No!”

The word was snarled and angry. A moment later, Vergil was slashing viciously at the demon’s leg, until it stumbled back, squealing in pain, releasing the pressure on Nero’s leg.

But agony shot up it as he tried to move it, and he let out a hoarse yell, his body going still in fear of causing more pain. Vergil was relentless now, driving the demon back with quick, powerful strikes.

Nero grit his teeth, but a cry escaped him as he dragged himself towards his sword. His hands trembled, but he gripped it tightly. He would not be deadweight. Not in front of Vergil.

Despite his crushed leg, Nero forced himself upright, throwing all his weight on his good leg. He pulled his sword back and aimed it carefully.

There. The demon threw its head back in rage, and Nero threw his sword forward.

The sword struck the demon in the eye, and it let out a howl of pain, stomping its feet blindly on the ground and thrashing its head about, leaving its throat wide open.

Vergil seized on the opportunity, propelling himself upwards and slicing the Yamato across the exposed throat. The demon let out a horrible wet gurgle before collapsing onto its side and twitching.

Vergil stabbed the Yamato into the creature’s head until it fell still. He yanked Nero’s sword free and turned to face him.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

“No way. I’m fine,” Nero said, even as his vision wavered from the pain. “Give me back my sword. We’re catching up to Dante.”

“You lost an arm. Do you really want to lose a leg, too?” Vergil said.

“What, going to cut it off and leave me to bleed to death, father of the year?” Nero snapped.

Vergil pressed his lips together tightly. He strode forward and pushed his hand against Nero’s chest roughly.

Nero tried to catch his balance on his bad leg, but the pain was too great, and he found himself on the ground, blood trailing down his lip from how hard he bit it to contain his pained yell. He clenched his fists and shot a furious glare at Vergil.

“You shouldn’t have been standing,” Vergil said simply.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole. My arm grew back. I’m sure my leg will be fine in a little,” Nero said, though right now he wasn’t sure he believed his own words. Shit, it hurt.

“Even with your accelerated healing, that will take a while to heal. A human would’ve had to amputate their leg.” Vergil knelt down and began to feel along Nero’s leg.

“Ow, stop!” Nero snarled, trying to pull his leg away and letting out a frustrated noise at the pain. “Stop touching it! That demon weighed more than a goddamn house; I’m aware every bone in my leg is probably shattered. You’re not helping.”

“Dante probably already finished with the one who summoned this demon.” Vergil got one hand on Nero’s back, and carefully slid the other under him.

“Wait- what the hell are you-”

Vergil lifted him, and Nero involuntarily grasped at Vergil’s shoulder as pain tore through him. But Vergil was holding him carefully, and after the initial pain passed, it calmed to its earlier level of ache.

“You can’t walk,” Vergil said, heading for the entryway.

“I’d rather drag myself out than have you carry me,” Nero said, pushing stubbornly at Vergil’s shoulder.

Vergil kept a steady hold on him. “You’re just like Dante, and it’s infuriating. He doesn’t know when to stop and rest his wounds either. You’ll never be powerful if you break yourself in the process.”

“Fuck power! I want my dignity, and I’m sure as hell not getting that being carried by you while you talk down to me all righteously,” Nero said angrily. “I recall kicking your ass before. Don’t talk to me about power.”

But Vergil seemed genuinely confused. He tried to cover his expression, but Nero caught it before it was gone from his face.

“I’m not being righteous. I’m being honest. You’ll only be hurt worse if you try to get out of here on your own,” he said. “Stop being stubborn. I’m not attacking your dignity. I’m saving your leg.”

That got Nero to stop shoving at his shoulder. Was Vergil...taking care of him?

“I don’t care if you have to amputate my leg. I’m walking back if Dante shows up. I’m not getting caught like this,” he grumbled, turning his head away from Vergil.

Vergil bit back his arguments, knowing it was no use. His son was too much like Dante to be reasoned with.

Still, Vergil knew what that need for dignity felt like. So he made sure to avoid either of them being seen as he carried Nero back towards where they’d left the van. He’d save Nero’s leg and his pride, and Nero was silently grateful for it in the end.

#devil may cry #Nero Sparda #Vergil Sparda #whumptober2020 #no.7 #carrying #fic #devil may cry nero #dmc vergil #DMC #jtdoeswhumptober #my post #My writing

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Note

for the one word prompt— butterflies

Title: through murky waters and twisted paths

Summary: Only fools with a death wish enter the Forgotten Forest. Everyone knows trickster spirits lived there that would love nothing more than to make a quick meal or gain amusement out of a human. Virgil knows all the stories–he’s told them to the village children himself. None of that matters to him any longer.

Pairings: platonic intruxiety

Word-Count: 1.5k

Warnings: G/T, morally grey Remus, fantasy racism, body horror, ostracization, self-hatred & deprecation, suicidal ideations, hunger, death mention, blood mention, non-graphic references to violence, angst with a happy ending

hi I spent way more research on this fic than intended. I also forgot about this for like two months, opps. pls enjoy :)

As the sun sinks low into its’ grave Virgil ventures deeper into the Forgotten Forest, where the trees grow as tall as giants and the moss grows thick. Spirits live in the forest. Trickster spirits, ones that view humans as nothing more than amusement or an easy meal. He’s heard all the stories, he’s told them to the village children himself. None of that matters now.

(First came the cravings. He devoured everything in sight–his stomach never satisfied. At night he’d clutch his stomach as it growled. Always growling, wanting more, more, more)

With each step, he fights against the fear building with each heartbeat. It is quiet in the woods. Too quiet. Where are the bustling of the squirrels and chirping of the birds? Have they been eaten? Will that be his fate as well? As if to answer him, the earth trembles beneath his feet. Virgil stumbles, grasping a tree trunk for support. A choked cry escapes his lips.

(Then, as quickly as the cravings came, they stopped. He had little time to ponder this as exhaustion seeped into his bones. Sleep, he needed sleep. He pulled a blanket over his head, enclosing himself into a husk of darkness.)

“Whoa! You okay, little fella?”

Virgil’s breath seizes. The voice. It’s big and booming like thunder during a fierce storm. Quivering, he tilts his head up, up, up to a figure as tall as the trees themselves. A figure with pale-green skin and dressed in earthy colors. A crown of leaves rests atop their head. A spirit–a giant to be exact.

Virgil tries screaming. All that comes out is a pitiful squeaky click of his teeth.

(He awoke thrashing, constrained in an impossibly tight space. His first immediate thought was that he’d been buried alive. He needed to break out of the coffin. Out, out, out! He scratched and clawed to no avail. Fluid oozed out of him–blood? It had to be blood.)

“Whoa! Aggressive, I like it! Hiya, my name’s Remus, what’s yours?” The giant crouches down, his movements shaking the forest floor. Virgil barely manages to keep a hold on the tree trunk.

“V-virgil.” He tells the giant. He really shouldn’t give his name away just like that. Everybody knows you don’t give spirits that type of power. But he can hardly bring himself to care.

“Virgil? Ooh what a juicy name,” Remus smacks his lips, “You know I could totally squash you with one finger!”

“Do it.”

“What?” The giant blinks, mouth agape.

“Did I stutter?” Virgil asks, jaw clenching, “Do it–kill me, put me out my misery. I’m a monstrosity–I shouldn’t exist anyways.”

(His coffin cracked open. Except dirt didn’t come pouring in–sunlight did. He clung to the edge of it and froze. Something was wrong. His breathing–he couldn’t breathe! At least not in the way he was most intimately familiar with. Oxygen seeped through passageways. Not his nose or mouth but elsewhere. He looked down at not one, but two pairs of hands. He screamed. His skin no longer a pale complexion but an unnatural shade of purple. A pair of hands frantically clutched his face. He felt two normal ears, two normal eyes and two long strands of…hair?)

The giant’s grin vanishes as anger seeps onto his very large face. Virgil shudders, his instincts urging him to flee. He can feel air rushing behind him, his feet leaving the forest ground. Nothing happens because the giant snatches him up faster than he can blink.

(It wasn’t hair. It twitched out of its own volition, smelling his very sweaty palms. With a shriek, he leapt backwards as the spot between his shoulder blades burned. Two brightly-colored appendages flare out from the corner of his eye–surely something horrid like another set of arms. He kept scrambling backwards, as if he could run away from himself. He never stood a chance against that rock. His foot caught the edge of it and Virgil went tumbling down.)

“Hey! Who says you shouldn’t exist?” Remus demands, lips curling backwards to reveal sharp teeth. He holds Virgil in a grip much looser than he expects. It still doesn’t stop Virgil’s heart rate from accelerating.

“I–I do.”

“Well, I’ll mash up their insides and feed it to the–wait, you do?” Remus blinks, “why?”

(He woke up to voices. Angry voices. Voices that once familiar and warm now bent with vitriol and disgust. Voices of people he’d called friends and neighbors. Voices of people that called him a demon and a monster. Voices that welcomed him in, gave him food and a honest living. Voices that drove him out, casting charms and wards against him.)

“Just–just look at me!” Virgil says, swallowing nervously, “I’m a demon, I’ll–I’ll possess your soul if you don’t kill me.”

“A demon?” Remus asks, before bellowing with laughter, “I’ve seen plenty of demons before. Best friends with one, lemme tell ya. I know them when I see ‘em and you ain’t a demon.”

“Then…what do you think I am?”

(He found himself on the edge of the Forgotten Woods. Forgotten because it was so ancient. Forgotten because it was best to forget about it. Long before he was born, spirits took hold of the forest. Killing or thralling any humans who dared enter their domain. But he wasn’t quite human now, was he?)

Remus doesn’t directly answer Virgil. He summons something with his other hand. An oval-shaped object, with wooden trim and vines growing around it. A mirror. One that looms enormous over Virgil, but scaled to the giant is a hand-mirror. Remus’ grip on Virgil releases, causing him to fall back onto the giant’s palm. Virgil’s teeth click again as he stands on shaky legs. His eyes trail upwards, into the face of his reflection.

(Black horns. Glowing eyes. A long forked tongue. These were the details he could make out in the murky puddle he came across)

Black antennas poking out of plum-colored locks. Watery, lilac-tinged spotted eyes. A thin long curled tongue between fangs. Violet skin smooth and hardened. Four arms entangle together in a tight embrace. His shoulder blades twinges as slightly crumpled wings emerge from behind his back. Dark velvet wings reminiscent of butterflies.

“See!” Remus asks, almost bouncing in place, “You’re a bruise-colored nightmare of a changeling! Why shouldn’t you exist?”

“Changeling?”

“Yeah changeling–” Remus’ eyes widen, “Ooohhh. You didn’t know, did ya? What was it like? The hunger, I mean? What weird shit did you eat to satiate it? Or the chrysalis! Did you retain any memory inside of it while you turned into a gooey liquid? I bet it was cool–”

“I can’t be a changeling,” Virgil interrupts, a hand gripping at his hair, “I wasn’t super smart, or–or sickly. I was–”

“–a child,” Remus says, his voice suddenly calm and serious, “just a child no different than a human’s young no matter what those hypocritical bastards believe.”

(A few months ago he stood in the middle of the village, Mable’s and Urtha’s children swarming him. ‘Please Virgil,’ they chanted, ‘one more story! One more story!’ ‘Alright,’ he said laughing, ‘alright but just one more okay? I got work to do.

‘One day a mother checked on her child’s crib and cried out in anguish. For her child sported a beard and had long thin teeth. Sharp and spindly, good at tearing through flesh. The child’s grey eyes held a spark too wise. Its head was too small, disproportionate from its body. For it was not her child in the crib. It was a changeling.’)

“I don’t want this, please.” Virgil begs, slumping his head downwards.

The giant’s eyes, more than twice the size of him, regard him. With a flick, the mirror disappears. He reaches out with his other hand. Virgil tenses, waiting for the spirit to crush him. A single finger raises his chin up gently.

“I won’t kill you,” Remus says and with it Virgil’s heart plummets, “I mean, killing is fun. But this wouldn’t be fun for me or you, I promise. Ya know what’d be fun?”

“What?” Virgil asks. He wonders if he’s about to become Remus’ servant. Or worse, a plaything. Something for the giant to screw around with until he played too rough. There’s nothing Virgil could do to stop him. He’s too small to fight back even if he wanted to.

“If we became friends.”

“Friends? What? Why?!”

“Why not?” The giant grins crookedly, “does there have to be a reason?”

“…I guess not.”

“Sooo?”

“Okay, fine, it’s whatever.” Virgil concedes, body drooping with exhaustion. He hasn’t eaten since he woke up changed and disoriented. He yelps, a jolt of adrenaline pumping through his veins as the giant presses him against his chest in a hug of some sort.

“Great! You won’t regret this!”

“I think I do.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remus cheers, oddly unfazed as he still holds Virgil close to his chest, “now woulda like to meet my demon friend? Half his face is a snake!”

“Sure,” Virgil yawns. He can’t help it–Remus is warm and for the moment, doesn’t seem interested in maiming him. He falls asleep to the rhythmic stomps of Remus as he traverses through the woods, rambling all the way.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #kat writes #dammit i keep ending fics with Virgil falling unconscious #i just noticed #anyways i did a lot of research about butterflies #i know too much now

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thewheezingwyvern · 4 years

Text

Pocket of Sunshine

Rating: Spicy (Not quite NSFT but not SFW either-sexual/suggestive themes and situations but no sex)

Ship: Pro Hero!Kirishima x F!Pro Hero!Reader x Pro Hero!Shoto

Word Count: 2.5 K

Summary: Sandwiched between Kirishima and Shoto, things get a bit heated while you three wait for your train.

Credits: The base image can be found from this photographer from Unsplash. And this idea was a request from @arrestingaphine ! It was intended to be shorter but the idea really took in my brain. And yes you read that banner right, there will be a part 2!

⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸ ⫸

You had not planned on starting your morning out feeling sexually frustrated. But life seemed to like to throw you into these predicaments. You couldn’t say you were complaining, however. No girl with a pulse would be against being sandwiched between Kirishima and Shoto, two amazing heroes with growing notoriety. It was a few years into their college work, honing their craft and in Kirishima’s case: his muscles. Powerful, cut muscles that put out enough heat on their own that it chased away the cold that had gripped you.

Being pressed against Kirishima was tempting enough on it’s own but with Shoto sitting on your right it made it even more intense. The left side of his body was kicking off waves of heat, chasing away the cold that had seeped down to your bones from outside. Two very, very attractive men and there was you, all five foot one of supple curves. Curves that you wanted to have pressed even closer to them. Thoughts of heated touches, wet and wanton mouths descending onto your skin filled you, your breath coming out marginally more ragged.

‘Down girl!’ you thought to yourself, ‘You’re just here for the trip to the hospital to learn protocols for bringing in wounded civilians.’

“We’re here early.” Shoto noted, dichromatic eyes slipping down to look at the watch on his wrist, “The train won’t be here for another twenty minutes.”

Damn how did he look so sexy just doing that? Mentally you began kicking yourself. What was wrong with you!? It was too early in the day for you to feel this aroused! Even if they both were really hot…

“That’s ok, isn’t it? It just gives Sunshine here a chance to warm back up!” Kirishima scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you to him, “That’s better, yeah? I know it’s really cold outside and your Quirk counts on you storing up heat. It isn’t too much is it?”

“Let me get closer as well.” You could have sworn you just saw a small smirk flash across Shoto’s lips, “We don’t want you to freeze.”

Oh god. If they were any closer to you than you would probably combust on the spot. And they were getting so cozy in a public space that you couldn’t help but whip your head around to see if anyone was looking. To the rest of the station it was business as usual, everyone around was too busy wrapped up in their own affairs to notice the three of you. Although you knew it was only a matter of time before someone recognized the famous Todoroki and Red Riot, street attire or not.

“Is this ok?” Todoroki asked.

Fuck. That voice. A subtle drop in octave, rubbing against your ear and it was nearly enough to have you audibly whimper. It was like the universe KNEW that you had a crush on the two of them and made it a point to torment you with them. You opened your mouth to answer but your throat felt uncomfortably dry, as if the words were catching before they could reach your lips.

“I-uh-”

“Hey you ok there?” Kirishima inquired, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “You look like you aren’t feeling yourself…”

Something didn’t seem right. You knew Kirishima by this point and that question, that tone he spoke with, did not at all sound like how he was worried. There was an almost...husky quality to it. And it sent shivers down your spine, thoughts of that voice growling out into your ear as he fucked you swelling in you.

“G-guys?” you squeaked faintly when they closed in on you.

“Mina told us.” came Riot’s voice in your ear, “You’ve had a crush on us, huh?”

You were going to kill her. Or at least that was your initial thought but it quickly dissolved into thin air when Kirishima took your jaw gently into his hand, tilting your head back towards him. The amused smirk he greeted you with made your cheeks grow hot. There was a brief pause, red eyes flickering down to eye your lips which you unconsciously licked. He brought his head down and pressed a firm kiss to your mouth, a soft groan vibrating in the back of his throat.

Scratch that. You owed Mina a dozen thank yous and at least one drink the next time you two went out.

Kirishima was every bit as attentive in his kiss as you had expected, lips moving fervently against yours. He lapped at your lower lip, seeking entrance which you eagerly granted him. With a groan you discovered he was very talented with his tongue and you instantly thought of the other places he could use it on you. That was until a hot mouth fell upon the right side of your neck, suckling at the skin there. The feeling was enough to make you groan with desire into Kirishima’s mouth, feeling your muscles grow weak beneath the attention.

“I hope you didn’t forget about me.” Shoto purred against your skin.

It was a sinuous sound that pebbled the skin on your arms. He kissed a path up your neck, meticulously studying every twitch and sound it drew from you along the way until he pulled your ear lobe between his teeth. It was a careful way for him to find all of your weak spots to exploit them and make you nearly fall apart. Shoto kissed in a similar fashion to how he fights. Every brush of his lips or nip of his teeth is one of careful, pinpoint precision but also overwhelming in intensity. It was enough to have you quaking, hungry for more of him, ready to melt beneath him. The feeling of their mouths on you was tortuous and it made you ache between your legs, so many places on your body begging to be touched. As if your thoughts had summoned them, hands fell on your body, squeezing through the thick jacket and clothes you had worn to stave off the winter cold.

Kirishima pried himself away from your full mouth to catch his breath. You were feeling winded yourself, their touch snatching the air right out of you. There was enough time for you to suck in several gasps of air before your head was turned to your right. Todoroki’s dichromatic eyes were ablaze with his own desire, his mouth slightly parted as he drank in your face. You were about to whisper his name when he crushed his lips to yours. The raw need that came from him was staggering and not something you had anticipated from him.

The kiss was smouldering and only seemed to grow as he went on, a fire stoked by a warm wind. It was intense and the sensation was only amplified by the heat coming off of him. Heat that your body drank in greedily to store away for later. Fuck he was a really good kisser. You could feel your abdomen tighten when a Quirk heated hand slid sensually down your throat, fingers lightly wrapped around the column of your neck. The heat was decadent and felt wonderful against you, soaking in every drop offered in that touch.

“Mina also told us that you didn’t just have a crush.” Kirishima nipped at your ear, his impossibly large frame swallowing yours, “She also told us that you wanted to be pressed between both of us. Heh, you should have said something. We both want you bad, Sunshine.”

Hearing him whisper into your ear made you give a soft gasp against Todoroki’s lips. A hot, probing tongue slipped in immediately, exploring you carefully. The thought had long gone from your mind that you three were in a very public space where anyone could walk up and see you getting kissed breathless by two notorious heroes. Given how hot you felt and how your arousal was pooling in your panties, you probably wouldn’t have cared.

A large hand found its way to your left breast, squeezing the supple flesh that was hidden beneath your jacket. Kirishima wasn’t normally that bold and it had you moaning with need. If you weren’t in the middle of the train station you would have pounced right onto his lap and ground yourself down against his cock. Shoto pulled away from you, panting softly, his face flushed. He shared a look with Kirishima before they both pulled away, leaving you positively aching for them.

Todoroki’s eyes bore into yours with an amorous intensity and it told you clearly that he wasn’t ready to drop this. And the disappointed whine from the red-head to your left clearly declared that he didn’t want to stop either. But the train station was growing more crowded now and it was only a matter of time before the three of you-

“Neh? Is that the hero Nova? And Red Riot?!”

That was the sign that at any moment the three of you would be mobbed. So that prompted the two of them to slide discreetly away from you but still close enough that you were bathed in their body heat. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Shoto stared you down before there was the faintest twist at the corner of his mouth. That look alone was enough to make you whimper softly.

“You can tell us both, in detail, just what you would like for us to do to you later.”

Oh shit. You didn’t get the chance to think much more on that because the three of you were mobbed by adoring fans and the crowd only swelled when they all realized Shoto was there too. Left and right you could hear voices, questions, most asking for autographs and about where you were going. The chaos had Kirishima standing up and laughing jovially, a large goofy grin spread across his face.

“Hey, hey settle down now. We’ll try to answer what we can before our train gets here, ok?”

Todoroki rose to his feet as well, giving your arm a gentle pull so you could still be close with them. If you were being honest, you still hadn’t adjusted to the throngs of people that would randomly approach you on the street and it often was overwhelming. But Kirishima was adept at it and held their attention easily while you tried to reign in your thumping heart and desire.

“Nova,don’t you have to stay warm, though? It’s so cold out today!”

Fuck how were you supposed to answer that? Somehow saying ‘Well my two classmates here made sure to kiss the life out of me until I felt like I was going to burst into flames’ seemed like something that was off the table. You struggled to come up with a response, your traitorous mind steering your thoughts back to the heated kisses and touches they had just drowned you in minutes before this. A lump formed in your throat as you thought of tasting them, touching and exploring and-

“Are you worried about her?” Kirishima asked with a chuckle, abruptly throwing his arm around your shoulder, “That’s so cute! You don’t have to worry! We take really good care of our Sunshine here.”

It was such an innocent statement. At least it was meant to sound innocent. But you knew that Kirishima had said that on purpose, reminding you of how he felt with you pressed closely to him. You could feel your face grow hot. They were just determined to embarass you, weren’t they?! Shoto cast you a meaningful look before addressing them as well.

“Between Red Riot’s body heat and my Quirk, we’ve made sure that Nova has stayed heated today.”

Ok he was definitely doing that on purpose. And it did not have your abdomen tightening at the insinuations there. Not at all. Nope.

“It also helps that I carry around these…” you laughed sheepishly, pulling out the two hot packs you had stashed in your pockets, “I have to stay prepared!”

“You have such good teammates Nova!” one high school girl gushed, “They’re so caring! Are any of you dating? You would be sooooo cute with Red Riot or Todoroki!”

You choked, “D-dating?! Uh, no no no! I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with them! I just mean I don’t- We’re just-”

“Awww you guys got her all flustered!” Kirishima laughed good naturedly, “We aren’t dating but Nova is adorable, isn’t she? I think anyone would be lucky to date her!”

“Eh?! Does that mean you’d like to date her Red Riot?!” inquired another high school girl.

The red-head lifted his arm and scratched the back of his head a bit bashfully, “Well, heh, I guess I wouldn’t mind at all! But we’re pretty busy people, yeah? Not sure there’d really be time.”

Hey wasn’t it time for the League of Villains to attack again? You hadn’t seen them in a while. Now would be a great time for them to show up! Any moment now. Any. Moment. Now. Your eyes widened marginally when the crowd turned their attention back to you, curiosity practically glowing from their eyes. Oh fuck.

“What about you Nova? Were you interested in Red Riot?”

That single question made you feel like you were short circuiting. Infact, once you got shocked by Kaminari and the sensation wasn’t all that different. The easy answer was hell YES. But you couldn’t deny that you wanted Shoto as well. Yet all of those emotions caught in your chest as you stared out at the small crowd of people wanting answers from you.

“I-uh-um,” you stuttered, tugging at the hem of your jacket, “Well I- Oh look, our train’s here! Got to go!”

Without a second thought you snatched up both Kirishima’s and Shoto’s arm and bulldozed your way through the crowd. The train car was like a sanctuary and you felt some of your mounting anxiety lessen. Your face was impossibly hot, so much so that it could compete with a furnace. That was awful. That was mortifying. Yet everything that came before it was so undeniably steamy and sexy that you couldn’t wait to have them on you again.

“I- Kiri why did you- I just-”

Todoroki raised a brow and smirked faintly, “I think you broke her.”

“Shut up, Sho!” You gave him a shove.

“Heh, don’t be embarrassed, Sunshine! I was only telling the truth.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide your mortified expression. That only seemed to urge them on further and they sat you down with firm and guiding hands, wedging you closely between them. There was no longer the pretense for them to be doing it to warm you up. No, there was no doubt that you were plenty hot at the moment and they did not help anymore. As more people filed on, finding places for them to sit, Shoto leaned over and pressed his lips closely to your ear.

“Now, princess, why don’t you tell us both what you want us to do to you? Quietly.”

This...this was going to be a very long train ride.

#BNHA #BNHA fanfic #Kirishima x reader #Todoroki Shoto x reader #Kirishima x reader x Shoto #Pocket of Sunshine #polyship #MHA #MHA fanfic #My writing #Kirishima Eijirou #Todoroki Shoto

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problemchildnoonewanted · 4 years

Text

Demon!AU: Part 1

Hiro had given up. He tried everything. None of the inventions he had built or formulas he concocted bore any fruit for all his labor. The science he loved and cherished so dearly left him with dead end after dead end. It couldn't bring back his big brother.

So after eight days of sobbing and Baymax saving Hiro from suicide two times, Hiro decided to try one last thing.

It all started with a stupid ad he saw on a sketchy web site. It read: Demonology For Beginners! How To Make Your Dreams Come True!

However, when he clicked on the link it just took him to a white page with a 'site not found' message.

He sighed in frustration, but the possibilities were already bouncing around in his mind. So he began researching. Even getting into contact with a few experts and practitioners. Until finally after weeks of gathering information, he found himself here. Painting a rather large summoning circle on his bedroom floor with white paint. Aunt Cass would kill him if she ever found out he did this to her floor.

One of the friends he had made warned him that when making a deal with a demon there can be a catch. Demons like to play tricks and pranks with foolish humans. But Hiro was an intelligent person and from what he's learned so long as he's specific he'll get his brother back.

Hiro would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was terrified. What if it didn't work? What if the demon flat out said no? What if-

No, now wasn't the time for that.

Hiro lit the six black candles he bought and placed them in the center of the outside circles.

Hiro grabbed the sharp kitchen knife and dug it along the palm of his hand. Blood almost instantly started pouring out of the wound and Hiro tried not to make any sound of pain as to not activate Baymax. He quickly moved around the large circle to spread his blood around the edges and letting it drip around the candles. When he was done he wrapped his hand in a disinfectant cloth.

Then he began the chant.

"Magnum daemonem Domine da mihi volo te voco. Audite quaeso ut mihi vocationem auxilium, et super me misericordia." (Great demon lord, I summon you to my side to grant my wish. Please hear my call for help and take pity upon me.)

Hiro followed the instructions and repeated the mantra a total of six times.

Then silence.

Hiro knew that this probably wouldn't work, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Hiro fell to his knees and buried his face in his hand as he began sobbing.

"Why are you crying, boy?"

Hiro jumped away from the direction of the menacing and terrifying voice. Looking up Hiro saw the towering figure above him. It was very human-like in shape, but it was far from mistakable. Its huge lean figure, long, pointed horns, and not mention its black shadow-like body gave away what it truly was. A demon.

It tilted its head and its eyes made of white light seemed to narrow in amusement at Hiro's panting form on the ground.

Every part of Hiro's brain was telling him to get up and run from the creature, but he fought those urges down.

"I can't believe it worked," Hiro spoke more to himself than anything else.

"Yes, indeed. Now that we are past the amazement of my existence, you will answer my question, yes?" Hiro stared mesmerized by the way the being mouth appeared and disappeared from its face and, just like its eyes, it was made of pure light.

"What?" Hiro asked a bit foolishly.

The demon sighed. "Why were you crying upon my arrival, boy? Most don't start crying until they see me, and you didn't even seem to notice I was here." The creature waved its hand around as if to prove a point.

"Oh. It's because... I thought it didn't work." Hiro sat up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I see. And would it have been so bad if it hadn't?" The demon questioned seemingly intrigued by the human child's reactions.

"Yes," Hiro replied without hesitation.

"Oh? And why is that?" The entity moved closer to Hiro and from this distance, he could make out more details. The black layer that seemed shadow like at first now revealed to be skin that Hiro could see faint glowing veins beneath. The demon also didn't seem to have any perceivable gender.

"Because then that would mean I'd never get to see my big brother again." Hiro's gaze dropped to the floor in sorrow before snapping back up when the demon spoke once more.

"Is that why you've brought me here? Is he missing?" The demon sat down in front of Hiro in a bit of a lazy fashion just on the edge of the circle it was summoned with.

"He died in a fire."

"I see."

There was a moment of silence where the demon just seemed to stare at Hiro.

"Can you bring him back?"

"I can."

"Really!? That's ama-"

"As a demon."

"What?"

"I'm an Archdemon, not a god. My power is great but limited," The demon waved its hand again and an unnatural light filled the room before disappearing just as fast as it came.

Hiro sat and contemplated this new information for a minute.

"But it would still be Tadashi, right?"

"Correct. It's still his soul. Just corrupted."

"Corrupted!?"

"It's just another word for becoming a demon. The only thing that may be different about him is he may become less moral. But only a little." The demon pinched its thumb and index finger together with only a bit of space in between them as if to show how little the difference will be. "You'd barely even notice. Most of the time they just become a little more selfish with what they want. Possessive. Carnal. That's all."

"Oh... I guess that's not so bad."

"Of course it's not. Now, why do you want him back so desperately? Be specific."

"Because he's my brother!" The demon's eyes narrowed at Hiro's raise in tone and lack of a proper answer. "I-I'm sorry. I mean because I love him more than anyone and he's always been there for me. He's the only reason I ever tried to be better and now that he's gone... I barely find the energy to get out of bed."

"Hm... I'm sensing a little more than familial love." Hiro felt heat rise to his face and the tips of his ears and opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but he was cut off. "And don't lie to me, boy. I'll know. And if you do I'll kill you and take your soul so you'll never see your precious brother again. You see I despise liars."

"I-I... Yes. You're right."

"Now, was that so hard? And how sweet." The demon grinned inhumanly wide and with how close they are Hiro could make out just how sharp each of its teeth, more like fangs, were. They could easily slice through flesh and, if he had to guess, maybe bone and metal. "How long have you known? I don't get out much, so do forgive my intrusiveness, but I am so curious."

"I th-think I may have always had a crush on him. As a kid, everyone said I had a brother complex because I didn't want Tadashi to go anywhere if I wasn't there and didn't want to let him hang out with anyone but me. I just thought that since he was my brother that meant he was mine. And for the most part, Tadashi just let it happen. Doing whatever I wanted and letting me get away with anything. Then a couple years ago love was explained to me for the first time and I realized that that's what I felt for Tadashi. But by then I also knew it wasn't acceptable to feel that way for your brother. So I didn't tell anyone... And then he went to college. He started spending less time with me and more with his projects and new friends. So I did what any kid my age not getting enough attention does and started something illegal to get his focus back on me."

"Wow, kid." The demon seemed almost astonished with just how honest Hiro was.

"Sorry. You're just the first person I've ever talked to about this." Hiro scratched the back of his neck again and looked down.

"... And you're the first human that's called me a person." The demon brushed its claws through Hiro's hair without thinking before quickly retracting its hand to its side.

"That's kinda sad."

The demon chuckled in response and had Hiro heard that sound in any other situation he probably would have pissed himself. Hiro laughed and the two sat in silence for another moment.

"So... Is this the part where you eat my soul or whatever?" Hiro looked up at the demon through his long bangs.

"No. I don't think I will. It pleased me to speak with you, child. I hope to do so again. So how about this instead. I give you your big brother, Tadashi, back, and should I ever need a favor you will help me without question or condition."

"Yes! I mean wait. What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Like what's the downside?"

"Hm. I suppose it would be that you will have to supply your brother with your energy as he will now be bound to you. But that's it." The demon leaned forward with its clawed right hand outstretched. "Do we have a deal?"

"Absolutely!" Hiro clasped both hands around the demon's and shook it harshly.

The demon's grin stretched up past its eyes and almost to its horns. "This might tickle a bit."

Before Hiro could even question what the demon meant he felt searing hot pain shooting through his body from where he was connected to the other. It was easily the worst physical pain Hiro had ever felt. And then it was like every memory Hiro ever had of Tadashi was playing through his mind.

Hiro's memories played until he saw the explosion from Tadashi's death and it was like the end of a camera real. He was able to see his room and the demon again.

"Ah. There you are. I've located his soul. Luckily, he's still in limbo awaiting assignment. That's easy enough to pull him from," Hiro heard the creature's voice inside his head. "Now for the tricky part. Let's create your demon form."

Hiro noticed out of the corner of his eye a dim light and glanced over to spot another circle slowly materializing in red fire-like light. This one was different from the one Hiro had drawn. It seemed more complex.

"Ah!" Hiro hissed in pain. It felt like someone was slicing into his wrist with a fine blade. He looked down and saw that the same symbol was being carved into his skin by seemingly nothing. Hiro reached to cover his right wrist as though to protect it but the demon in front of him grabbed Hiro's left wrist and held tight to his right hand.

"Don't." Then everything around them began to shake and the demon started to laugh at the events unfolding.

Hiro felt genuine terror at the moment as a few tears slid down his face. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the new circle finally finished materializing on both the floor and Hiro's wrist.

Hiro looked over in time to see a column of fire burst from the circle to the ceiling and for a moment Hiro was worried an inferno would break out. 'Am I going to die in a fire too?' But Hiro was surprised to find that when the blaze receded there were no marks.

Movement caught Hiro's eyes immediately. He looked down to the sight of a steaming, heavily breathing form. It had long horns protruding from its forehead, and short black hair in the same style Tadashi always had it. Hiro looked to meet its eyes to see if it really was Tadashi, but the creature seemed dazed. Hiro stepped close to get a better look and the demon let him go to do so.

"He'll be out of it for a minute or so while he gets accustomed to being alive again."

He seemed taller and broader, more muscular. The horns were red and flaked in black obsidian. The whites of his eyes were now red and the usual soft brown was now a striking golden yellow. They seemed sharper in a dangerous way. The lower half of his face was covered by what looked like the bottom half of a red Japanese Oni mask.

Looking lower, Hiro noticed his muscles were definitely more defined. Hiro wanted to reach out and feel them but was stopped by what looked like fire blazing beneath his skin. There were patches of red and black around his shoulders and his hands led down to black long claws that twitched every now and again.

Hiro's eyes moved back to his torso where he saw the red and black patches around his sides flowing down to his hips and- 'hoLY FUCK HE'S NAKED!'

Hiro whipped his head away and felt the heat return to his face making the demon by his side snicker as though it could hear his thoughts. But the damage was already done and Hiro just kept thinking, 'That is really big,' like a damn idiot. 'There's no way Tadashi was that big before, right?'

"Don't be shy. There's more to see." The demon he summoned purred out. Eventually, Hiro turned his head back to further inspect Tadashi's new form just avoiding that area, which was kinda difficult considering Tadashi's hips were almost Hiro's shoulder height.

A fluid motion caught Hiro's attention behind Tadashi and he saw that it was a long swishing red tail ending in black with a dull point. Hiro then saw that the nails on Tadashi's toes were now black and more claw-like as well.

"Well, what do you think? Some of my best work if I do say so myself." The demon remarked a bit smugly.

"He's-" Just as Hiro was about to share his thoughts Tadashi seemingly jolted to life and looked around in a disoriented manner. He made eye contact with the being that was closest to his eye level first.

"Wha-" Tadashi tried to get out but when he heard how different and muffled his voice was he freaked out and reached for his face. He instantly felt the hard lines of the Oni mask covering his mouth and began trying to pull it off.

"Calm down. It's just a battle mask. All demons have one. Relax and it will come off," The taller demon, that Tadashi somehow knew to be his maker, spoke as it began circling Tadashi to get a good look at its creation. "You can summon it at will. You'll figure it out."

Tadashi took a few calming breaths and the mask slipped off with ease. Tadashi let it fall and he followed the motion, but the mask dissipated before it hit the floor. Tadashi then looked over himself to take in his new features. He was a little freaked out, but, in a way, it felt... natural.

Tadashi then noticed the figure in front of him and looked up to see that it was Hiro. His Hiro. He's not sure why, but when he made direct eye contact he got this intense feeling as though he had found something he was missing.

The feeling was so strong that he felt tears welling up and soon spilling over. Hiro suddenly looked very concerned and it was like he could feel that concern himself.

"Don't be alarmed. A demon's tears are normally either red like blood or black like tar depending on the reason." The shadow-like demon brought the back of its claw up and swiped at Tadashi's cheek and pulled back to show Tadashi the reason for Hiro's alarm. What he saw was, in fact, a red, almost blood-like, liquid.

"I-Is this real?" Tadashi asked reaching out for Hiro to cup the side of Hiro's face gently with his new clawed hand. Hiro leaned into the contact and latched his hands onto Tadashi's wrist and forearm when the contact didn't burn him like Hiro thought it would.

"I was just about the ask the same thing." Hiro closed his eyes and nuzzled into Tadashi's palm. Tadashi felt a sense of peace wash over him and moved to fully embrace Hiro as the blissful sensations coursed through his being.

"Your emotions and intense thoughts will be connected to each other now. It's apart of the pact. Boy, you are now responsible for his well being. Keep in mind that he can only receive energy from you and so if you refuse or forget to feed him he will die. Though I doubt it will get to that point between the two of you. If there's ever a time you feel he needs discipline just apply pressure to the seal with thoughts of harm. The same can be said of the opposite. I'll be off now." The lanky demon slowly walked back to the summoning circle with a smirk.

The brothers were too busy embracing each other to worry about the retreating demon who left as quietly as it came.

"Hiro Hamada, what was all that noise and shaking!" Aunt Cass's voice called from the other side of the locked door.

#hidashi #demon!au #tadashi x hiro

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

All About You

Summary: You had a bad day yesterday, but things gets better when you wake up next to Jimin, with your boyfriend determined to make you know how loved you are.

Warnings: SMUT. Mixed with a bit of fluff, cause I can’t seem to write it any other way. Here’s what to expect: swearing (just a bit), praise kink, erotic body touching, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (please be smart IRL).

Requested: YES! A sweet anon requested something with lots of praises from Jimin as a sequel to Perfect to Me, but I made it a one-shot instead. Hope you like it!

Word Count: 2678

You wake up with soft butterfly kisses on the back of your shoulders, a warm hand rubbing circles on your arm. Opening your eyes, there’s a bit of clarity coming in through the window, enough to make you squint your eyes. The pecks move to your neck and you smile, realizing who was lying behind you, warming you up this cold morning.

“When did you get here?” you ask drowsily, rotating in place to turn to him.

“Morning, kitten. Late last night. You were already asleep” he explained, his plump rosy lips pressing lovingly into yours in a good morning kiss.

You smile and look adoringly at him. Jimin’s hair was ruffled from sleep, his brown eyes just small slits since he too couldn’t open them too much just yet, his left cheek rosier than the right one for sleeping on that side for too long. Even when you saw him on stage, with all the makeup and so handsome on those stylist suits, you preferred him exactly like this.

“Good morning, Chim Chim. I’m glad you came over” you tell him, embracing him tightly as you hide your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, placing a soft kiss on the showing skin there. Your soft fluffy body presses into his lean muscular one, searching for his warmth.

“What happened yesterday? Why were you sad?” he questions as he wraps his arms around you too, melting into your hug easily.

“How do you know something happened?” You are confused, for you never told him nothing about it. Noticing your frowned eyebrows, Jimin kisses your forehead, just above the lines your frown has created.

“I could tell by the few text messages you sent me. You sounded off” he tells you.

“Well… You’re right.” You sigh heavily, remembering the awful day you had. Leaning back a bit so he can see your face as you talk, Jimin places a soft hand on your chubby cheek and rubs the skin soothingly, trying to appease you as you spoke. “My boss yelled at me. Many times. I don’t blame him, I made so many mistakes yesterday… I felt incredibly useless” you admit, not really able to look at Jimin in the eyes.

“Y/N, you’ve been there for two weeks, it’s normal to make mistakes” he tries to console you.

“I feel like I should know better by now. I’m terrified he’ll fire me because I made so many errors…” you bite your lips, the anxiety you had the day before bubbling back up.

“Hey, kitten. Hey, look at me” Jimin forces you to stare back into his serious eyes. “You are doing your best, and that is all they could ask for. Don’t stress too much over it, okay my love?”

“Oh, Jimin…” You feel bad for worrying him when he already has so many things on his plate. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. It was just a bad day, I know. Sorry to bother you with my problems, Chim.”

“Your problems are my problems ever since you agreed to be my girlfriend, kitten. And you could never, ever, bother me at all” he assures you, with a kind and warm smile covering his eyes into half-moons, shinning even through the small space. It makes you smile back and your heart swell with love. “In fact…”

The one thing that never ceased to amaze you with Jimin, was his duality. He was the kindest, most caring and attentive boyfriend you could ever ask for, but his innocent sweet smiles and gestures could turn mischievous and suggestive in the blink of an eye. One moment, you were laying side by side, in a comfortable innocent hug and loving smiles, the other he was pinning you to the mattress, hovering above you with dark naughty eyes, hands on your wrists and licking his lips slowly.

“You may need a bit of a reminder about how good of a girl you are, yeah?”

Even if you could come up with a response to that, it would go to waste for his mouth was on yours before you took your next breath, supple moist lips pressing hard against yours. Letting go of your wrists in favor of feeling up and down the pudgy sides of your frame, all the way from your large thighs up to beneath your squishy arms, it allowed you to lift your hands and cradle his face, a gesture you often made to show him how precious he was to you.

Nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip, you allowed him to deepen the kiss as you parted your mouth. His warm slippery tongue played with yours sensually as his hands moved to your back, certainly crushing his lower arms under your weight but you couldn’t care.

Grazing teeth and swirling tongues separated with the need of oxygen, but only for him to move down and start kissing down your neck, retrieving his hands from your back and kneading at your wide hips. The morning didn’t seem so cold now, with the air around you two becoming warmer and your skin starting to ignite on fire at every single one of his touches.

“My kitten always feels so good” Jimin murmurs against your skin, lips pressing hard against your shoulder, hands finding the hem of your pajama’s top and sneaking under it. “Always such soft skin and warmth awaiting me, it drives me mad” he continues, his usually high pitched voice in an unnatural lower range for him.

“Jimin, you-” He interrupts with another breathtaking kiss against your lips, tongue sliding across the underside of yours as he leans back, making you shiver. He is all red swollen lips and lust-blown eyes staring intensely back into yours.

“Don’t speak, love. This is going to be all about you” he promises, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he lowers his head and starts nipping at the flesh covering your collarbone.

You blush heavily, just the thought of being his entire focus making you squirm and an uncomfortable wetness pools at your hot center. When his hands start undoing the buttons of your shirt, yours sneak under the hoodie he slept in, brushing the sides of him and descending down his chest, into his abs. But he catches your hands before they go further, pinning them down to the mattress as his head dips down between your breasts. You usually slept without a bra, and today was no exception.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful…” he groans, sucking on your skin. His nose rubs the underside of your breast, a sensitive area that rarely got touched and that made you tremble slightly. “Have I ever told you how much I like your boobs? How they feel on my hands, especially.”

To prove a point, he lets go of your wrists to grab them and squeeze them firmly, feeling their weight on his hands, making you arch into his sudden touch. Smugly, he hovers down to lick one nipple, just dampening it slightly, and blowing cold air into it after. You release an exasperated huff and hit him slightly on the arm, making him chuckle.

“Sorry, kitten. I just like to see them perk up under my actions. And they’re such a lovely color too, I could stare for hours” he says as his fingers start rubbing and pinching both of your nipples, making you gasp and moan loudly.

Lips wrapping around one bud as the other is toyed with by his fingers, Jimin has you whimpering and writhing beneath him in no time, a coil on your stomach forming and demanding attention. You pull slightly at his hair, which makes him shudder, and in retaliation he grazes his teeth over your sensitive nipple, almost biting it. You moan heavily, legs rubbing together.

“Is someone growing impatient?” he teases, as his head moves down to start kissing at your fluffy stomach.

“Yes…” you whisper, not really bothering to hide it.

He giggles and you see him pull himself back up so he is face to face with you. Eyes still filled with lust and want, but the purest loving smile on his lips.

“Always so honest, my sweet kitten. One of the reasons I love you so much.”

You chuckle a bit too, momentarily forgetting the aching throb between your legs to pull him down for a slow deep kiss, the kind that never failed to melt your bones. But when his hand goes past the top of your pants, pressing directly against the skin of your bulgy thighs, the kiss grows hungrier and needier. Soon, his hand is on your soft inner thigh and his thumb is running up and down your damp panties, your whole body shivering under him.

He pulls back from the kiss to kneel beside you, eyes glancing back into yours as he slowly pulls down your pajama pants and, with them, your panties also. Leaving you completely bare in front of him. He licks his lips, hands sliding up the side of your legs and positioning himself in between them, so you open your burning center to him.

“So, so pretty…” he whispers, this time more to himself than to you. “I wanna taste you, kitten. Let me?” He stares at your eyes and all you can do is close them and nod your head, your sex growing wetter just from the suggestion.

Kissing up from your bent knees, Jimin reaches your middle way too slowly for your liking. Your hips jump up from the mattress at the first kiss of his lips against you, making him have to pull you down and have both hands squeezing your hips to keep you steady. He leaves small pecks up and down you folds, before using his expert tongue to part them. Breathy moans and whimpers escape you, your back arching and head falling back at every stroke of his wet member against the most sensible bundle of nerves on your body.

Clawing the sheets, you try to quiet down as he becomes more relentless, more hungry, more demanding, kissing your silky womb so deeply that his teeth brush against you.

“Don’t hold back” he demands, coming up from between your legs to look at you, mouth glistening with your juices already. “You make the prettiest sounds, kitten. I want to hear all of them.”

The sight alone pulled at the knot inside your stomach, but when he delved back in, tongue entering your pulsating hole, swirling around the deepest it could go and rubbing at your inner walls, as the same time his nose rubbed against your clit, you truly came undone. You moaned in high pitch as your legs pressed against his head, hips convulsing around him and fluids gushing out for him to drink.

Feeling all your muscles relaxing and your skin flushing with such pleasurable release, you breathe deeply and try to regain coherent thoughts. Jimin is kissing up your body, small pecks and lingering lips up your stomach, your chest, your shoulders and neck until he is inches away from your lips.

“You always taste so good, my love. I could eat you up forever and be satisfied” he says, brushing a few hairs out of your blushing face. He kisses you then, his unique taste mixed with yours. Lips moving against each other, sucking and nipping, you feel him rubbing slightly against you thigh, hard and throbbing underneath his pants. Your inner walls twitch with a renewed longing.

“Do you think you can go again?” Jimin asks against your lips, hands squeezing your love handles. “Think you can make those beautiful noises again for me? Let me see your pretty face as I pleasure you again, my perfect kitten?”

“Yes, Jimin. Yes, please” you breath out shakily, already aching for him again.

Not needing further incentive, Jimin pulls away from your embrace just so he can discard of his clothes, coming back into view as naked as you were. Your hunger only increases at the sight of his thick and pulsating shaft, already leaking from the absolute need to be inside of you.

Legs opening as he positions himself on top of you, he kisses your lips once more at the same time he pushes in, the feel of him finally inside and reaching places his tongue couldn’t already making you moan into his mouth. But he his groaning too, slowly pulling almost all the way out before pulling back in.

“Ah… Y/N! Oh, kitten, you always feel so good around me. So impossibly soft and snug! Ah…”

His thrusts pick up speed, his dancer hips falling into a quick but steady rhythm easily, one that drives you mad with how tight your abdomen feels, how hot your skin becomes from the inside out. You are holding on to his forearms as he grabs your fleshy sides, skin glistening with small drops of sweat that just make him that much more ethereal.

You are taken by surprise when he stills his hips, hands going to your back and pulling you up to a sitting position, with you still attached to his lap as he is now on his knees. Face to face, chest to chest, eyes set on each other, hot breaths mixing together, you raise your hips as he lowers his, only to crash back together in the middle, enticing deep throaty moans from both of you.

His eyes never leave your face as yours never leave his, your hips thrusting against each other and bringing you both closer and closer to the edge. At each descent of your heavy hips, your bud of nerves brushes against his skin and you know you won’t last much longer, still sensitive from your previous climax. But by the way his hands are gripping tightly your love handles and your rump, hips moving more erratically and breathing getting heavier, neither will him.

One particularly deep thrust has him rubbing exactly where he needed deep inside you and you gasp and scream as you convulse around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see explosions behind your eyelids, legs shaking and back arching into him as your hands hold on to his shoulders for dear life.

“Oh, fuck, you look so sexy like that…! Kitten, I can’t… I can’t!”

And before he could even try to finish his sentence, he is holding you tight against him as he buries himself deep inside you, warm spurts of his fluids spilling inside you as he grits his teeth and his body jolts slightly against yours.

Completely tired and spent, you both fall to your sides, bodies still mangled together in a constricted embrace, neither willing to let go of the other just yet. Feeling absolutely stress and doubt free, you smile against the skin of his shoulder.

“I love you, Jimin” you whisper in the quiet room.

“I love you too, kitten” he rubs his nose against the temple of your head, too lazy to try and reach for your lips to kiss them. “That was the whole point. Was I not clear enough about it?”

His own self-doubt actually makes you laugh, the notion of him thinking he didn’t make you feel loved enough after what he just did being so utterly absurd to you.

“I heard you loud and clear” you guaranteed him.

“You better. Or I’ll have to do it all over again” he threatens.

“No, next time it’s my turn to show you” you decide, hugging him tighter. You feel him smile against your hairline.

“Oh? I like the sound of that” he admits.

“You would. I know how much you love praises” you tell him.

“The best ones come from you. And I never get tired of complimenting you in return, love.”

Sighing happily, you both stay in bed for a while longer, enjoying the day off to keep each other company and demonstrating your love for one another in the simplest of ways. With small loving gestures and kind flattering words.

#bts #bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #chubbyreader #jimin #bts jimn #jimin x reader #btsxchubby reader #chubby reader #praise #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #kpop smut #smut #bts fluff #request

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ginger-nightmist · 4 years

Text

Day 7: Nonagenarian

5.0 Spoilers; Kohanya musing on the Crystarium and the Exarch instead of sleeping, until a ghostly visitor sings her to sleep.

When she lies in her room at the Pendants, Kohanya can always swear she feels the weight of history, crushing down upon her. It may be a ridiculous idea; she knows there is not even a full century to most of the buildings and rooms. Ishgard has over a thousand of years of war and suffering and struggle, yet being there lies upon her as gracefully as a handknit shawl curls around her shoulders. Here, she feels stiff, as if bound in starched and ironed edges, a late arrival when she was expected and needed so long ago.

The years drape on her like layers of petticoats when the Exarch watches and speaks to her, shaded in the heavy overhang of his hood, hiding all but the hauntingly familiar shape of lips. A century of waiting to call her, of grasping and grabbing the wrong people. Of leaving her friends empty shells, of nearly costing her life to Zenos, or Ta's. Of his actions putting those dearest to her at risk, as Estinien fled in pursuit of the Garlean prince after her rescue. She is still bitter at him, a constant low seethe of resentment that lingers in her belly like nausea, but at the same time…

She sees how the people react to him here. Warm, welcoming. They feel safe. It is hard to correlate, against what she thinks she once knew, yet it almost, almost makes sense. 'Tis true he's been gracious and welcoming, with small, charming flashes of humor. She only wishes he was honest and open as well. Perhaps she is spoiled by honest politicians, Kohanya thinks, rolling over onto her left side to face out into the room, towards the shutters, still standing open to the night air. The cause of that, too, lingers in her, the hollow ache in her gut beneath the resentment, the way she feels she can feel the shape of her bones, beneath the skin, as if they radiate a constant, low-grade heat. The sensation stings, itches, as if swarms of gnats or mosquitos had slipped within her flesh to bite and feast.

She's sure it will fade, eventually.

"Hey."

Her body doesn't move, but her eyes shift, finding the translucent form leaning against the wall by the dresser. In another time, having her own personal ghost of a former — she doesn't want to call him an enemy, really, given how it all ended — foe? as her own personal companion might have been distressing. After everything else on the First, she has instead found his presence oddly soothing, in much the same way that merely being near Atara can calm something in here, or how Ysayle and Minifilia sang to her heart of family of familiarity and kindness, rather than scorn and distaste.

Kohanya makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, awaiting his follow up.

Brilliantly blue eyes meet hers, just enough lighter than Haurchefant's to be distinct, far too dark for Aymeric, far too bright for Estinien. Too kind for Zenos. Blue and blue and blue again, she sometimes thinks she is drowned by blue eyes.

"You're worrying instead of sleeping, yeah?"

Sighing, the scholar scrubs a hand over her own eyes, blood at night, spilled wine on the floor. "Yeah. Familiar with it?"

His expression is not a smile, precisely, but there is something a little softer, and a little gentler in it, considering her. "From my friends. I was never much of one for philosophical musing in the dark. If that's what it is, and not that you miss them?" He puts a little emphasis on the last word; the second night after Lakeland, with the light fresher and hotter in her bones, too raw and scraped for sleep still, she had talked to him for long hours, more for having someone safe to spill secrets too, for who else would see him, who could he tell? If a ghost wanted to judge her lovers, it could not harm her, but he had not, simply looked wistful for a long time and told her he wished he'd had the courage to acknowledge things he had once known but never spoken about, and that he was glad she had.

It was surprisingly kind, from a wraith who had been wandering alone as long as this tower had existed here. "No. I mean, yes, always, but right now, just over-thinking."

"Well," his voice is still so soft and welcoming and she wonders again, who he was in life that he is so open to her now. It's not just desperation for contact; she's sure, somehow, that he feels that warmth and draw too, the way she finds it a little easier to relax with him there. "I know a solution to that. Close your eyes."

Uncertain but willing to try, Kohanya lets her lids drift down over her eyes, closing them away. She can't hear any movement but she is sure, somehow, that Ardbert has come closer, stepped next to the bed.

When he starts to sing, they fly open again, the tune soft and low. A lullaby. When he catches her gaze he stops and laughs. "You won't fall asleep if you do that. This used to work for a dear friend of mine, just keep them closed and focus on the sound." Nodding mutely, feeling almost compelled, Kohanya rests her eyes once more, wondering which of the other warriors of his time he did this for.

As the melody starts to trickle into her feline ears, the thought falls away, and she loses herself in the rhythm and words, until sleep is carried by the tune and washes her away.

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv writing #kohanya

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shootingcookielover · 4 years

Text

Warnings: Uhhh Remus being Remus, I think, otherwise... Kidnapping, I suppose and... Attempted murder?

Prince Roman had come to face the Serpent, had come to cut the beast's head right off. And he was going to! Becaus he wasn't scared.

At all. Remus was wrong.

Remus was always wrong.

So Roman entered the caves, sword firmly grasped in his hand. When he reached the biggest cavern, he stopped. (It wasn't because he was too afraid to go further, there couldn't be any bigger caves than this one. Surely.)

He drew in a deep breath and yelled, voice barely shaking from anger, not fear: "Serpent! I've come to slay you, foul beast!"

His words echoed along the vast room around him and he felt very small all of a sudden.

He couldn't hear anything but his own echo for a bit, but when that finally died down, his heart sunk into his stomach.

Some kind of... Scratching sound was heard, but also that sound that a body makes, a body that's dragged along rough stone. (He remembered vividly that time Remus had pulled one of their servants' kids on the ground for an entire day. Roman had found it odd and a bit off-putting, but they had seemed to both enjoy themselves, so he had left them to it.)

But there was also the distinct ruffling of fabric and, on rare occasions, a blink of something yellow reflecting what little light there was.

Roman should have brought a torch, he thought, but it was too late now. He gripped his sword tighter, raising the tip against whatever may come from the darkness.

His heart dropped all the way to his feet when the serpent stood to it's full height in front of him.

Whereas before the vastness of the cave had made him feel inferior, now he felt so utterly and incredibly small, he could barely breath. He took a hesitant step back, but no more than one.

Somewhere deep in his brain there was still that thought, that stubbornness, that he wanted to prove he wasn't a coward. It kept his feet rooted to the spot, even as his sword shook with his fear.

The serpent let out an amused chuckle that sent spikes of terror and adrenaline through Roman like fireworks.

The beast shifted again, but it was too fast and the cave too dark for Roman to know what it did.

Not until giant fingers grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him off the ground with ease.

Faced with a situation like this, some fight bubbled up inside him. He thrashed weakly, quiet pleas and sometimes threats falling from his lips, but nothing he did affected the Serpent.

The fingers only gave him a bit of a shake and the sword, already held in a fumbling, weak grip, clattered to the ground, alongside his crown. The only token still connecting him to his kingdom, tumbling off into the darkness below.

Any and all fight left Roman as the beast flicked it's wrist just so that he was atop it's hand.

It had raised him towards it's face; half of it oddly human, while the other clearly wasn't.

"You've come to slay me?", The creature questioned, one hand dramatically indicating itself. "I'm almost flattered!"

Roman didn't know how to respond, couldn't, even if he had known how to. His voice seemed broken and all that fell from his lips were fragments of sentences never quite formed in his fear-addled mind.

The Serpent hummed and Roman felt his breath catch, felt his heart studder and his adrenaline spike. His mouth clicked shut and he was afraid. So, so afraid.

"Well, assuming you have given up on that, quite frankly, impossible endeavour...", The beast's eyes moved across Roman's comparatively small frame. Took in the details of his hair, left a mess by the crown he'd worn before. Took in the red sash neatly tied across his torso, the white clothing and the obviously expensive brown leather boots. "I think I'll keep you."

Finally, with the last bits of desperation and terror and utter confusion, Roman managed to ask a question. "W- what?!"

Not a long question, but a question nonetheless.

The Serpent chuckled, not answering the Prince's question, not even with one of it's own. Instead, the beast reached out with a finger of it's unoccupied hand and gently stroked Roman's head.

"You're cute."

Not even a repeat of his earlier question made it past his lips this time. All he managed were distressed gurgling sounds that were vaguely worrying, but not enough so that the Serpent noticed.

It slithered off, into the depths of it's domain, carefully clutching a tiny human in it's hand. A human that realized with sinking dread that, no, that cavern hadn't been the biggest one.

Not by a long shot.

His steps were soft and inaudible in the damp air of the cave. Instead of a lit torch he carried with him a lamp, not yet housing the flickering light of a flame.

He didn't intend to draw any attention to his presence, not now anyway.

He was here for one purpose and one purpose only; to get his moron of a brother out of trouble. That idiotic twin of his had somehow thought that running of to fight a gigantic Naga was a good idea.

Roman didn't even know the creature's name, for the stars' sake!

Remus stopped in his tracks to stare at the darkness in contemplation. Logan was rubbing off on him.

A giggle escaped him as that thought was accompanied by the most pleasant of visuals his mind could conjure. Oh, how he wished Logan would make more of those delightful screams he seemed to be bursting with!

A joyful skip to his walk, Remus continued down the tunnels. Knowing his brother, Roman hadn't bothered to step out of the main cave into one of the side ones.

And people thought Remus was the dumb twin.

Maybe he was, he mused, as he skipped along and kicked some water up from a nearby puddle. He was following his brother into certain death, after all.

At the mouth of the fourth cavern, Remus stopped. Perhaps to revel in the delicious thought of a cavern-monster that just waited for travellers to step past it's mouth, so it could crunch them with it's rock-column teeth before swallowing them.

Or, perhaps, because he caught sight of something. Of something familiar.

Through the thick darkness he could make out the vague shape of a crown and a sword. While he'd never been quite as good at vision-enhancing magic as his brother, when he fell to his knees next to the items, he knew they belonged to Roman.

He didn't mind the cave's dampness seeping into his pants from the ground, didn't care about the chill digging it's way into his legs, settling into his bones.

He only cared about his brother.

With shaking fingers he reached out, one carefully tracing along the edge of Roman's most priced possession - a katana that had been custom-made just for the prince.

It was sharp as ever, giving Remus a small cut along his fingertip. He didn't care about that either.

He numbly picked up his brother's crown and sword, gathered them into his trembling arms.

"Roman...?", He whispered into the cold, uncaring darkness of the cave-monster's belly.

He received no answer, of course, and he hadn't expected to. Not if he was being entirely honest, and there was rarely a time were Remus was anything but entirely honest.

His legs shook when he stood, they didn't shake anymore when he stepped out of the cave.

Warm sunlight chased the cave's chill right out of him, but there was something deeper, darker it could not even reach. Something that had settled into Remus' soul the moment he'd pieced together that he would actually not see his brother again.

Logan sat not too far from the entrance to the tunnels, a book propped up on his lap. Remus would have found the sight endearing, had he not been carrying the last remains of his brother.

The royal advisor looked up when he heard Remus' steps. With quick movements the book was packed up and Logan was on his feet, approaching the dour looking Duke.

"Is Prince Roman--"

"Dead.", Remus said, not caring that he had cut the other off. He stared down at the items in his arms. In the daylight it became even clearer that these were Roman's.

That tiny scratch in the metal right beneath the third crystal, the one Remus had made and always refused to answer Roman about. The small chunk of metal that had come off when Roman had fallen out of that tree in the courtyard, the one that looked a bit like a hunching figure.

The crystal that looked just a bit too smooth, a bit too round, a bit too different from the others.

"He's dead.", He repeated, as if needing to clarify. "Roman is dead! Killed by a snake or a cave or maybe a fallen rock!"

Remus clutched the crown and sword tighter.

A hysteric laugh bubbled forth from the prince at that.

"Could you imagine that, Logan?! The great prince Roman crushed into tiny little pieces of flesh and meat and bone and skin and brain, all scattered underneath a rock?! Inside a cave? Never to be seen again?!"

He laughed more, he felt light-headed, tears were falling from his eyes. "Buried under tons and tons of earth, never able to get a proper burial pyre!"

Logan placed a calming hand on Remus' shoulder and the Prince's laughter ceased. There was only pain in his eyes, not a trace of mirth as he looked into Logan's eyes.

"That thing killed my brother, Logan.", He mumbled, arms tightening around the sword and the crown once more, not caring that the blade cut into his arm.

"I'm going to get my revenge. I'm going to kill it, too, Logan. I'm going to cut it up into tiny little itsy-bitsy pieces while it is still alive, to hear it scream and cry and yell and beg in agony for it's worthless life, but I will not spare it. I will never spare it. Do you understand, Logan?"

The royal advisor could only nod, already he was forming plans in his head on how to best help the prince. The only prince, now.

Remus gave a mirthless smile and walked past Logan into the forest, soon disappearing from the cave's field of vision.

He left only a small trail of blood behind.

So uh

The fic I made to go with that piece of art up there that was pretty much just a doodle

Uhhhh yeah hope you like it. I'd like to continue it, but I know I won't have the motivation/energy to see it through to the end so. Uhm. Maybe there'll be more, but probably not.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #art #fanart

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Hickory Dick-ory Dock (baon)

Summary: A prequel to the series, a glimpse at how Sans and Red's relationship got started.

Tags: Kustard, Angst, Ecto-Genitalia, Sex, Antagonism, Brats to Lovers, Lemony Goodness

Notes: Okay, this is the last kustard one, I swear, Edge and Stretch just needed a little break after everything that happened. Besides, with all this Sans and Red stuff coming up, I thought it might be interesting to see how they started out.

It's swell! Watch out for that lemony goodness!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was either too early or way too fucking late to be awake, and Sans’s body hadn’t decided on which one yet. The only chair in the room was as shitty as the rest of the furniture, stiff-backed and with the kinds of stains it didn’t pay to think too deeply about. Not really worth sitting in except for those moments where someone shouldn’t be having a cigarette but still was. Supposed to be no smoking anywhere indoors, but in a motel that prided itself on a cash-only, Sans didn’t think anyone would be chasing them down for a cleaning fee.

Of the two vending machines by the elderly ice maker, only one of them worked and it reluctantly parted with a can of Pepsi for the rip-off price of two bucks. Not even an honest swindle, it was piss-warm and unsatisfying, even for someone without a proper throat.

The tiny bottle of whiskey he’d nabbed earlier on the plane was of a decent sort, though, helped smooth the path down, and by their powers combined, it was teetering on the edge of acceptable. Not like they were going to be here for long, anyway. Sulking about it would be petty waste of precious little time.

“you gonna offer me some of that or keep it for your private party?”

Sans glanced at the bed, but Red didn’t bother opening his sockets, still sprawled out in the wreck of the sagging mattress. A corner of the sheet was draped over his pelvis in a parody of modesty and the colorful splatter on his femurs made Sans idly think of the modern art at the museum Blue dragged all of them to a few weeks back.

Sans took a deliberate sip from the can, then a drag from the cigarette, holding in the smoke long enough for it to start seeping from his sockets before he exhaled it. “dunno, haven’t decided. maybe i like a solo act better.”

That got him a single socket opened, a thin rim of crimson showing. “yeah? was getting the idea earlier you preferred a duet. i spent the better part of an hour sucking you off, and this is the thanks i get?”

“isn’t it supposed to be the thought that counts when it comes to gifts?”

“uh huh, and what i’m thinking is it should be your turn to make your way downtown,” Red shifted, drawing his knees up and letting them fall to either side. The tangle of the sheet gave tantalizing glimpses of pelvis and the beginnings of a swirl of magic within it. “c’mere, little boy blue, come blow my horn.”

Sans snorted and crushed out the cigarette on the scarred old desk, leaving a blackened mark that matched a dozen others. “like i’ve never heard that before.”

“i know you haven’t,” Red gave him a sly, sulking look and rolled to his side, giving Sans his back, and yeah, he got the unspoken insult there. “you’ve never fucked anyone with my crushing wit.”

“mother goose ain’t exactly phd material and you might be crushing, but i’m the one pounding tonight.”

Sans hopped down from the chair and snagged the can, carrying it with him to the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress, trailing an idly finger down the intricate curves of Red’s spine. That was worth a faint sigh, exhaled through a jagged-tooth smile. Fondling the sensitive cartilage between each vertebra was better, Red arching into the touch with a hissed groan, undulating between that generously stroking hand and the stained sheets.

It added to the novelty of the occasion, could tack that sight right in with all the other scenery Sans never expected to see. Lovely bones, gleaming palely in the neon light creeping in through the slatted blinds covering the windows. The scars littering Red’s bones were predicable, but discovering the slimness of them beneath that ever-present jacket wasn’t, smaller even than Sans, all bulked up and hidden beneath heavy layers.

None of that made Red any less dangerous, but then, that was part of the fun, now wasn’t it.

His hand got lazy while Sans was taking in the sights and Red made a complaining sort of sound, rolling onto his back and stretching. The sheet, already doing a poor job at an attempt at modesty gave up even that, sliding completely loose. That left nothing covering Red but the remnants of come, still tacky yet, smearing as Red ran a pin-sharp fingertip up the inside of his femur. Sans watched, rapt, as red and blue mingled, sullied into purple.

“give me that.”

For a split second, Sans lurched obediently forward, ready to crawl between those femurs. Then he saw that wickedly sharp smirk curling up and noticed Red was reaching out towards the can that was starting to crumple in Sans’s too-tight grip.

It didn’t pay well to show Red any weakness and Sans swallowed down his flusterment, handing it over. Watched as Red tipped it back and swallowed down half the can in a single gulp. There was probably a pun to be made there, getting hit hard with a soft drink, but instead he only watched, tried not to think of what his eye lights were revealing as he stared at Red licking his teeth, the tips tinging to crimson as he nicked his own tongue against them.

“you gonna come down here or just enjoy the show?”

“i was about to leave,” Sans said, slowly. Like it wasn’t a lie and he wasn’t sitting here without even his shorts on. “paps will be wondering where i am.”

All the ambassadors were tucked away in their own five-star hotel, none of them suspecting their head of security and his second had skulked off, leaving them with the rest of the bodyguards. They were safe as houses, had to be or Red never would’ve been coaxed off, but Paps might come to his room, might ask for a bedtime story or just a chat.

“yeah, can’t let your little brother know you’re sneaking out to fuck around with me, now can you?” Poisonously sweet and okay, Red could, and did, get away with murder all the fucking time, but Sans wasn’t gonna let that slide.

“that how you want to play it?” Sans let a smirk of his own work its way loose. Like this lovely secrecy was for his benefit? “oh, miss mary, quite contrary, you want me to call him? i can give him the room number, see if he wants to stop in and verify. probably some paperwork that needs done, ain’t there, the bossman fucking his subordinate, bet he’d volunteer to help, he likes filling out forms.”

“you’d need form 109b, you’re the one who fucked me,” Red’s eye lights glittered with unnamed emotion. “hoping i’ll call you on that?”

“go ahead, if you think i’m joking, i could use a few chuckles."

“bet you could. i’m all about the jokes, but 3 am is a tough crowd.”

Sans ran his tongue along the even line of his teeth, considering. And then he went for blood. “we aren’t meeting up at roach motels to keep secrets from my brother. tell you what, wanna give the edgelord a call, instead? bet he and stretch are already done banging for the night, all curled up together for beddy-bye.”

“it’s 11am back in the states, i’m more likely to interrupt some meeting.” Oh, but there was blood in the water now, and fucking shark that he was, Red could smell it.

“great, then asgore can listen to our first ever porn podcast.”

Sans reached for his shorts and dug out his phone, humming as he pulled up Papyrus’s contact. “i don’t worry about my bro. let me give him a call, then you can call yours—”

His phone clattered to the floor as Red slapped it out of his hands. Sans kinda hoped it wasn’t broken, he wasn’t gonna have time to get a new one in the morning before all the meetings started and sitting there without candy crush to keep him entertained would be an endless nightmare.

“you gonna fuck me or not.” The words caught on a snarl, Red’s eye lights shading into a deep, harsher crimson, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

Sans hummed thoughtfully. “you gonna give me something to fuck?”

He did one better, rolling onto his front and forming ectoflesh from just beneath his ribcage to the tops of his femurs. The generously rounded globes of his ass were a bribe, but Sans wasn’t too proud to be cheap. He cupped them in both hands, firm flesh but with comfortable give.

But he wasn’t quite ready to be bought. “needed a nice cushion for some pushin?”

“you’re bitching at me for mother goose when you’re putting out that shit? fuck me, already, before i die of boredom—hnn!”

Seemed polite to wait until he was at the end of a sentence to push two fingers into his cunt. So slick inside, already practically dripping with want and Red whimpered as Sans worked to coax out a little more, pressed in another finger just to feel the hot stretch around his knuckles.

“huh. think i like your mouth better when you aren’t speaking,” Sans teased. He worked another finger in, all that slippery wetness making it easy. Yeah, much better like this, gasping and whining, mangling obscenities while Sans scissored his fingers inside him.

"yeah? think this is gonna shut me up?” Red managed to gasp, "gonna have to try harder than that, i could take your fucking fi—gah!!”

"what was that? seemed like you had something to say, sweetheart." Red gave it another try at the same moment Sans gave a little thrust with his fingers, letting them glide in and out, riding that silky wetness as Red’s curses tangled in between whines. In the interest of both their orgasms, it seemed best to reach up and push two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to suck on them and hoping Red didn’t take the opportunity to bite them off.

Instead, a moan vibrated through his phalanges, the slick little tongue between his fingers made him think of other places that mouth had been. Tight, hot little mouth almost as good as his tight little pussy and yeah, it was kinda vulgar to pull his fingers free, slip them still wet between Red's legs to rub his clit but the lovely little writhe he did excused it.

"oh,” Red groaned out, “that's…oh, fuck, you – yeah, just –"

Might be better if he took the continuing effort at speech as a compliment. Not difficult to do with the way Red was pushing back at him, wriggling and rolling his hips in a way that could never be taught, could only be known. He felt the sudden clench around his fingers as Red started to come and quickly pulled them out, left his cunt clenching on nothingness while he scooted back away.

Even as Red spat out curses in the ruins of his orgasm, Sans caught hold of his hips and dragged him up to his knees, hastily forming his cock. He rubbed it along the wet slit, but Red was squirming so much beneath him he slipped away on the first try.

“hold still!” Sans slapped one asscheek, and Red howled…and did it, spreading his knees wider to let him line up. Then he had to catch his own breath, that long, easy slide inside, surrounded by wet, clenching pussy. Easy, too easy to dig his fingers bruisingly into the giving ectoflesh of Red’s hips, lifting him to make the angle that much deeper. His rhythm was shitty and desperate, no finesse left to him. Sans could only drive in as hard as he could, his hips slapping against that generous, crimson backside.

Didn't matter, Red was along for the ride, both hands braced against the headboard and wood shavings curling around his razor fingertips as he dug them into the cheap particleboard. The room was a cacophony of conflicting sounds, flesh and bone striking, the bed frame creaking, and both of them breathing like they were about to dodge a blow. The sudden feeling of Red tightening around him in a sweet, constricting ripple made Sans gasp and listening to his choked, desperate cry as Red convulsed and came again was almost as good as coming himself.

Almost.

The air around them was thick with the scent of their sex, sourly spicy and nothing sweeter to soften it. Sans sagged down on top of Red, ignored his grunt as he let him take all of his weight, and breathed it in.

~~*~~

The sky was only graying with dawn when Sans woke up again. The bed was empty next to him, only the stained blankets and sheets to keep him company. Sans managed to crawl out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, gathering up his wrinkled t-shirt and shorts along the way.

Shitty as this little hotel managed to be, the mildewed shower still had plenty of hot water and Sans basked in it, scrubbing away the night before with the sliver of complimentary soap.

The cab ride would only take fifteen or so, but he still wouldn’t have time to get changed when he got back to the hotel where the ambassadors were staying. Paps would scold him for wearing the same thing as yesterday, loudly and with vigor, and groan at whatever puns Sans offered before slyly offering back one of his own.

But he wouldn’t say anything about Sans being gone all night in front of the others, those questions would only show in his worried glances, and soft, secret questions about whether Sans was being safe.

Damn shame Sans didn’t know the answer.

For now, it didn’t matter. Time to head back and play nice in front of the Ambassadors, and put on some sunglasses so no one could see if he fell asleep. Maybe tonight he could persuade Red out again and they’d give Humpty Dumpty a try or even Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Worth a shot.

He hummed as he stepped into his rumpled shorts and slipped on his t-shirt. If he hurried, he’d have time to grab coffee. Maybe this time he’d bring one for Red, too, the way he liked it for once, hot and bitter black.

Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kind, just this once.

-finis-

#kustard #underfell sans #underfell #keelywolfe #by any other name #lemony goodness

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