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amerrierworld · 3 years

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Little Songbird (pt 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you... sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,087

Warnings: The extra Smut Chapter ;)

The next day, you were a bit exhausted from the previous night’s... activities. But you set about work the same way as usual, though buzzing with an unusual excitement about the evening to come.

You were working on repairing a rip in one of your old dresses. You really wanted to impress the Lady and look as good as possible, now that she had taken a liking to you. As you worked, the head maid asked you about your previous night’s duties while preparing lunch.

“It wasn’t all bad.” You kept your gaze on the hole in the dress you were mending as she prepped ingredients. “The Lady seemed very preoccupied. I don’t think I was much of a bother.”

“That’s very rare,” another maid cackled while peeling potatoes next to you. “She always looks at us like we’re the dirt on the bottom of her shoes. But I suppose the pay is good.”

“Not freezing out in the cold is very good pay, I agree,” the head house maid said dryly. “I suggest you try to keep it that way.”

The maid looked flustered at the comment and scampered off, intimidated by her gaze and muttering something about more things to be done. You bit your lip to stop from smiling.

“How was it really, my dear?” The head maid turned to you, a much kinder look in her eyes now. “The Lady can be a touch.. harsh.”

“It was fine, really. I didn’t know she had a piano until now.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve never heard her play myself, but I’ve heard stories she used to perform. Especially around holidays or important events.”

“Really?” Your mouth gaped a little as she explained. “I didn’t know she was that good at piano.”

“Oh, no, dear. Not piano. She would sing. It’s a bit sad we haven’t heard her sing at all in our time at the castle. I suspect it would make her a little more approachable. But that may not be what she wants. I’ve heard she was quite a talented singer though...”

As she kept talking, the needle had stilled in your hands, your body freezing at the sudden revelation. Lady Dimitrescu, a singer? Surely not.

“..Are you alright?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, thinking of how she would sound, what she would sing, and if you would ever get to hear her sing.

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” You kept pushing the needle through the fabric, trying to remain calm. You felt your body tingle as you remembered the way she wanted to hear you sing. “I have to say, it is quite surprising.”

“Our Lady is definitely full of surprises.” She patted your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts and your half-stitched handiwork. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to focus on any tasks for the rest of the day now.

Later that night, you hurried to sneak through the hallways on your way to your Lady’s bedchambers. You really didn’t want anyone to see you on the way, since you had no supplies to have an excuse of a chore to be done this time. There was one maid who caught your eye, and she gave you a curious once-over as you walked by in your nicest dress, looking like you were going out rather than going to bed.

When you got to the door of the room, your heart was thundering in your chest. Your hands had gotten sweaty, and you didn’t understand what was so stressing for you. She had seen every inch of you already, had stripped you on top of the piano, and made you come like you never had before.

You delicately rapped your knuckles on the door, and waited for long, agonizing moments for a response. When none came, you became curious. You turned the door handle and pushed. It opened with no resistance, and there seemed to be no noise coming from inside the room.

You poked your head inside, and was once again astounded by the sheer size of the room. Against your better judgment, you slipped inside and shut the door behind you. Being early was always a good thing, you decided.

Since Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t there yet, you had time to take it in. You were drawn to the massive bed, and the dark red sheets that adorned it. Probably the best colour choice, you figured, considering the high risks of blood stains on any surface in the entire castle.

You approached and ran a hand over the edge of the fabric, marvelling at its silkiness and expensive textures. It reminded you of everything Lady Dimitrescu liked to wear; expensive, silky, smooth...

The door slammed open, ripping the quiet thought out of your brain, and there stood Lady Dimitrescu. Her expression was fuming, angry, but it didn’t seem to be directed at you, because the minute she saw you standing in the room, it softened in confusion. Like she had forgotten you’d be coming.

You let go of the sheets and clasped your hands behind your back, curtsying quickly in fear of her anger and not wanting to step out of line. She nearly scoffed at you, and took a few long strides to the vanity, sitting down heavily on the bench.

“Help me with my dress.” Her tone was curt, demanding. You paled a little, thinking this night wasn’t gonna go how you expected it to, but still doing as she said. You were a maid, after all.

With her seated, it was easier to reach the buttons along her back, and you made quick work of them. But when you stepped back and she didn’t make any move to get out of her seat, you realized she wanted you to get the entire garment off her.

Her pointed gaze at you in the mirror disappeared from view as you approached the open back and pushed the two halves of the dress aside like peeling delicate fruit. You couldn’t help it; you ran your hands along the thick skin of her back as the dress fell off her shoulders, revealing a tantalizing bra clasp right at eye level that you could have undone quickly if you wanted to.

“You’re being quite bold, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu finally spoke, her voice deep, sultry, but not gentle like it had been last night. There was an iciness to it that stung. Your hands had been lingering a little too long on her skin.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you said, stepping away as she got up to her full height and let the dress pool at her feet. You saw heels in your view and stockings raking up long legs, but you didn’t dare look any higher.

“Oh, pet. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She ran a hand over your head and walked past you. Your instincts kicked in and you picked up the dress to fold tidily on the vanity’s bench. The slightest touch from her fingers made you shiver, and a blush crept up the back of your neck.

“Look at me, sweetling.”

You turned around to face the bed, where she was sitting, one leg swung over the other, hands perched behind her on the mattress. Yellow eyes looked at you and you gulped for air at the sight of her.

“You’re allowed to look, darling. It would be a bit inconvenient if you weren’t.”

Your cheeks were burning now, but you finally let your eyes wander down her frame. Her lingerie was the epitome of femininity, yet dark and sultry, just like her. The black lace hugged her curves. Her stockings were held up by a garter belt, and she kicked off her heels with one smooth jerk of her legs.

Her tummy folded in when she was seated, and her thighs, though muscular and lean, were thick and looked strong enough to crush your entire body if she wanted to.

“Come here.” That familiar voice zapped through you and you approached the bed, briefly wondering if what you had heard about her singing talents were true. You supposed it wouldn’t surprise you. As a lady of her standard, learning an instrument or musical skill must’ve been a required lesson for her etiquette.

She picked you up to sit in her lap, and you squeaked in surprise as she lifted you once again. A chuckle rang throughout the room and you looked up at her, relieved to see the earlier anger had dissipated from her gaze when she looked at you.

“I’m glad you’re here. I had almost forgotten you were coming,” she said, running hands soothingly over your thighs as you straddled her. “I apologize if I was a bit of a sight when I arrived. The staff in this castle is somewhat... incompetent at times.”

So it was the staff that had made her angry. Did another maid try to escape? Enter the cellar? Was there an errand boy that couldn’t keep his hands off of one of the new deliveries?

Her head lowered to breathe in your scent, lingering right by your ear. You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of her so close to her, and you reached out to grip her upper arms that framed your body. You ran your fingers along her skin, and she recoiled for a moment, pulling away.

You froze. Did you do something wrong? Fear etched in your eyes, you looked up at the Countess, wondering if you stepped out of line for touching her. Then her gaze focused in on you and she seemed to relax a little.

“Don’t stop.”

Was it a request? An order? You didn’t mind either way, because now your hungry hands ran over her, feeling the dimples and ridges of scars and stretched skin all over. You explored with your hands as much as you did with your eyes, gazing at her cleavage, the curve of her neck, the muscles in her shoulders.

You ran a hand over her tummy, feeling softness and subconsciously prodding it a little with your fingertip. She giggled at the feeling. Giggled. Her body jostled a bit, moving you about. You liked the feeling and the softness, so kept your hands there.

“I can see a question in your eyes, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, combing a hand through your hair. You cast your gaze downward, running a hand over her skin repeatedly, familiarizing yourself with the patterns of the stretch marks.

“Just.. something I heard today.”

“And what was that?”

You squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if you want to hear.”

A finger tipped your chin up to her piercing eyes, “I doubt it’ll go unnoticed by me, sweetling. Even if you don’t tell me now, I will hear about it.”

Your mouth went a little dry at that. She was right, nothing happened in this castle without her knowing about it, but goodness... the power behind those words made you weak in the knees. Thank heavens you were sitting.

“I was told you used to be a singer.”

An amused look crossed her face. “Is that it? I was expecting you to announce a mutiny at hand.”

You shrugged slightly, delighted in the way her hand reached to cup the back of your neck, a thumb running over your throat. “I was hardly a singer, darling. But yes, I used to.. dabble in performance. Long ago.”

“Is that why you were so interested in my singing?”

She grinned, teeth gleaming. “I was interested in your singing because I was interested in you, little songbird.”

She tugged you impossibly closer, leaning down and running her wicked tongue over where her hand had just been on your neck.

“W-will I ever get to hear you?” you managed to huff out, because now her firm hands were holding your middle, exploring your body the way you had been exploring hers.

“Is that what you want? To hear me sing?”

You nodded, because the low timbre of her voice was reverberating throughout your whole body, and you suddenly needed to hear it singing a tune.

“Perhaps... if you indulge me like I had indulged your last night, you may get to hear me sing too.”

You felt the tips of your ears nearly burst into flames, but you were so desperate... so eager to please. You nearly dropped down to the floor to get on your knees.

She chuckled, “not so fast. I have a better idea.”

Lady Dimitrescu shuffled back on the bed until she was up against the pillows. Shoving a pillow under her lower back, she crooked a finger to beckon you closer, spreading her legs. The sight of her, half in candle light, spread out for you this time, but still in charge, made you swoon.

You crawled towards her and pressed your lips against the inside of her knee. She rocked her hips a little at the feeling of your warm, small mouth on her body, and fisted a hand in your hair.

“I really won’t need any foreplay, dear,” she said in a hushed tone. “Give me your mouth.”

You raced to tug the black lace panties off of her long legs, and were met with the sight of slick, swollen flesh. A carnal desire overtook you, and you surged forwards to press your mouth against her, desperate to taste.

A soft ‘oh’ escaped the giantess at your eagerness and your soft tongue tasting her arousal without hesitation. She enjoyed teasing you, yes, making you beg and dance around the sexual gratification she could give you. But this, your hunger and desire to please, made her warm all over.

“Good girl,” she said softly as your tongue began flicking over her swollen clit, lightly and experimentally. Your hands gripped the inside of her thighs, keeping them steady and spread. She was able to look down at you, and realized her rough gripping had made your hair come undone, causing curls and locks to drop down, loose and wild. Your eyes met hers, pupils dilated, and then you sucked.

The high-pitched cry that escaped her was broken and sudden, and it made your body flood with arousal. Your legs trembled a little, the space between your legs begging for attention.

“Oh, who would have thought you’d be so good with your tongue, sweetling?” Lady Dimitrescu moaned, “I knew you were talented.. but that mouth...”

Her sentence was left unfinished, and she bit her lip, groaning softly in the back of her throat as you kept going. Your fingers rubbed her folds, teased her entrance, kissing and sucking until you could find a rhythm that made her squeak.

A nip at the hood of her clit made her gasp delightfully, so you did it again. The hand in your hair pressed down to bury your face in her cunt.

“Wicked girl,” she growled, and you moaned against her, your face wet. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

You pressed harder, one hand pushing three fingers at her entrance without any resistance as they slid inside. Your brain wasn’t working enough to keep up the pace of both, so you curled them and pressed against that soft, swollen frontal wall, scratching with the pads of your fingertips.

She nearly howled, a string of soft curses and... were those pleads? Her eyes were screwed shut, and you looked up at her strong, soft body. You couldn’t help but reach down and rub yourself through the fabrics of your clothes with your other hand.

Eventually she noticed when she opened her eyes again, and she chuckled, making a point of slowly rolling her pelvis into your face.

“Couldn’t keep your own hands off of yourself?” she said, her voice slurred with arousal. You made a whiny sound, restrained by your tongue and mouth against her cunt.

“I want you to come with me,” she gasped, her thick thighs beginning to shake from approaching her orgasm. You rubbed yourself even harder, eager to do as she said.

Her usually-reserved voice came out in whimpers and low growls, and you sucked hard at her clit again, pressing your fingers deep inside, and her whole body instantly convulsed.

Her cries of pleasure and incoherent words of praise made you topple over the edge shortly after. Her well-kept hair was undone, her mascara a little smeared, and her hands were digging painfully into your scalp. She let go once the last tremors left her body, and you relaxed against her thigh, breathing in her smell and kissing her everywhere you could reach.

“Well done, little songbird,” she cooed, eventually managing to open her eyes again and look at you. “You really are too precious for words.”

You blushed. You extracted your hand from between your legs, grimacing a little at the stickiness of your clothes.

“Let’s get you out of those,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered softly. You let her hands lift you up like you weighed nothing, and strip you.

“But- work...” you made a feeble attempt to get up, but she tutted, holding you closely to her chest, your head resting on her breasts.

“Nonsense. You will stay the night here. You’re in no state to return to your duties yet.” She spoke curtly again, meaning there was no room for argument, but the soft throb between your legs and the haziness of your sated mind already left you limp and jelly-like. You wouldn’t have made it out the door without collapsing even if you did try to leave.

And so, you were bundled up in her arms, the blankets pulled up around your trembling form. She had pulled out a book from her nightstand and let you relax against her body as she flicked through the pages, a quiet peace filling the atmosphere around you. And then you heard it.

With your head pressed against her chest, you heard the rumble of her voice under your ear, and then her soft humming filled the room. You held your breath as you listened to the low, baritone-like notes, and the occasional page flipping of her book.

You didn’t know the song, didn't know if it came with words, or if she had come up with it right now, but it made your heart flutter. Did she know you were still awake?

Eventually, a hand came off of the book and pressed on your head, helping you settle against her warmed skin a little more, and then she spoke,

“Sleep, little songbird. There’ll be plenty of times for you to hear me later.”

A/N: It really doesn’t take much to convince me to write more of a series when I love them as much as this one ;) I hope you have ~enjoyed~

#alcina #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x you #fem!reader #merry writes #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #re 8 #resident evil fanfic #dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #wlw

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duskamethyst · 3 years

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heated.

a/n: first fic of 2021 and i just missed writing smut. i didn’t know how to end it lol but i feel like it’s something that we all can relate.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, quirkless AU

warnings: degradation, orgasm denial, angry fucking, intoxication (voluntarily), car sex, bakugou being an annoying little shit

pairing: bakugou x f!reader

♪ music rec: f&mu by kehlani ♪

summary: you don’t know the reason why bakugou is mad at you and purposely avoid confrontations about it. it makes you pissed and annoyed so you decide to make him taste his own medicine.

“and where the fuck are you going?” your boyfriend glares at you from the couch as he scrutinizes the skimpy dress you have on while you nonchalantly walk from the room and reach for the front door. bakugou has been giving you an attitude these past couple of days and whenever you try to confront him about it, he just ignores you and walks out of the room.

you know something is bothering him when he starts to act up but you grow annoyed when he decides to not talk about it so you plan on doing the same and let him taste his own medicine until he comes clean about what has been going around in his mind. you’re not going to let him have his way all the time.

you already list out the things that could’ve displease him but he probably wants to keep you guessing. he really got on your last nerve so you’re not going to waste time putting up with his childish behavior when he can simply be straightforward about it.

rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him. “i’m going to the club with my friends.”

you miss the twitch on his eye when you turn back around and open the door, wanting to immediately leave the house without sparing a glance back to the angry male.

“i’m coming with you,” he says, making you stop in your tracks before turning to him in confusion. “you heard me, dumbass.”

you don’t know if you’re relieved that he still chooses to tag along with you, considering the fact that he has been trying to avoid you around the house but the thought about how tense the whole car ride would be dreads you more. without leaving you a second to reply anything back, bakugou walks to the room to change his clothes.

you could’ve just ignored him and left but that wouldn’t be the best idea since he’s not in such a great mood so you wait there until he walks past you and steps out from the house.

“the fuck you’re waiting for?” he glances back at you over his shoulder while walking towards his car.

yeah, maybe you should’ve just left him.

and you were absolutely right about the car ride being tense– it easily ruined your mood too. none of you said a word (if not for the fact that he was yelling madly to a lot of people on the road) to each other and you only kept staring blankly out the window. he usually liked to put his hand on your thigh as he drove but you already expected that, judging from your past experiences.

but your mood lifts up as soon as you see your friends again, completely ignoring and oblivious to bakugou’s presence as you swallow down drinks after drinks until you feel completely lightheaded and intoxicated.

bakugou only sits down by the bar as he watches you dance with your friends. aside from wanting to make sure to run up to you if you are to pass out (he tells himself that your friends can’t carry you) or need the toilet to puke, he also makes a mental note to watch if any guys dare to get closer to you. especially when he thinks that you look absolutely stunning tonight. but he also wonders why you have to pick that dress and initially decide to wear it without having him around. he knew he would have to tag along even when he didn’t really want to.

and there comes one hungry wolf.

bakugou observes as the man slowly creeps up behind you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder and immediately draws your attention to face the stranger. he leans closer to whisper in your ear while you try to listen through the blasting music and process through your clouded head. bakugou hates to admit that the man isn’t that bad looking but he knows that you’ll push him right away and not because he is in your presence– but because even if he’s not around to look after you, he believes that it’s something you would do, so he was never worried to let you go out with your friends.

and his eyes remain still at the two of you. for the most part, he only wants to witness the rejected look on the damned dude who even dared to lay his hand on you. the bastard should’ve realized that you’re way out of his league and maybe he would save some embarrassment for tonight.

seconds pass by in minutes and you still haven’t pushed the guy away. instead, you entertain him and the whispers go back to back between the two of you as if sharing some sort of secret that only you both know. it suddenly makes him feel like he’s the intruder gawking over another guy’s girlfriend.

from his fixed gaze, it’s almost as if bakugou hasn't blinked. he doesn’t miss the giggle and the smile on your lips as he wraps his arms around you before swaying your bodies together while your perfect ass brushes against his groin teasingly.

you should know better not to do that. you should know better that your boyfriend can easily knock the guy out, doesn’t matter if he’ll get kicked out for it. you should–

oh, you know alright. and you know well what you’re doing.

the moment you turn your linked bodies to face his way with a smirk tug on your lips and the guy burying his face on the crook of your neck– he realizes that you’re trying to push his buttons.

bakugou is fuming from his seat. though the look on his face sends shivers down your spine, you can’t deny that it also makes you feel hot and bothered. but bakugou is not one to easily back down from a challenge. it’s petty and a waste of his time but a small piece of him wants to see how far you can go and he’s daring you to.

it’s starting to make you feel annoyed when he still hasn't moved to pull you away so you try to step it up and provoke him further. with the guy’s hands around your body, you start to guide them down your hips and place them on your thighs, almost letting him touch and taste the sweet nectar in the middle, but not quite. your pussy is already aching for some relief but still, you’re not one to let a random stranger help you with it.

bakugou’s hands are balled into fists– so hard his knuckles are turning white as he glares at the hands that you easily let roam around your body. the same body that only he is allowed to touch and leave marks on but he still owns the thinning patience spared inside him and continues to watch what tricks you have up your sleeves for your next act before he blows up.

you think his persistence tonight is quite surprising. usually he’d already pull you close without a second thought when a guy even dares to glance your way for too long– but at the fact that one is currently having his hands all over you? you think it’s pretty impressive at how long he’s keeping up.

so you decide to amp up.

you turn around to face back the man around you and wrap your arm around his neck. the hands that are resting on your thighs shift on your hips again and you take the chance to roll your hips more erratically to bait him into moving his hands further down to your ass by his own will.

like a moth drawn to a flame, he does just that. he shamelessly places his hands on your ass and gives it a light squeeze before shifting lower to the hem of your mini dress and deliberately grazing his fingers against the skin on your butt cheeks.

“in three… two… one…”

the guy holding you is suddenly shoved further away as your body is pulled to another muscular build. you look up to see your angry boyfriend, his red irises matching the wrath in his eyes as he glowers at the startled man.

“fuck off.” bakugou snarls and pulls you away with him before the guy can reply anything back to him. bakugou won’t be able to hold himself from beating the fuck out of him if he spares even a millisecond longer in there.

you feel sorry for using the guy, but it has been fun. bakugou’s reaction is definitely what you’ve been yearning for and your efforts have been deemed to be fruitful. that’ll show him what he gets for giving you the cold shoulder.

“katsuki, you’re walking too fast!” you complain, clicking your heels to match his pace as he has his grip on your wrist. bakugou opens the back seat of his car and forcefully pushes you in and makes you stumble on your back before getting in himself and closing the door shut.

bakugou drags you closer to him by grabbing your thighs and you blink up innocently to him when he looms above your figure in the confined space of his back seat.

“‘suki?” you feign innocence even as your thighs are already pressing together from staring back into his intense and fiery eyes.

“don’t give me that.” he snorts. “acting like you didn’t know what you did.”

“did what?” you reply coyly, jutting your bottom lip into a pout.

“oh, you don’t know?” bakugou presses your cheeks together with his hand. “open your mouth.”

he eases his grip on your face and spits in your mouth as soon as you oblige, “that’s what sluts get. swallow it.”

to spite him, you do as you’re told with no hesitation and swat his hand away, “you deserved it, asshole.”

a look of amusement quickly washes across his face, “i think you should be put in your fucking place.”

“yeah? make me.” you challenge.

“brat.” he smirks before his hand reaches under your dress to rip off your panties. you look at him in disbelief as he brings up the cloth to show how well he just shredded the pesky cloth off of you. “your favorite? oops.”

bakugou lifts up the hem of your dress to your waist and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes as he sees how you’re already drenched. “i haven’t touched you yet and you’re already this wet?” he chuckles. “a fucking dirty slut, aren’t you?”

“then it’s probably because the guy was touching me earlier.” you say mindlessly and the cocky look on his face instantly falters, his eyebrows furrow as he remembers back the show you put on from minutes ago.

“then you won’t be needing me to touch you, right?” he sneers while his thumb teasingly ghosts over your aching clit. “won’t be needing my tongue to clean up this dirty cunt, yeah?”

a pang of regret washes over you. maybe you took it too far just to spite him or maybe he’s just good at turning the tables around. either way, you know he’s trying to get you to beg for it.

the silence from your side tells him everything he needs to know. bakugou can play this petty game too and he won’t let you win so easily. “are you going to beg for it, brat?”

the relief you’ve been wanting is right in front of you yet bakugou wants to be an ass about it.

“no? you can go back to that fucking sleaze to help you out with it.” he jeers.

“if i wanted to, i would’ve done it already.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to his hand but he slaps your thigh instead.

“really? what do you actually want then?” he squeezes the supple flesh of your thigh and watches you squirm underneath him.

you look anywhere except his menacing gaze, “want you, ‘suki.”

bakugou slaps your thigh again, “look at me and say it.”

you nibble your lower lip and offer him your puppy eyes as you look up at him. “want you ‘suki, please. need you.”

“do you think you deserve it?” he snickers. this time, he’s generous enough to press your neglected clit but that alone easily sends sparks down to your core. “do you think you’ve been a good girl for me?”

“n-no.” you whine as you wriggle your hips needily for a tiny bit of alleviation.

“and do bad girls– no, dirty whores get to cum?”

“‘suki, please– i’m sorry.”

“good,” you look at him in anticipation as he tugs down his pants and briefs but he sits down in front of you instead and strokes his cock with his hand. “go ahead and show me you’re really sorry.”

looking at him dejectedly, you still get up on your knees to take his cock in your mouth. you want to start off with kitten licks on the tip but his hand is quick to grip the back of your head and forces your head down to take all of his cock until it hits your throat.

you choke and try to muffle something out but his hand leads you up and down his shaft as your tongue slobbers all around at every inch.

“fuuuck– what’s that?” he chuckles as he watches you struggle to take his fat cock all the way in that your eyes begin to get glassy. “whores don’t get to talk.”

bakugou’s head falls back as his hand continues to guide you down his length. his lips part to allow his soft groans to escape, eyes heavy as he focuses on your puffy lips wrapped prettily around his cock.

he holds your head still as he bucks his hips upwards and the tip instantly hits your throat again. you try to take control again, working your gag reflex and running your tongue up and down his cock and give special attention on the tip.

“fuck yeah. just like that.” bakugou growls.

glancing up to the male, you can clearly see how much bakugou is enjoying this– his eyes closed shut, chest heaving as breathy moans slip from his mouth. an idea strikes you and you start to think back how you even end up here. why do you bother giving him what he wants? weren’t you trying to make him learn his lesson? the look of pure bliss on his face only serves to be a provocation for you to proceed with your devious plan. what’s the worst that could happen?

so as your saliva slobbers all over his thick cock, wet and erotic that the squelching noises are able to drown his own grunts, his hips jerking as he reaches closer for his high– you bite the tip of his cock.

bakugou’s eyes shoot wide open as he yelps and pushes you away from him. a string of curses rips from his throat as he takes a few moments to regain himself but when he sees the smug look on your face, it only acts as a fuel to the blaze that was already starting to douse inside him– and you’re definitely going to pay for it.

“you fucking brat.”

he grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you down on your back again and lifts up your legs up to your chest. he slaps your clit before he sticks his tongue out and starts to lick a fat strip of your wet slits as you writhe in pleasure. your eyes immediately close and your nails dig the leather seat of his car.

“look at me when i’m eating this fucking pussy.” he spreads the slit open with his fingers and teases your clit with the tip of his tongue.

you shamefully turn your head to his direction, his irises ablaze with the usual perseverance to make you cum on his face while his mouth is attached to your cunt and his hands grip your thighs firmly to hold your legs up and spread. lewd squelching sounds echoes in the car and your breathing starts to hitch as you feel the coil inside your guts twists and turns tightly.

your legs start to tremble when he uses his finger to flick the aching bud and his wet muscle delves into your sopping hole. bakugou is nose deep inside your cunt, diligently laps off your essence like a man having his last meal.

“mmh– ‘suki– so good! gonna cum–” you cry as your hand grabs a lock of his hair to grind his face closer to your pussy. his mouth latches onto your clit, groaning a repetition of ‘mmph’s against the sensitive bud at how your tight hole is practically sucking his finger in with each of his thrust.

“yeah? gonna make a mess on my face, baby?” from the firm grip on his hair, bakugou realizes that you’re close. his eyes gaze upon your face– forehead glistening with sweat, chants of mewls and moans escaping from your gaping mouth that a bit of drool is already trickling from the corner and eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy.

“yesyesyes– fuck!” you pant, toes curling in your shoes when the tight coil inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. “‘m gonna cum!”

and as you are about one step closer to your release, bakugou abruptly pulls away.

“you never learn your lesson, don’t you?” even through the dim lights of the parking lot, you can visibly see your juices glisten on his chin and the tip of his nose. “sluts don’t get to cum.”

your eyebrows furrow as you only silently watch him lean back on his seat and wipes his lips with his sleeve.

“i’m giving you a chance to start over,” he taps his thigh twice while the other hand pumps his hard cock, the tip flushing with a bead of precum. “show me you deserve to cum.”

you get up almost instantly before bakugou shifts in the middle to make space for you to prop on your knees in between his thighs. he guides you by the hips with his free hand, explicitly displaying his control over you at the moment before allowing you to impale yourself on his dick.

“how much do you want it?” sets of hazy, passion-filled eyes stare up at you while he teases your swollen clit with the tip of his cock and smearing your juices with his pre.

“i- i want it so bad, ‘suki.” the clench of your hands on his broad shoulder tenses at the sensitivity. you can see sweat already formed on his head and neck from the lack of ventilation in the car.

“hmm… and?” a grin etched on his lips as he spanks the flesh of your ass, hard enough to make your body jolt and a yelp to escape from your mouth.

“a-and i need your cock to make me full.” you whine, rolling your hips a little as if to relieve the annoying itch that you’ve been dying to scratch but couldn’t.

“so needy,” he tsked, guiding his throbbing cock down and halting just under your hole agonizingly. “lucky for you, i like needy little sluts.”

bakugou leads you by the hips to pull you down and hisses when he finally impales inside you. without wasting time, you start to desperately bounce on his fat cock and his hands find their way to grab your ass.

“fucking perfect– hah– so tight.” he leans further on his seat and watches his dick appear and disappear perfectly inside your sopping cunt in trance.

the praise serves as encouragement inside your head and causes you to ride and grind harder, completely heedless over how the car looks from the outside; bumping up and down.

the temperature in the car starts to rise and so are your bodies. vapors are already tinting the windows from the results of your heavy pants and none of you even mind about how suffocating it feels breathing through the dense air.

your body leans towards your boyfriend’s as your lips’ collide to a sloppy kiss before a loud moan tears from your throat when his grip on your ass tightens and rams his cock inside you relentlessly.

“look at you,” bakugou grunts over your shoulder as he continues to pound while your body arches over how good and deep he is inside that you can feel the tip brushing your cervix over and over. “fucked like a whore.”

the degradation makes you feel hotter than it should and you can only whine in agreement. as your orgasm gradually builds up, you quickly sense your pussy clenching tighter around his cock and feel every vein that brushes against your wall.

“mmmhh– so good!” you sob as your mind turns hazy, body trembling again once the same coil begins to twist and turn tightly and begging to break.

“wanna cum on this fat cock, don’t you?” he growls against your skin and smacks your ass before picking up the pace and fucks you harder. “let me hear you.”

“i– cum– please!” you try to form cohesive words in your head but nonsense babbles are the only things leaving your mouth.

bakugou lets out a haughty chuckle. “i can’t fucking–” he slaps your ass again, “hear you.”

through his teasing, even his own pace starts to stutter from how good your cunt is milking his cock but cumming first would mean losing.

“t-too much!” your hand curls into a fist through his hair. “wanna cum wanna cu–! ah!” you whimper in a chant before your eyes roll back and a huge wave of orgasm washes throughout your body and finally sends you into a state of frenzy.

“that’s it, baby.” his sporadic thrusts continue, making you whine from the overstimulation but he can feel that he’s already close from the twitch of his cock. “gonna fill you up.”

you can only hold on to him for dear life as he increases his faltering pace again until he can finally cross the bridge that leads him to his own high.

“f-fuck–!” bakugou bites your shoulder to muffle his moan and the clench on your ass that never left becomes stronger as he releases his hot cum inside you.

bakugou unlatches from your shoulder when you wail from the stinging pain and snickers to himself while he takes time to regain his composure. you push back his wet bangs with your fingers and place a chaste kiss on his sweaty forehead.

“so are you gonna tell me why you were mad?” you murmur, pulling away and sitting next to him before he pulls his pants back up. bakugou ponders over the reason with a furrowed brow and walks out from the car to take a heap of fresh air instead.

you’re too tired to get irritated this time, so you slip to the front seat and open the door to take a breather yourself. when he gets back into the car, he turns on the engine and the air conditioner before letting out a deep sigh.

“because...” he mumbles quietly just enough for you to hear and avoids looking at you straight in the eyes. “you retweeted a spoiler from the manga i’m reading.”

“wait, what?” you don’t know if you want to laugh or get mad because you’re sure that it had a spoiler warning and it wouldn’t be entirely your fault.

“shut up, dumbass. it fucking ruined my whole day. i don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Text

Let's talk "Fertility Saint Cichol" for a bit, shall we?

No one requested this, I just wanted to let my mind wander on its own for once lol.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

cw: cock worship, deep throating, me being a shameless size queen

NSFW 18+

* and spoilers I guess idk

You've only been in Seteth's quarters a handful of times before, and always with him present. Today, however, it seems work has kept him late, and so you meander around his room, trying to occupy yourself without being overly intrusive as you wait to meet him for tea. Truthfully, there isn't much to see. A tasteful four poster bed with curtains drawn, several bookshelves, a work desk- as if he needs more opportunities to work, you think with a bemused smirk.

So, to keep busy, you choose a light bit of reading at random from an uncharacteristically unruly pile on the floor beside Seteth's desk. It appears to be an anthology of some rather fantastical tales centering the saints. As you skim through, you can't help a grin. Evidently, Cethleann was 9 feet tall and her hair was a literal flowing waterfall, while Indech once gave birth to a pegasus (the pegasus later rejoined his physical form somehow- it's rather vague about this point- which is why we've never seen physical evidence of it, so this text claims).

And then you reach a collection of poems dedicated to Saint Cichol. Your eyes scan the page, narrowing as they proceed. With each line, your face warms to a darker shade of red. It's... shockingly salacious. A fertility God? Goddess blessed manhood of awe-inspiring proportion? Virility that fills barren riverbeds?!

You're so consumed by the collage of erotic imagery conjured into your mind that you barely hear the door open behind you.

"My apologies for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting terribly long."

"Oh- not at all!" you say, turning to face Seteth as he enters. The stress of the work day is smoothed over by the warmth of his smile on seeing you. But he must notice something strange about your expression, as his brows furrow in curiosity. Then, he notices the book in your hands.

"Goddess help me- of all of the books you could have-" he quickly strides towards you and seizes it from you, tossing it back to its pile, "Please assure me that you didn't take any of that- that filth to heart." he says, his face twisted in exasperation as he runs a hand through thick green hair.

"Seteth, relax," you say with a gentle smile, "I figured it was all a bit..."

"Baseless conjecture is what it is- and heretical, at that," he says with disgust, crossing his arms and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Clearly I ought to have been more prompt in disposing of these particular texts."

You sympathize with his frustration, to be certain. Still. Your eyes can't help wandering up and down his frame before you and... you wonder.

"So... there's no truth to anything in there?" You step towards him and silently urge him to open his arms to you. He sighs and leans back against his desk with his hands gently at your waist.

"Nonsense, all of it- particularly that part about 'barren riverbeds' or some such." Despite his mood, his face flushes red at the reference to such claims on his own potent virility. You're not even fully conscious of the smirk spreading across your face, but you lean against him and run your hands slowly up his firm chest. Seteth has been rather demure about intimacy thus far. As of yet, you've hardly even seen beneath the starched collar of his robes. Perhaps this is the time to learn a little more about him.

"That book claims that you're the patron of fertility." you prod further. His chest rises as he inhales slowly, and you swear you can feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

"Yes, well- it was a... fringe belief several centuries past. I am- Saint Cichol is the only noted figure in the church known to have produced a child," you hum with interest, and by now, your body rests against his, and your hands have traveled down his torso. Seteth rambles on, glancing to the side and attempting the same tone he would use with a student, "the elemental association with the earth was also a factor, so I- I was... often prayed to for blessings of..."

One gentle hand reaches below his belt, and you gaze up at him for any sign of resistance or hesitation. He doesn't stop you, and doesn't look like he wants to. Your touch travels beneath his outer robes, between his thighs, where you immediately feel the heat of his manhood beginning to resist the confines of his clothing. You palm the impressive bulge, noting that even half-soft, he carries more than most men do at their full size. Seteth's posture stiffens, his eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. With an odd rasp in his throat, he whispers your name. Then, he pulls you close and kisses you with an intensity you'd always suspected he had in him somewhere.

As his lips press to yours, massaging yours slow and firm, your tongue grazes his, tentatively at first. He responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and running his tongue sensually against yours. You moan into his mouth, the friction between your bodies absolutely intoxicating, and your hand begins to stroke his manhood more firmly from atop the barrier of his clothing. His length hardens to your touch, growing in your hand as though to plead for more. Parting from his lips just enough to speak, you murmur,

"How long has it been since someone properly worshipped you, 'Saint Cichol?'"

Seteth's voice catches in his throat as he repeats,

"Worshipped...?"

Before he can question you further, you carefully lower onto your knees before him. Your touch is slow and indulgent as you enjoy the feeling of his now-massive cock straining against his pants. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him thoroughly transfixed by the sight of you prostrate beneath him, and your lips curl into a wolfish grin. Both of his hands come to grip the edge of the desk behind him as you part his robes and tug down the hem of his trousers.

The sight of that tower of flesh springing free to loom over you immediately sends urgent arousal flooding through your burning body, and you fail to hold in an excited whimper. Your pupils grow wide as you size him up with unabashed hunger in your gaze, and you can't even bring yourself to notice how tightly your fists are clenched around the front of his clothes.

"Goddess, Seteth-!" you gasp out, bringing a hand to wrap around his cock at the base, "You're so big...!"

He clears his throat, shyly turning his face away, as though he could possibly hide his conspicuous blush and flustered expression.

"I, er... thank you, I suppose..." he says softly.

"I can't even get my hand all the way around it..." you go on with evident awe in your voice. Slowly, savoring each impossibly thick inch, you slide your hand up the length of his shaft and down once more. Seteth inhales deeply. He must be rather sensitive; in fact, you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with someone intimately in some time.

"Are you... are you certain that you want this?" he asks, finally allowing his eyes to meet yours directly. You almost laugh.

"Seteth," you say as though scolding him, "I'd want to pleasure you regardless, but now that I know you have such an incredible cock, I can't think of anything I want more." He bites his bottom lip, his knuckles white as his fists clamp hard on the desk. Your smirk becomes only wider and more devious. Despite himself, he's clearly enjoying your praise.

"I can certainly see how this gorgeous cock would inspire... devotion, of a kind," you say, your hand traveling his length once more, this time merely to appreciate its shape and size. He groans softly, still fighting desperately to hold his voice in. With a feather-light touch, you run a single finger along the underside of his shaft, tracing a prominent, bulging vein. "I've never seen another that's even come close to yours, Seteth," you say, jerking your hand slightly at its base, "it almost seems a shame to keep it all to myself. Surely there are plenty who would like the chance to worship and adore their beloved Fertility God."

If your blaspheming bothers him any, he can't bring himself to reprimand you for it. Instead, he murmurs,

"I've no desire for any but you."

In reply, you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the crown of his cock. Seteth utters a shaky sigh of pleasure, and his length twitches subtly in reply. You raise your eyes to look up at your Saint.

"Can I taste it?"

"You may." he says softly. His stern brow is deeply creased with intense focus as you begin to work your lips around the head of his cock. It strikes you immediately how even wrapping your mouth around him only highlights how thoroughly this massive pillar puts any other to shame.

Seteth breathes out your name in a low, heated voice you've never heard from him before as you suck at his tip. Your lips seal around the ridge of his crown and you circle and flick him with your tongue, lapping at him all over until you feel his member throb for you. Each twitch and flex of his length is more powerful and more potent than the last, driving you to keep servicing him, to seek out those wonderful affirmations of pleasure.

By the time you dare to try taking him further into your mouth, your body leans against his legs, your hands clinging to his muscular thighs for leverage. Though, perhaps you've become over-eager; as you push yourself onto him, his cock burrows deeper and deeper, hitting your throat and then continuing to fill it. You struggle to open up for him as much as possible, grimacing as you fight your gag reflex. You're just barely past half of his full length, and he's pressing out against your throat enough to create a visible bulge. Seteth's body arches and his head tilts back as he groans your name. Then, you're forced to release him and come up for air.

Panting softly, you mutter,

"Damnit, I can't even reach the base."

"You... should not force yourself..." Seteth manages between strained breaths. As he steadies himself against the desk, you switch your focus for the time being. You begin at the root of his cock and drag your tongue up along the underside, following that same lovely vein you discovered earlier. With open adoration in your eyes, you go on to service him thoroughly with your tongue, licking and kissing every powerful, masculine inch of his rod. Then, when he's well and completely covered in your saliva, you grip the base and lead the tip to your mouth once more.

Dedicating yourself once more to your worship, you suck on his cock eagerly while steadily stroking what amount of it you can't reach in your hand. Your saliva slickens his shaft so that your hand can pump him steadily as your lips and tongue adore his tip in tandem. Seteth gasps aloud, his head leaning back once more to moan out his pleasure into the quiet of his quarters. Just once, you feel his hips buck toward you just a little- but he grits his teeth and holds himself in place, evidently worried for your comfort even now.

You increase your pace, wrapping your mouth tight and warm and wet around his enormous member, ever encouraged by Seteth's beautiful moans. Your tongue presses along the bottom of his shaft, causing him to rub firmly along the top of your mouth with every pass, and by now, you've even surprised yourself with your near obsessive desire to please him. Perhaps there was something to this "Fertility God" angle after all.

"If you... if you don't stop, I-!" Seteth bucks against you once more, and once more he fights to keep himself still, "I won't... be able to hold back...!"

Needing a way to assuage his doubts without pulling away from your sacred duties, you redouble your efforts instead. You take his thick cock into your throat until it hurts, threatening to make you choke each time you force yourself onto him, but you hold fast. The full length swells and throbs from tip to base, and Seteth is crying out your name like a plea. The strength of his grip actually causes the desk supporting him to creak, but you can't be bothered to care- you need him to cum for you, you're desperate for it.

Then, finally, with a tortured groan and a few choice words you didn't realize Seteth had in his vocabulary, his body trembles and his orgasm takes hold of him. Thick, hot cum pours into your throat, and you immediately swallow the first couple of shots, but it's not long before you're completely overwhelmed. Perhaps you should have eased up, rather than continuing to stroke and milk him with your free hand, but the dizzying thrill of his climax seems to be affecting you as well. When you simply can't take any more of him in your mouth, you pull away and allow him to spill the rest across your chest.

You look up at him from your worshipful position beneath him. You imagine you make for a sinful sight, subservient to his cock and now a mess of saliva and cum. And there is a moment- a brief, fleeting moment- when you can see something fiery and animalistic in Seteth's gaze as he regains himself enough to check on you. Yet he quickly suppresses it, and says,

"I- I apologize, I allowed myself to get carried away, and-"

"Seteth, please," you say with a laugh as you shakily rise to your feet, "it's just a bit of cleanup. A small price to pay for the chance to finally pleasure you."

He smiles sheepishly in return, helping to steady you, then placing a light kiss to your lips.

"I hadn't realized that you were so eager for the opportunity," he says, stroking a lock of your hair back into place, "If you will allow, I'd be honored to clean you up a bit and then return the favor."

"That sounds positively divine." you reply, and you're swiftly lifted into Seteth's arms and carried towards his private bath. Your knees still ache from the hardwood floor, but you hardly consider it for a moment. You're already looking forward to the next opportunity to show your devotion to your Saint.

#seteth #seteth x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #not sfw writing #fire emblem smut #seteth smut

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years

Text

Light and Dark Part 29 (Appendix J.P.1)

Well, I hope you haven’t forgotten all about James and Baby. Because it just might be that they have a history worth exploring a bit further...

Please keep in mind that this goes back to when you and James were younger, so you haven’t gone through that maturity that you do together (in the A/U universe) yet.

“Lying back on top of your bed, your legs naturally wrapped around James’ waist. As the two of you kissed, pressing your soft tongues against each other and breathing out in time with each other, you both started to move slightly against the other, gently pushing your hips against each other’s warmth. You moaned softly and wrapped your arms around him. You wished he’d kept his shirt on, if only to give you something to clutch tightly, but then again, you’d trade the warmth of his body on yours for anything, even if meant having to hold back and little and be more careful so you wouldn’t leave nail marks all down his broad back.

As strong as James was physically, he was a bit of a whiner when it came to any lasting pain. Usually, the very thought of remembering how badly James had whined the first time you’d accidentally marked him up made you giggle. He’d been so very pouty with you all day, asking you to gently rub his back while he curled up next to you, his large, muscular body all hunched over to try to melt against your much smaller figure. He also chased your kisses all day, telling you he definitely deserved long, soft kisses from your lips. That was how you’d found out you liked those drawn-out, gentle, and breathy kisses with James.”

- Light and Dark, Part 10

[Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Nonconsent.] [Warning: Reference to Scratching/Blood/Scars.] [Warning: Reference to Rough Sex.] [Warning: Emotional Dependency/Possessiveness.] [Warning: Hard to Explain, But Concepts of ‘Hurt’ and ‘Possession’ Mixed-up with ‘Love.’ In Short, Confused and Immature Notions of Love.] [Warning: Fluff Overload.] Basically, if you do not enjoy stories that touch on neediness and are rather fluffy, please do not read this one. I also want to say explicitly that this is fantasy. Any harassing and/or non-consensual behavior is totally unacceptable in reality. And of course, in reality, loving someone should not translate into taking unpleasurable/unwanted pain or degradation from that person, or anyone else.

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

❦ Click Here for Light and Dark Home Page (All Chapter Links) ❦

“Baby,” James moaned. He sidled his head between the book you were holding and your lap. Behind his nerdy glasses, he gave you a wide-eyed, innocent gaze – but you knew better than to fall for it.

“What is it?” you sighed. James had been groaning all morning, and it had been about the same thing –

“You hurt me.” As he spoke so earnestly - too earnestly, James looked up at you with what could only be described as doleful puppy eyes.

The accusation made your pride bristle. “I did not,” you protested, and you made to push his head off your lap.

But James clung to you, deftly turning so that he could wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in the softness of your sweater and your tummy.

“James, what are you doing?”

“Mm,” James breathed out softly. “I can see why you like to cuddle now.”

You didn’t respond, trying in vain to continue reading your textbook, which you were now having to hold up in the air. You felt that this bordered on the ridiculous, to have this rather clumsy-looking and broad-shouldered boy trying his best to fit himself into your far smaller silhouette.

“It’s nice being the little spoon, isn’t it?” James remarked conversationally, his voice lilting gently as it always did when he was gearing up to tease you.

Without giving yourself away, you subtly glanced down. With James’ head bowed down, you could see down the back of his collared shirt just a little, and you could make out the tips of the red scratches you’d left on him when the two of you had had a rather frantic, messy, and desperate rendezvous last night.

“Maybe I should’ve cuddled you from behind last night,” James murmured thoughtfully, while still hugging you. “Missionary was a bad decision, now that I think about it.”

“Well, if I knew you were going to be such a crybaby about it, I wouldn’t have done it,” you replied wryly.

James merely buried his head against your tummy even more. Even without his saying it, you knew what he meant. He was asking you, You really aren’t going to show me any sympathy here?

“Does it actually hurt?” you asked him, relenting.

Eagerly and quickly, James replied in his best ‘pitiful’ voice, “Loads. Loads, I tell you. Worlds of hurt, some might even say.”

You rolled your eyes at his incredibly overdramatic answer. However, you finally soothed James a little by running your hand lightly down his back. Still, after only a moment of silence, you couldn’t help except to chide him, “All right, so I gave you a few scratches on your back. You’re a Quidditch Captain, for Merlin’s sake. My scratching you can’t have been any worse than being hit by a Bludger.”

“It is worse,” James insisted, his voice rather muffled by your sweater. “Scratches are worse than bruises.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. They itch.”

“You’re being perfectly ridiculous,” you told him bluntly. “How long are you going to keep moaning about this?” Your hand came to a stop on his back, and you gave him a light slap instead.

James finally lifted his head, though he kept his strong arms resolutely around your waist. “I’m ridiculous?” he asked you, lifting his eyebrow at you. “You left a giant red X on my back, as if you’ve been somehow hiding the claws of a demon in those little hands of yours, and I’m the ridiculous one?”

You should have noticed how James’ eyes flashed behind his glasses, indicating a sudden switch in his persona, but you didn’t notice, as you purposefully picked up your book again and made a point out of continuing to ‘read’ it. Without sparing him even the meanest glance, you replied, simply and shortly, “Yes.”

James’ gaze narrowed ever so slightly. He deserved your attention, goddamn it. You’d spent a good portion of yesterday night marking him up as yours, didn’t you? “So ridiculous you won’t even look at me?” he pushed.

“I just answered you: ye – Mm…”

James suddenly kissed you. I’m yours, he thought fervently, pressing himself to you. Don’t you - Doesn’t that mean anything to you?

“J-James! What are you -?” Your hands came up and met his chest.

“I’m stopping you from being mean to me, baby. Once you get on a roll, you don’t let up,” James mumbled, no longer pushing himself any harder against you and instead letting you hold him back with your hands pressed to his chest, but still ducking his head a little and chasing after your lips. “Swear you’re even worse than Sirius, and that man lives to hear himself think.”

“Huh?” you fumbled, not following.

“He thinks he’s a god whenever he shows a simple sign of life, y’know.”

“Wait, you’re saying I’m worse than Siri - ?” you started to say, infuriated. But James had caught your lips in his again, and he was kissing you so, so well. You found yourself melting into the kiss. “Mmm, James…” you moaned out, without meaning to. You hesitated. As you realized that you’d just let slip such obvious signs of pleasure, you blushed slightly.

Seeing that blush and hearing your voice sweeten like that, James sat up. His arms slid from your waist up around your torso, pushing your own arms up, so that it was only natural for you to hug him back. Only natural… to love him back…

“Ah…” you breathed out softly. But you gathered your wits long enough to mumble, “‘M not worse than - than Sirius.”

“‘Course not,” James agreed lovingly. “I didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart.”

You paused. Your brain was a bit foggy. Breaking away from him for a moment, you blinked awake again before replying with certainty, “I think you did mean it that way.”

“‘S old news. Nonsense and the like. I’m sorry. Just, come here, come back, baby, please,” James murmured to you, hardly aware of the excuses spilling out of his mouth as he reached for you again. He couldn’t bear to have you so close to him, and not be in his lap. That seemed a punishment that no amount of teasing could possibly deserve.

You let James loop you right back in to him, appreciating the way he pulled you in tight against his warm, sturdy chest. But then, James paused, and the sudden stop in his movement in was rather awkward. You cocked your head up at him, a bit puzzled by how he was acting today. “James?”

“Give me your mouth today” he whispered. “I want your kisses, sweetheart. Want them all for myself.” Then, without waiting for an answer, James pushed his mouth warmly against yours. God, he loved the taste of you. If only you knew, he thought. But he couldn’t explain how much he loved to taste you - all of you, and to have your warm, soft little mouth captured in his. It made him sad, that he couldn’t quite tell you, and all James felt that he could do was to keep pushing his mouth against yours and pray that it would somehow spell out love for you, too - like some strange, secret message spelled out in the stars. James could only hope that your eyes would catch his light, somehow, and recognize it as the color of his soul, the very soul that he would like to offer up to you.

Your head slowly tipped back against the wall behind you, until you really were gazing up at the very sky and stars that James had made for you. Your poor textbook had already tumbled to the floor ages ago and the language of such words had already become completely lost to you. Instead, the only symbols that spelled out any meaning for you were the bright lights that guided you home - back to James, of course, for James had been the one to put the stars in the sky for you because he loved you and because he missed you whenever you were away.

Now, your hands, no longer preoccupied by a heavy book, fell lightly on top of James’ shoulders. You steadied yourself a little as he kissed you – Well no, actually, that was a lie. James was holding you so tightly to him that that couldn’t be true. Well then maybe,you thought fuzzily, maybe I just want to – to touch him. To lose myself in his warmth. Yes, something about James is so wonderfully… comforting… I want to be with him, always. You sighed out in pleasure, and James felt your soft mouth breathe out, and he marveled at how affectionate and giving you were now.

“See?” James whispered to you, his lips still hovering just above yours. “You know how to play nice, love.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, before you kissed him again – “Remember, baby?” - kiss - “Between us two,” – kiss – “we decided that - ah -” - kiss - “I’m the one with” – kiss - “good manners.”

“I do remember that. But then, why’d you have to go and scratch my back up like a little hellcat last night, huh?” James asked you. He kissed you again, and his words were barely coherent as he confessed against your lips, “It hurt to put on my shirt this morning, you know.”

You grimaced slightly. Your hands now snuck up into his hair – his awfully messy, totally boyish hair. You gave his locks a little tug, letting James know that you were still rather annoyed with this strange line of affection he seemed to insist on today.

James unabashedly shook his head at you, as if to say, And what have you got to be mad about, hm?

Everything, even the mere fact that I like you so much, you wanted to say, but – oh gods, you just wanted to kiss him again, you wanted his lips pressed fervently against yours so very badly. You could never, never have enough kisses and hugs from James Potter. The sheer desire to press yourself against him even more – your lips, your body, your everything - made you shiver with want in James’ arms.

James, mistaking your light shivers as your being cold, took the opportunity to tease you, “Well, if only someone hadn’t ripped up my back last night, I might have worn my jumper and been able to give it to a certain someone else.”

Your pride flared up inside of your chest. You had been about to lean in towards James yet again, for another sweet kiss, but you caught yourself. Instead, you sat up straight, keeping your head back and shoulders tall, trying to look dignified and regal even while you were fully contained in James’ arms, for he was still holding you and pinning you up gently against the wall behind you.

James gazed at you, taking in the sharpness of your expression and the defensiveness in your eyes. But he waited patiently for his baby to come back to him, to realize that underneath all of his playfulness, he just loved you.

And there you were, sat in his lap, thinking, if only James would come to me and kiss me first… Because you were too prideful to just let him get away with such teasing comments. Finally, you came to the conclusion that one shoddy way to save your pride was to let your own grievances be known.

“Well, I couldn’t walk this morning, so…” you mumbled. “Figured we’re even... at least...” Your voice slowly faded away into nothing, and you stared hungrily at James’ lips instead. All he has to do was lean in a little. Surely, he wouldn’t mind doing that? Surely…

James’ lips curved up knowingly. There’s my baby. She knows. She knows, all right.

“What?” you blurted out, out of the blue.

“I didn’t say anything,” James told you. His eyes crinkled warmly at you as he realized, “But I don’t need to, do I?”

“’Cause you just can’t keep your eyes off me, can you, kitty?” James drawled, evidently very pleased with himself for his own ability to draw you in.

Scoffing, you started to look away, but James quickly caught your chin with between his finger and his thumb. Don’t run away, baby. Can’t you see I want you? I want you so bad I’ll say all kinds of stupid things just to get your attention, sweetheart. You’ve got to forgive me; more than that, you’ve got to love me, even if I am a bit of a fool on days like these, - well, maybe especially when I’m a bit of a fool on days like these, when I can hardly contain myself because of how much I want to be with you. James gently pushed your face back so that he could nuzzle your nose with his. He whispered lowly, “When I made love to you yesterday, baby - ”

Your breath hitched at the mere mention of yesterday night, for James’ words called forth the wonderful, intense memory of his strong, muscled thighs and hips pushing forward as he took you, took your little cunt roughly and claimed it as his own - as his sweet, lovely baby’s. Yes, James had been beyond determined to fill up your tight cunt, so he could fuck you full of his cum. You could still recall the dull thudding that kept ringing out in the room as James’ headboard met the dormitory wall over and over again, until your back arched beautifully off the sheets. You had grasped the sheets on either side of you, ruining James’ sheets and not caring in the least. Crying out with pure, reckless abandon, you had cum – oh, fuck, you came so hard, drenching your thighs and James’ cock with your sweet, glistening cum all over. That, you supposed, was most likely when James had fervently wrapped his arms around your waist and rather impatiently yanked you up. Growling, he’d kissed you, stealing your breath away right when you needed it most – So what choice did you have but to sink your nails into his back and scrabble away until he finally let you part from him just far enough that you could finally breathe…?

“… And you’re gone,” James recognized. His smirk growing ever bolder, his voice fell even lower and became deceivingly gentle as he whispered softly, “Am I that good?” For the thought that you might want him too made his heart flutter.

But even before the anticipation of being loved back could fully form in his heart, James saw that in a flash, your irritation came back in full force. You jerked your head back, away from him, as you muttered, “Sod off,James.”

“But I don’t want to,” James told you, still speaking quite softly. Now, finally, he was speaking the truth. “I don’t want to leave my baby all alone. I hate not being with her. I miss my little hellcat when she’s away.”

That’s the point of all this, you silly baby, James thought to himself, almost somberly. That’s the whole point of me whining to you all day.

“S-Shut up, you’re always speaking nonsense,” you muttered. Yet, to James’ utter delight, you couldn’t hide the soft blush spreading across your cheeks. Damn it, he always pulls out the most ridiculous lines – and I know it, too – but… but it works, you thought to yourself, frustrated and yet too charmed to be frustrated. I can’t help it. I want to be his. I want to run to him and be in his arms, always. You wondered vaguely when the roles had become switched, when James had become the one to soothe you. Well, you thought, the truth is that he’s always so generous with his love. I never have to question that he’s there for me, waiting with his arms wide open to hug me. I realize that I’m not as open about my feelings. I s’pse I could do a better job of being there for him, after all...

Your hands, which had remained, almost helplessly, on James’ shoulders (because even when you were annoyed by him, you didn’t want to part from him, not even for one second) now slowly curled up into tight fists. You held onto the shoulders of his shirt, clutching at him, to tell James through your actions that you, too, hated not being with him.

James smiled, and that smile spread into an outright beam, as James saw proof that he’d won your heart again, the way he hoped to every single day.

“James,” you whispered feelingly. Your voice was so little and so tight. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, you seemed to be saying. I’m here for you, too. Yes, you were waving your little pink flag of surrender, and James knew that. He drew one arm around you even tighter, pulling you onto his lap. You slid right into his lap, so easily that no one could doubt that you belonged there.

With his other hand, James tenderly pushed your hair out of your face. “Are you sorry for scratching my back up?” he asked you.

“Yes,” you finally whispered, nodding a little.

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Then, you’ll agree I deserve some kisses from you.”

“Just for today,” you said softly.

Cupping your cheek, James started to lean in to kiss you. “Well,” he whispered back, his voice slightly raspy with want, “maybe tomorrow, too. ...And the day after that.”

James paused. He glanced down at your mouth, with your pretty lips slightly puffy from so many kisses, and the barest hint of teeth marks just at the side of your lower lip, where James had bit down softly on your lower lip and tugged gently at it, just seconds ago. “Your mouth might as well be mine now, love. It has my marks written all over it,” he told you. “That’s what it means to mark something up, you know - you’re supposed to claim it from then on.”

“Oh... Wait.” James nearly blushed when that last sentence slipped out, for he’d given too much away.

It was too late. The pieces clunked together in your mind:

“You hurt me.”

“Loads. Loads, I tell you. Worlds of hurt, some might even say.”

“But then, why’d you have to go and scratch my back up like a little hellcat last night, huh?”

“Your mouth might as well be mine now, love. It has my marks written all over it.”

And then, at long last, that unintended whisper, “That’s what it means to mark something up, you know - you’re supposed to claim it from then on.”

Finally, you caught on. Here was the explanation for everything that was going on today - James hurriedly tried to distract you by trying to tug you back to him, to pull you into another kiss, but you resisted.

“Well, wait just a moment, James Potter, ” you insisted, pulling back the tiniest bit from him. The flag came down, the gun came up. You took an impressive stance, shoulders strong and feet apart, and you pointed your pistol expertly at James. Sirius Black would have been proud of you, you knew.

James paused, opening his eyes wide, as he heard your halting words stop his dreams in a single instant. He held his breath, waiting for the shot.

However, you smirked at him and remarked cheekily, “I’ll give you all the kisses you want. But if you must know, I rather enjoyed drawing an atlas all over your back. As you said, I traced out entire worlds on you.”

“S-So?” James barely managed to speak aloud.

You lifted an eyebrow at James. “You know what that means?” you whispered enticingly. “That means you’re mine, Jamie. So, how’s this for a trade? You can take my mouth as yours and kiss me whenever you want, but your back is mine to mark up whenever I want. Is that fair?”

“Sure, sounds like a fair trade to me,” James said, trying to play it off as nonchalance. But he could barely hide the smile of utter relief and happiness forming on his face.

“Yes?” you asked, checking with him. “You sure it’s not a losing trade?”

“Well...” James pretended to think about it. Then, he whispered lovingly, “Maybe I’ll hedge a little. Maybe this soft little mouth of yours will be good for more than just kissing, if you get my drift.”

You did, and to show him, you turned your head a little until James’ fingers slipped onto your mouth, and opening your mouth, you sucked lightly at his fingertips. “Like that?”

“Mm, yes, just like that.” James smiled at you. So cute, Baby...

“Anything else?” you whispered, now nuzzling your face sweetly against his palm.

“No...” James shook his head gently. Then, he breathed out and he finally admitted, “...S’long as I have you, baby. And as long as you think of me as yours. That’s all I want. I reckon - I reckon you know that by now. Don’t you?”

James forced himself to shut up, and he held his breath, feeling horribly embarrassed.

But you answered him so easily, almost carelessly, as you replied knowingly “Course you’re mine, you numpty. X marks the spot.”

James couldn’t help except to laugh, which was, of course, his own form of graceful surrender. Fine, he conceded in his head with warm humor and nothing but fondness for you, Baby can outwit me all the time. So, what? That’s part of her charm. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when she’s come to me, all perfect just as she is – right into my lap, right into my hand, right into my heart.

And James understood - just as you understood him - he understood that what you were saying was that those scratches down his back were signs of love, and if they ever really hurt or bothered him, you would be there for him, doing absolutely everything in your power to heal him.

Grasping your face in his warm palm again, James tugged your lovely face to him as he leaned forward. Meeting right in the middle, James’ lips met yours once more. But now, neither of you held back; rather, the two of you kissed each other you deeply and adoringly. It slowly but surely became a kiss that was somehow full of both teasing and patience; immaturity and promises…

Feeling your very heart expand so warmly inside of your chest, you instinctively opened your mouth just a little wider to love James just that bit more - and James paused. He was suddenly extremely sensitive to your every movement. James inhaled sharply, feeling the incredible tension that had abruptly sprung up between you two with this seemingly simple kiss. The two of you stopped, feeling rather shy and uncertain about this intensity humming between you, but neither of you moved away from each other. Neither of you wanted to move away from each other. If this was love for the two of you, then you’d do whatever it took to accept it. That was what you were both thinking.

That was how it came to be that for the first time ever in your young, blossoming relationship, the two of you shared a kiss that lingered so very intensely, that made your very atoms sing in a hitherto unknown frequency of existence. This kiss left you both so vulnerable that you were bleeding love and hurt all over your souls, without even knowing it. Suddenly, everything felt so unbearably tender and sweet that you both had to close your eyes to continue living, to be able to experience the sheer intensity of being with each other this way.

Yes, this way of being: Of soft mouth hovering over soft mouth to share the warmth and breath of love; of shy glances between two pairs of bright eyes that already knew everything about each other; and of the enduring rhythm of two heartbeats passing life back and forth between each other, in time to the syllabic rhythm of whispering, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”

James let out a soft breath, and you sighed just the slightest bit, too - before your lips met with his again, locking into the surefire shape of a loving, rosy, sun-sweet and water-color, hold-my-hand-forever bond of companionship.

#fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #James Potter x reader #James Potter smut #James potter #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter Smut #light and dark #appendices

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 years

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Tattoo Shop AU - a quick, practical guide for writers

Guest Post by lebanon-hangover

lebanon-hangover said: this is based on my personal experience with the industry only, so depending on the era and country you are portraying, it may not be 100% accurate for your setting.

Hygiene

It may not be obvious at first glance, but most tattooists are clean freaks. We work with human blood every day, and we get clients from all ages, ethnic and social economic backgrounds, with all sorts of medical conditions.

We usually mop frequently, bleach the sinks, wipe down everything, and use cling film or bags to wrap everything. I mean fucking everything. We also scrub in, and sanitise the area on the person we work on.

Needles are collected in a sharps bin, and handled very carefully. Medical waste goes in yellow bags, and both are collected by a professional service.

Used ink caps may look full, but the ink gets diluted by blood. Like you dip the inky needle into the person, but you also dip the person’s blood into your ink. These are medical waste too.

Cleaning up must be done promptly after the session. Bin everything disposable, put things through the ultrasonic and the autoclave, and sanitise the area. We may take machines apart, but more for maintenance than cleaning, sometimes we swap parts in them too.

We have two sinks, one for hand washing, one for cleaning.

All inks and needles have use by dates.

The internal dynamics of a studio

Depending on the country, some tattoo shops tend to have ties to biker gangs, and some of those internal dynamics and unwritten rules are often present.

There’s a pecking order and it’s dead serious. Basically the longer you’ve been in a shop, the higher ‘rank’ you are, you get the better positioned stations, first pick of walk-ins, etc (Unless the client is asking for someone by name). Regardless of your actual experience in the industry, like if you move into your old apprentice’s shop, they are still senior to you. If the owner or their partner is an artist, obviously they are on top of the chain by default.

We are self employed, but we have a boss. You are only making money if you are working, but you still have set work hours.

We get paid by the clients, and we pay the studio a cut. In return, there are some items provided by them, and some we buy for ourselves. Usually the chairs, tattoo beds, gloves, cleaning products, clip cord covers, masks, aprons, ink caps, vaseline, green soap, and some basic ink is provided by the shop. We buy our own machines, arm rests, stations, pedals, power supplies, clipcords, tips and grips, needles, special colours, stencil fluid…these are a personal preference, and often depend on the artists’ style.

We totally ask to try out each other’s equipment sometimes, or ask for a certain type of needle if we ran out.

The receptionist is usually just one of us, maybe a piercer, but it also can be a hired person in top studios.

The apprentice in the traditional system is often mistreated, and they have to pay for their education, have to be there multiple days a week and don’t make any money. It’s kind of like a tear them down, build them back up again thing to see if they are really serious about the job. Times are slowly changing, but 99% of them will always need a second job. Most of them are working as bar staff.

When you open a new studio, you must visit all the existing local ones and introduce yourself, otherwise you may get a brick through the window. Otherwise there’s not much beef among individual artists, they are often friends, go to conventions together and party after, etc.

The Artists

Tattooing is a fairly physical job, stretching skin is very important. We have to also keep our clients safely still, so we often use positions to pin them down a bit. Sometimes you hit a reflex point on the foot or under a knee, and you don’t want to get kicked. Sometimes you have to pull away super fast, cos they are sneezing, yawning or giggling.

Most tattooists drink a lot of coffee, tea or energy drinks.

Some people are all rounders, some have specific styles, but we recognise each other’s art styles. Sometimes we delegate work to each other, if we think our coworkers style fits the concept better. For example if there’s a person who does script well, we give them those projects.

We don’t like when people come in with designs from other artists. Art theft is frowned upon, and we work best with our own drawings.

Most apprentices practice on their own legs, and sometimes we tattoo each other when it’s quiet. Most people have cover ups, or bad pieces from their early days. The artists’ own tattoos sometimes are in a different style than what they do, but we like to collect ink from friends or colleagues we admire.

In the first 1-2 years one is an apprentice, then junior artist. At 5-8 years of tattooing, you have earned your stripes and are considered an experienced artist.

Conventions are really fun, but can be stressful. You can make good money working at one, and sometimes get awarded for it too. We can also spend a lot at a convention.

Sometimes we poke our fingers by accident, and it’s a scary thing. Good case scenario is just some random dots on your fingers. Let’s not go into the bad case scenario.

We do guest spots sometimes, just to meet new clients, and change it up a bit.

We spend a lot of time drawing up things, and designs are meant to fall on specific muscles, stretch with the skin a certain way, so they are tailored to the body proportions of the client. A good tattoo is also an optical illusion, complimenting the body shape.

Social media presence is like a second job, you need good photos, and you need to market yourself.

Tattoo ink does not wash out, so some stains are inevitable when pouring it out. Those ink bottles get stuck so easily, and we wrestle them a lot. We try to avoid it, but wearing all dark colours is a thing for a reason.

The Clients

Tattooists need to have a good ‘bedside manners’ too. We get nervous or self conscious people, and we are told personal things during long sessions. For example scar coverups and memorial pieces can be very emotional.

We have pretty good poker faces and first aid trainings. People can faint, get shaky, throw up, some have seizures, have b.o., get sweaty, etc the same way as at a blood donation event? It’s no big deal really. We sit them down, give them some water and some sugar, and re-book them if necessary. Most artists keep some wet wipes, mouth wash, deodorant, sweets, maybe even some clean clothes at work, just in case.

If someone comes in with a wild idea for a jobstopper, we would sit down and have a long talk. If they haven’t got many tattoos, we usually try to stir them towards more safe choices, offering them creative ideas. It’s like those jedi mind tricks sometimes.

If someone is undecided, we show them our own hand drawn flash sheets. Once its gone, its gone tho, we don’t use the designs twice.

Pinterest is full of photoshopped fake tattoos, some that won’t even work as real ink. Many people also touch up their work digitally on photos, so some clients have really unrealistic expectations.

We can totally tell if someone is intoxicated or hangover. It thins the blood, and they bleed out the ink, and it’s super annoying. if it’s bad, they will be sent home and rebooked.

Some folks are self conscious about body hair, their size, stretch marks and scars. Chances are, we have seen similar, and we aren’t bothered by it, because it’s work. Surgery scars, scars from accidents, self harm scars, burns, we see it all the time. We shave some really hairy dudes all the time girl, your legs are fine. Seriously. If something makes tattooing you dangerous we will tell you.

Fit, muscular people are harder to tattoo because they are really firm. Its a workout for us.

Everyone gets midnight messages about the aftercare from nervous clients, and drunken booty calls about getting inked right at this second. We have copy paste replies…

We get creeps sometimes. Stalking, weird conversations, tmi info dumps etc.

Other things to include (for fun, or for plot reasons)

We sometimes have those “oh fuck” moments. We all do, but mistakes can be fixed, and we play it cool.

Tattooing takes time. Usually 30 minutes to multiple sessions though years and years.

Healing tattoos takes about 2-4ish weeks, and your characters shouldn’t go roll around in dirt, sunbathe, swim, pick at the scabs. Nasty infections, and messed up tattoos would be the results.

If you have a strong immune system, and you get a lot of work done in one sitting, you may get a brief bit of a temperature. It’s normal, and will go away.

Its a lot easier to get seriously drunk after getting a tattoo. Be careful.

We sometimes draw on each other for practice with our marker pens.

Tattoos are inside the skin, not on top of it. Imagine a low opacity, skin toned layer over the ink, adding to the healed tattoos’ colour. Please stop making your characters skin fully transparent.

Heavy blackwork and palms are done in multiple sessions.

You can’t cover up moles, because if they develop skin cancer, the dermatologist can’t see the signs.

There’s a stereotype about piercers having blacked out sleeves.

Stencil fluid looks just like cum.

You get that annoying itch on your face when you scrubbed in, put on gloves and finally ready to go.

Some artists have a strong preference for coil or rotary machines, and they bicker about it a lot. Coils are louder, more punchy, and more traditional, perfect for lineart. They can be customised, and they last forever. They are also called glorified doorbells by people who prefer rotaries. Rotary machines are smoother, lighter, and often use needles that are pulled back into the cartridges for safety. They are better for shading and delicate line work. Older tattooists often say they are dildo or butt plug shaped, overly delicate and are for “soft millennials” only.

Every artist owns like 5 to 20 machines, and they have specific machine builders they are loyal to.

The “which cable is broken and cutting out” guessing game. Clip cords and pedal cables get worn out easily, and that results in your machine running really jerky.

Walk-in always show up 10 minutes before closing.

We often look quite silly at work. Sleeves rolled up, folks use all sorts of plastic ppe, headlamps, and we tie up our hair. Add couple of purple smears from carbon paper, and we aren’t scary at all.

#writing guide #writing tips #writing advice #writer's guide #writeblr #writing community #writing #writing help #submission

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Four

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Injuries, Fluff, SPOILER AND TRIGGER WARNING: miscarriage,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: I took a nap so this is a little late, but I hope you guys enjoy!!! Also, I sprained my good wrist at work yesterday lmao so now I’ve got a brace on each wrist. Anywho, here you go! Have a wonderful night!!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND VERY DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

~*~

You spend nearly every free moment with the King now.

He is at your door every morning, waiting to escort you to breakfast, of which he provides all the conversation. Afternoon tea is spent together as well as dinner, all of which you go to simply because you do not have the energy to fight.

However, you would be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company.

He tells you tales of his battles and stories of him and Steven when they were children. He explains the story of how he lost his arm but doesn’t let you see more than his metal fingers.

You find yourself missing him in the moments when he is not with you. And he feels the same. Although you haven’t said a word to him, your presence is one that he longs to have in the moments when you are not with him.

He hasn’t come to you at night yet. Still far too ashamed of his behaviour, and for that you’re grateful. You’re not sure if you could handle being with him in such a way again. Not yet, anyway.

“I hope you like the flowers I sent you. I do not know which types are your favourite, but my mother was partial to daisies so I thought perhaps you may like them as well.” He looks nervous as he pours you a cup of tea.

“If you do not, I shall have them taken back and new ones will be brought until I figure out which are your favourite.” You bite your bottom lip, wanting to speak the single word to tell him which flowers you prefer, but after so much silence you’re not sure you’d recognize your own voice.

He hisses, the teapot nearly dropping down to the table, and you jump, looking up at him in surprise.

“I apologize. My shoulder has been acting up with the coming winter. It does not do well in the cold.” You raise your eyebrows in question and he sighs. “They did their best to fix it, but the nerves are not all proper and there is a fair amount of damage beneath the scarring.”

You hesitantly rise to your feet and walk over to his side of the table, your fingers trembling as you reach for his left shoulder. He stands tall, eyes focused on you as you cup his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt.

Your eyes ask the question that your lips cannot, and he nods. Your shaking fingers move to the buttons of his shirt and you slowly pop one open, then another, and another, until he stands before you with his shirt open.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your eyes roam his muscular torso. He’s built beautifully, and you can’t stop yourself from touching the warm skin of his chest.

He inhales sharply and your eyes snap up to his, hand jumping off of his skin.

“Your touch... it feels nice,” he whispers in explanation, smiling softly at you as you lift your fingers back to his chest. You press your hand against him, his heat warming you to your bones, and the thrumming of his heart pounds against your palm.

Slowly as to not startle him, you move your hand up to his left shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt away and down his arms in the process.

Your eyes widen a bit at the scars covering where metal meets flesh, and you can’t help but feel sorry for the man before you.

Soft fingers brush over the angry skin and James sighs, his eyes falling closed. He hasn’t felt the softness of a woman’s touch in... years.

One of his hands instinctively comes to your waist and you freeze for a moment before realizing back into his touch.

This is easily the most intimate moment the two of you have shared.

You slowly lean forward and press a gentle kiss to the scars, repeating the action when you hear the noise of appreciation coming from his lips.

After a moment more and a few lingering kisses, you pull back. His other hand has found your waist and his thumbs are rubbing gentle circles against your hips.

“This is how we should’ve started our marriage,” he whispers, his eyes shut tightly. He peaks one eye open in time to catch you nodding.

“How I have treated you... it is something I am not sure I will ever be able to properly apologize for. I do hope that one day we will grow to love each other. I... You have not spoken, and yet I am already finding myself entranced by you.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise and he chuckles, one of his hands moving to the small of your back. He pulls you flush against his chest and you gasp softly, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin through the layers of your dress.

“I should have been gentle with you.” His nose dips down and traces gently over your throat.

“I should have treated you like the delicate flower you are. Instead... I deprived you of sunlight and water and forced you to wilt. I only hope... that with the proper care... I can nurse you back to the beautiful bloom you once were.” His lips press a kiss to your throat and you sigh, fingers splayed on his hard chest.

You slowly bring one hand up, shaky fingers threading through his thick hair.

“I-” The door bursting open cuts you off, much to the King’s dismay.

“What is it?!” He snarls, glaring at the intruder. Natalia and Samuel stand in the doorway, Nat smiling widely at the two of you.

“He’s here.” Your stomach drops and you look over at your Husband.

The anger on his face melts away and he takes a half step away from you.

“He... You’re sure?” You can hear the hope in his voice. The absolute unfiltered desperation. Nat nods, Sam copying the motion.

“They’ve brought him to see Doctor Banner, but he was awake and on his feet. From what I gather, he escaped from where we went searching and walked back. He’s... he’s here. He’s alive.” Glossy blue eyes turn to you and you smile softly, nodding at him.

“I promise I will come and get you as soon as I know he is in stable condition. I know he is beyond eager to meet you, so much so that he will put his own health aside.” He leans forward and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before running out of the room, following behind Sam.

Natalia stands in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and a small smile on her lips.

“Come. Wanda has drawn you a bath in preparation for the King’s return.” You and her walk to your chambers in silence, you pondering all that has happened in the span of a few minutes and what awaits you with the return of the King. Nat, on the other hand, is proud of the change in the dynamic of you and James. It’s about damn time he realized what he has in front of him, in her opinion.

The bath is lovely and smells of lavender, however, it does little to ease your nerves.

What if King Steven doesn’t like you? What if King James goes back to treating you badly? What if-

“Stop worrying, Your Majesty. King Steven will love you. And if his behaviour today is anything to go off of, King James will not go back to how he used to be.” You look over at Nat, fear in your eyes and she smiles gently.

“What happened with the King today?” Wanda asks curiously.

“When we got word of King Steven’s return, Sam and I ran to find James. We... interrupted what looked like a tender moment between the King and Her Majesty. And before he left he kissed her in front of both of us.” Wanda raises her eyebrows, a smile on her face.

“Well, I would agree with Nat on this one then. King James has truly been different towards you. One might even say that he has been kind.” You nod in agreement, happy to have gotten one of your questions answered.

“Come now, let us get you dressed.”

You step out of the tub and Nat inhales sharply, her eyes on your rounded tummy.

“Your Majesty...?” You wrap yourself in a towel and give her a nod, letting her know that her assumption is correct.

“Have you told his majesty yet?”

You shake your head ‘no’ then sigh, gently stroking your stomach.

They dress you in a lilac gown that is fairly tight around your midsection. Tight enough to show off the little bump you’ve grown if anyone were to look long enough.

"The Kings will be thrilled! You must tell them today!” Nat exclaims, her face alight with glee. The edges of your vision get blurry and you shake your head, both at her and to try and clear your sight.

“It is up to you, your Majesty but I would recommend doing it soon.” You simply nod, one hand on your stomach gently.

A knock on the door nearly startles you out of your skin.

“The Kings have asked for the Queen,” a male voice says. You exchange nervous glances with the two women, however, they smile encouragingly despite the situation.

You take a deep breath and lift your head up high, determined to make a better impression on King Steven than you did on King James.

Natalia walks with you towards King Steven’s room, the room that the Kings shared before one of them was lost.

As you’re descending the staircase you stop, hand gripping the railing so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t break.

“Your Majesty?” Nat questions, confused and concerned.

You open your mouth to tell her you need Doctor Banner, but nothing comes out. No, instead, you collapse right there on the stairs.

“Your Majesty!” Nat shouts, diving down to stop you from falling down the stairs any more than you already have.

“Someone help!” She shouts, holding your head gently in her lap to protect your neck.

Guards are rushing in, shock colouring their features as they see their Queen on the stairs unconscious.

“Pietro, carry the Queen back to her chambers and have Wanda gather water for her. I need to find Doctor Banner.”

~*~

There are tears in the King’s eyes as soon as he sees his husband.

Steve sits on his bed, eyes trained on the doorway while doctor Banner cleans some of his wounds. As soon as the two are in the same room Steve is on his feet.

“Buck,” he whispers. The brunet takes slow steps forward before reaching out and cupping his cheeks.

“Steve.” It comes out almost like a whimper and the blond frowns.

“I’m here, my love. I’m back.” They embrace tightly, the brunet’s shoulders shaking as he tries to control his sobs.

“Your Majesties... I need to tend to King Steve’s wounds,” Doctor Banner says softly. James pulls away and nods, sitting down on the bed beside his husband.

The two simply gaze at each other for a long moment before Steve finally speaks.

“Is she here?” James nods, a small smile on his lips. “She is. And she is everything we’ve wanted and more. I fear I have not been kind to her, but we are rebuilding our relationship.” Steve nods, his hand held tightly in both of James’.

“The King will require much rest before he sees anyone. I know it is hard, but he has undergone a lot. I will have food brought to him, but right now all he needs is rest.” The two Kings nod, content to spend time with each other and forget about the world, if only for one night.

Any semblance of peace is shattered, however, by Natalia throwing the door open.

“Doctor Banner, it’s the Queen. Sh-she’s taken a fall.” The doctor is on his feet quickly.

“Send for the midwife immediately,” he says, gathering his things and running out of the room.

“Wait, midwife?” James asks, rising to his feet. Steve follows suit and soon enough they're all sprinting through the palace towards your chambers.

Before the Kings can enter, Nat is pulling the door closed. Right as she does, a scream comes from behind the wood.

“What the Hell are you doing?” James demands.

“I do not believe this is how she would want to meet her husband for the first time. Allow her space.” The King shakes his head.

“My wife is in there, and she is carrying my child. I have every right to be in there with her, especially if she is in danger. I have only just got my wife back and I will not lose her.” Nat sighs but steps aside, allowing the two men into your Chambers.

You’re on the bed, one hand clutching your stomach while the other grips the bedsheets tightly.

“What's happening, Doctor?” Steve demands, moving to your side quickly. He gently takes your hand in his and you squeeze it instantly.

“It does not look good, Your Majesties. I cannot tell whether it was the fall or the stress on her body, but I can no longer hear the heartbeat.”

A sob bubbles out of you at his words and the Kings are moving quickly.

Steve climbs onto the bed behind you, propping you up on his chest and smoothing your hair gently away from your face.

The way he’s instantly able to care for you in a way that James still has trouble with causes the brunet pain, but he pushes that aside and kneels beside your bed, taking Steve’s place in holding your hand.

A heartbreaking cry of agony leaves your lips, the back of your head digging into the blond King’s chest as the Doctor urges you to push.

“Is there anything that can be done for the pain?” Steve asks softly. The doctor shakes his head solemnly. “We can only give it time and hope that she is able to push swiftly.”

Tears rain down your cheeks and James is reminded of the events that occurred to cause your pregnancy.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

~*~

Hours after your pain started does it finally end, with you bloody and sweaty and childless on your bed, your husbands both sitting by your side.

Steve presses gentle kisses to your clammy forehead while one of his arms wraps around your upper torso. You grab at his forearm with your free hand, bottom lip wobbling as the reality hits you.

You look to King James, fear evident in your teary eyes.

“W-will you have me beheaded for losing your heir?”

The first words you’ve spoken in weeks and he’s nearly crippled with guilt by them.

“Beheaded? Of course not. No one could have anticipated this. You need only rest and recover.” That’s the voice of King Steven, and for a moment you find yourself feeling embarrassed at the fact that this is how he’s meeting you for the first time.

“I will never be able to apologize enough for the pain I have caused you,” James whispers, raising his hand to wipe a tear off of your cheek. You subconsciously flinch away and Steve stares at you in shock before turning his gaze to his husband.

The look on his face is enough for the blond to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I know you do not know me, but I promise you that all I want is for you to be happy and healthy. Heir be damned.” You sniffle and nod, pulling your hand out of James’ grip and holding onto Steve tighter, anchoring yourself to him.

You cry yourself to sleep, body and mind exhausted after the trauma of the day.

The two Kings, however, do not sleep.

“What have you done to her?” Steve asks bluntly. The brunet closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head.

“You need to understand that I... I wasn’t myself. You were gone and she was meant to be for both of us.”

“Answer the question.”

“I... forced her. And I struck her. And by the Gods the words that came from my mouth... I will spend eternity in hell for all that I have done to her... all the pain I have caused.”

If you were not asleep against his chest, Steve would be on his feet beating his husband to a pulp.

Instead, he takes deep breaths to reign in his anger, determined to keep his cool with you so near.

He wraps both arms protectively around your figure, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head then closing his eyes tightly.

“I cannot excuse my actions, but if you will listen, I will attempt to explain them. Although there is nothing I can say that will ever make what I did right. And I regret every moment of what I did.” The blond slowly opens his eyes, giving his husband a glare.

“We will have words. Until then, she is my priority. I cannot bear to look at you knowing what you’ve done. Leave us.”

The brunet doesn’t argue, knowing that he’s getting far better treatment than he deserves considering all that he’s done to you and the pain he’s caused. He rises and leaves silently, avoiding the knowing eyes of Natalia as he heads towards his chambers, spending yet another night alone.

Steve presses kiss after kiss to the top of your head, his heart heavy with what little he knows of what you endured.

How the man he thought he knew could treat you so poorly is beyond him, but he’s determined to make up for it, even if James cannot.

#king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #dark!royal au #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader royal au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve/Reader #steve rogers/reader #bucky barnes/reader #James/Reader #bucky/you #bucky/reader #stucky/reader #stucky x reader #stucky x reader au #stucky x reader royal au

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semischarmed · 3 years

Text

Clarity

My hot roommate Zach is the perfect man. I think I won the cosmic lottery when we got paired freshman year. “Roommates for life!” he shouted, as he wrapped a tone arm around me in a side-hug. I chuckled, of course. Who knew the cutest guy in our dorm was such a dork. I remember that moment vividly, committed every last detail to memory. In what he likely only barely remembers, I recall to the last detail. I play it back often -even moreso, nowadays: The crisp autumn breeze. The filtered sunlight through amber trees, bathing us both in golden afternoon. The warmth of his touch, and the unintended taunt from his arm pulling me towards him and his jacket ever so slightly wrapping over my back. The slight, dense smell of coffee wafting from him and his minty breath cutting through. Thats how I remember him. Warm. Sincere. Safe. Zach would probably say that was the moment we became best friends. I, on the other-hand, would say that was the exact moment when I fell for him.

We did everything together from then on: Ate together, joined the same clubs, signed up to the same classes- that first year we were inseparable. Best friends to a tee. I’m not even sure what he saw in me- the guy was a hell of a lot more sociable than I was. He could literally find anyone else on campus, yet I had the privilege of being his roommate and friend. I commit that wonderful first year to my life. It is my happiest year to date. I commit that version of Zach to myself as well.

Trouble started early in our second year. He spent all summer back home, hanging out with his high school friends and his brothers. When we finally met back in our new room, he seemed distant. Still, I made the effort, getting closer and closer to him every day. He’d been sending signals too, I think. A stray touch, just a half second too long. A lingering stare in my direction. A gentle smile when I ask him a bout his day. I had to know for myself with certainty.

So, one terrifying October night, I asked him straight up.The fucker laughed. Cruel, hideous, insensitive laughter. I’d never felt more alone in my life than when he laughed at my confession. That broke something in me. I quickly ran to my bed, crying myself to sleep. Without skipping a beat, Zach left the room to grab a bite to eat, seemingly unchanged by my outright confession. I had never been so humiliated in my life, yet only he would ever know. Still I felt him hold that over me in the weeks to follow like a dark cloud. Of course he’d still offer hangouts. He’d ask for help with some dumb assignment or try to get me to open up by faking some issues about himself. He was mocking me. I felt his sneer, ever-present from behind. Thats when I began researching alternative methods to exact what I needed from him.

Why a private university had a book like this is beyond me. It was a spellbook. A dangerous one, at that. All manner of incantation and processes regarding the human soul. I poured myself the next few weeks on its pages religiously. Translation is a massive pain in the ass but it gets done.

“Love cannot be created by spell,” it stated. Leave it to a fucking book to let me down too. I wiped away stray tears until I caught sight of the last batch of spells. I sighed at its contents. Fine. I couldn’t make him love me through magic, but I could have him the next best way. His body. The final section of this book of spells is, of course, the curses and enchantments required to possess another being.

———

The preparations have been made. It’s another late, awkward night in our room, where he just passes by, gives me a nod and a grimace and then heads to bed. This night would be different. I chant the words. The price is steep. Half of my body’s lifespan for the ability to take someone over in their sleep. That’s the one I settled on. Of course, there were more permanent spells outlined, but this seemed to be a happy medium.

The magic is dark in nature, and I feel the cloud over me deepen. I feel myself detach. It’s weightless, but grounded. Makes sense, given the purpose of this spell. I watch my target and lick my astral lips. There he was, happily dreaming without a care in the world. I study every curve, like sculpture. He is muscled, but tone. Zach likes to sleep with his shirt off, so I get to see what powerful chest up close. I watch as powerful lungs, drawn in air before gently dispersing it. Perfection. I watch that beautiful face lie still in a satisfied smile. Angelic. This body is power, incarnate. My power, soon.

I follow closes until I am but inches from his face. I stir around him, slightly. I want him to know it’s me. Bleary eyes open and he gives a weak smile when he sees me. “Dude-” the smile quickly fades to shock. “Wait what the fuck...” in sinful glee I push into my man. He involuntarily absorbs my particles, my spirit. He tries to push me away, to get me off him. Hands are useless to stop me. I phase through them with no resistance. His breath quickens as he begins to panic. This only further brings me into him, as he is forced to breath in the only air around him-me.

Then, he starts choking, trying to force the parts of me in him out. I am unfazed. Instead, in I keep filling into him until all of me is inside. This is the way we were meant to be. He pulses and convulses and chokes while I align myself into him. I revel in Zach. In being Zach. Despite all the shit he pulled this year, he still is perfection. My perfection, now.

I command his lips mine. “Invoke me. Become me. Manipulate this body. Explore us. Stay, in me. I want you here, forever.” They’re not words he usually uses. I rile in a frenzy when these phrases leave his lips at my behest. When his voice becomes my own and I make us moan. When his body complies with my every whim. When Zach’s flesh is mine. It is euphoric. Orgasmic even. I intend to follow through, to reward it. To pleasure it. God it feels good being in him. Being him. He may not love me, but love me he will, even if indirectly. Every waking moment I spend inside this man will be a moment of him loving himself, loving me. Now, And then I feel it. I clutch my head in pain. Zach.

Veins strain in his forehead as he puts every last effort to exorcise me out. Resistance almighty in this body. In tears I feel myself stripped from momentary heaven. He chokes as a dense fog that is me escapes his mouth. He is successful.

When I am kicked out of his body abruptly, I flare in anger. How could he do this? How could he? I look back at my slumbering form. No matter. My resolve is steel. Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I knew somewhere it had to come to this. I chant the final curse mentioned in the spellbook. The price is the steepest of them all.

I watch as my physical form dissipates. I writhe as I am renewed with newfound energy. Potency. Virility. I’ve put in everything. Everything I ever was into becoming him. Zach would be mine, no matter what.

Before he can readjust, before he can even think about what had just occurred, I flood back inside my man. Inside my body. My one true body, now, given what I had to sacrifice. I make him smile while he takes me in. Smile in preparation of a new, permanent driver. I thrust my astral form inside its new home. It’s warm. Roomy. muscular. We make this body grin, shout, cry, writhing all the way in its sheets in our battle for control. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing when he fights me- but he always was a natural in everything he picked up. I feel our shared muscle contract and relax as it is forced to accept its two masters- soon to be one. Soon to be me. Zach’s soul was strong but no one was a match for the full force of an entire human body-turned-spirit. I feel his soul start to lose footing. Jackpot. Immediately fill take its place. My place.

I was far deeper in Zach now than I was before. His essence struggles, trying to escape me but I keep us steady, hold us tight. Our minds begin to connect this time around and we sync. The book said this was a necessary step. I blink away our tears into a satisfied smile. Our face is flush from the fight, flush from my greatest victory. “You’re mine forever,” I think to myself, My words. The verbalization of my invasive thoughts in his head- they’re spoken in his tongue. In his jock-like inflection. I even now think in his voice. Of course, it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is undeniable proof. The finality of it all. Proof that my body no longer existed in this world. Proof that for me, forever, Zach would be my default. Just one last step to it all. One last push- I’ve already given this much, there was no going back. I would displace Zach as the true owner of this body. It’s as the final line in the book states: “Encapsulate their soul, devour it, digest it, make it yours. Then, true control at long last.”

Tears stream down our shared cheeks as we both realize the true gravity, the true consequences of my actions. We are synced now, but I haven’t yet completed the process. So, our emotions are a mix. So, it’s bittersweet. He’s mine. We’re one. I’m finally with Zach in a way most intimate. Despite it all, he isn’t fighting back. Why?

I rage inside him, wanting him to be mad, wanting him to hate me, to give me justification my ultimate transgression. He offers none. Instead, I am hit with borrowed clarity. More of his memory floods into me and I begin to cry.

I watch my every worst moment through his lens, relive the demons of my past and yet, from his perspective they never looked quite as dark or traumatic as I had made them out to be. Even my confession itself, my initial catalyst, had merely been a blip in Zach’s mind. If anything, he had been more concerned that his own nervous laughing was the cause of my spiraling. I quickly realize how much wasted time I spent, building up Zach into this god in my head. My god. In the end, he was human after all.

I feel Zach pull instances of himself from my memories in turn. It turns out he had many, many insecurities as well. Many moments where he needed validation or support. Many moments, even in recent memory, where I had never picked up on on his fear and self doubt. An offhand comment here. Some self-deprecation there. Of course, stupid me always there to respond by telling him to quit joking around. I felt the months of torment he felt in my coldness after my confession. He wasn’t making fun of me or being an ass, he wasn’t even patronizing (well, he wasn‘t trying to at least)- he thought he was losing a friend. The guy was just a bit oblivious. God I was so dumb. Of course, he blames himself for my eventual actions. Poor guy. Zach didn’t deserve any of this- he never did. “Thank you” he cries in new clarity.

In mental tears I begin to undo my connection to him. It’s not something he had the capacity to do himself- I made that a reality when I used my physical form as tribute. I know the price which must be paid, for my greatest sin, born from misunderstanding. There wouldn’t be much left for me- the price for the spell was my physical body after all. It didn’t matter. I made that choice for myself when I recited the spell. But Zach... he had no choice at all. He still had a chance at a life. A life well-lived with knowledge and confidence gained from my memory. It was the least I could give him.

I begin to drift away as I balance the cosmic scales. I detach the last of myself from Zach, ready to give him back his body, ready to return him to his life. It’s merely a reverse of the process from before, yet it all feels lighter somehow. I take it as a sign of karmic justice. Of course, I am scared. Who knows what awaits me? Maybe I can find another body to inhabit. Maybe one in a coma. Maybe i’ll be reincarnated. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll just vanish on the spot...

Zach doesn’t give me the chance to find out. I feel his astral hand holding on to mine. His face is sympathetic. Kind. Warm. Like it used to be. Like it always was. His body leans up to pull me into a warm embrace. I start crying in spirit. “You, you don’t have to do this-”

“I know” he says. He pulls me tighter. ��Roommates for life, remember?” Now he’s crying. “There’s no way to go back- we both know that, but you still got a life to live-we both do.” He smiles as he guides me to himself. I reattach to him. We weave our souls as one. “C’mon man, I told you I grew up sharing a room.” I am a complete mess of emotions at this point. Unworthiness, Love, Relief. I feel his mess too. Neither of us knew where to go from here, but we both knew we’d face it together.

The experience was sobering, to say the least. We cried together that night. We cried at newfound realization. We cried at irreversibility of what I had done. Hell, we even cried at the extra rent that had to now be paid. I had no way of undoing what I did, and Zach wouldn’t let me go. In the end, we decide to just give it a go, a resolve to live as one person. “Zach 2.0,” as he jokingly put it. Dork.

———

“A happy accident,” is what Zach called the events of that night. He always was the optimist. Although, these days, I’m a bit of an optimist now too. I am Zach now too, after all. All things considered, we’ve done quite well together. Zach 2.0 was everything. We were smart, intuitive, confident, compassionate. We’ve made this body the healthiest it’s ever been. Hell, together we even graduated with honors, something neither of us could ever hope to do alone. Both our parents were real proud of that one- he told mine at my funeral that we had been together and we’ve been in close contact ever since. By no means were we the perfect man though. There was no perfect man. We’ve had our share of fights, struggles, times where one of us would take full control of this body we share, shut the other out.

Once in a blue moon, we both dream of what our lives could have ended up as, had I not done what I did or had he let me disappear that night. In retrospect, I really do think my life had a lot of things going for it. Hindsight is always 20/20, as he likes to say. I saw many an opening, so many areas for improvement that my younger self was blinded by in lust and perceived betrayal. There was so much life I could have lived, had I just not opened that stupid book. I don’t dwell on it too much though. We’re both quite happy sharing this body. I’m living in one body with my crush, whats not to like?

The first few months were quite jarring. Our friends and family would see us happy and outgoing at one moment and then flip to quiet and reserved on a flip of the switch. Gratefully, they been patient with us, assuming it was the byproduct of a grieving boyfriend. The more years I grow with him, the more alike we have become. Sharing one body and living one life tends to do that. I’ve probably rubbed off on him a little too. He’s just a bit more analytical now, a bit more perceptive, and I’ve learned to let loose every once in a while. Altogether, we make a great team. We’ve even managed a slew of relationships along the way. Hell, he’s even gone out with some guys-no doubt a byproduct of my soul being a part of him. Of course, in the ultimate cruel twist of fate, they never last- he tells me “none ever match me”. Well of course they can’t. I’ve lived every moment with him, felt his every thought, lifted him when he was up, consoled him when he was down. Ironically, in a roundabout way, the spell did end up causing love, causing for him to fall for me- at the cost of us never being able to be a couple in the physical sense. Guess you really can’t have it all.

In the few years we spent together my love for him has only deepened. I know he feels the same way. We are one person, after all. All things considered, it’s not a bad setup. If love on the physical plane happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t- then we still always have each other. Regardless, I’m sure we’ll find someone out there for the both of us, someday-there’s that optimism again. Of course, we don’t pine for it. Our main focus has always been each other. Growing together. We’ve got a whole life yet to live. And he’ll have me with him every step of the way. And we can’t wait to face it all, together.

-End-

Eh, it’s a bit underdeveloped but I’m not a novelist and I didn’t want to spread this out over parts. Going for something a little different with number 14- hope y’all like it!

#male possession

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Dinner & A Show

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

2.5k, NSFW: Strip tease, naked woman/clothed man, lap dance, thigh riding, grinding, coming untouched, groping, marking/biting, jerking off, comeshot, come as lube

A/N: This oneshot was inspired by this anonymous prompt: The prompt “I want to watch you take your clothes off” would be really fun for a strip tease with Flip! Whether you’re giving him one or he’s giving you one! I’m excited for all your writing this weekend Mrs Z!

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

He’s taken two steps into the house, after a day so long that he could barely see straight driving home, and he’s just tired enough to drop his filter, to ask for the thing he’s been thinking about all day. All damn day, your body has been on his mind, and now that he’s finally home, he’s afraid that if he doesn’t get his fix of you, something inside him is going to resolve.

“What was that?” You ask, wanting to make sure that you heard him correctly, wanting to make sure you’re not hearing things, not imagining it.

Flip closes the door behind him, locks it. He licks his lips, and his eyes glitter with a dark lust that has your breath hitching in your throat. Bending down, Flip scrapes his teeth lightly over the skin of your exposed shoulder where your halter dress doesn’t cover.

“I want to watch you…” He repeats slowly, licking up your throat to kiss at your pulse, dangerously and slow, “…Take your clothes off.”

You grin, because that’s what you had hoped that he said, and you can feel his sharp teeth digging into your flesh with a grin of his own, because he can feel your pulse quicken, and you have to resist the urge to let him fuck you hard up against the wall right there in the foyer.

“Oh you do, do you?” Your hand twines into his hair and you fist the silky brown locks with a tight grip, prying his head away carefully so he can look at you, eyes nearly drunk with lust, glassy and hazy in the best way. Holding him just out of reach, you rub your nose against his, lips ghosting over his, “Had a long day and now you want your dinner and a show, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Flip’s hand starts to roam your body, starts to grope and squeeze at your breasts, your ass, just wanting a handful of you wherever he can get it. He groans deep in his throat as his thumbs rub over your nipples – you’re not wearing a bra underneath that halter. He swallows and bites at your shoulder again, asking, “Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you think I deserve it?”

“Of course you do honey, why don’t you go sit in your chair?” You whisper, body moving and grooving out of his hold, twisting yourself out of his arms as you flatten yourself against the wall with a sultry, “I’ll be in in just a minute.”

Flip lets out a heavy sigh and wills his cock not to get too hard too fast. The last thing he needs is to come in his jeans, not when he wants to fuck you so hard that it’s making his palms sweaty. You give him a gentle nudge, and he goes into the living room, sits in his recliner that’s all his. The fireplace is already gently crackling, and Flip wonders half-heartedly if he should go get the camera.

You come into view a few moments later, lingering by the mantle, admiring the way the flames flicker and flare. Turning on a slow record and fucking with the playback speed so it’s slower and more distorted in a real sultry sexy fucking way, you keep your back to him as you untie the halter of your top.

He can already feel his own pulse spiking, especially as all he can see is your back, body lit from behind, a golden edge around your silhouette from the fireplace. Reaching behind yourself, you tug the zipper of your dress down down down real slow, hips swaying left right left as the dress slides down your body, pools around your ankles.

“I love when you wear that dress, you know.” Flip groans out, watching as your bare back moves along to the music, your hip bopping to the beat of it.

“I know. I wear it because you like to see me in it.” You look over your shoulder at him, your arms crossed over your chest. “I like when you look at me.”

Turning around finally, Flip’s gaze rakes over your gorgeous form. You’re hiding your perfect tits from him, but he can see the way you’re even wearing the lingerie he likes too – silk panties with matching garter belt, the straps clipped to stockings that stalk towards him as you step closer closer closer.

“I can’t keep my fuckin’ eyes off of you, baby.” Flip has to clench his hands into fists as he licks his lips. He loves you, fuck he loves you, he’s so fucking hot for you, hot in his jeans.

You gracefully drop to your knees, and releasing your tits finally, you crawl across the soft shag carpet to close the distance between your bodies, back arching and shoulders moving fluidly, making Flip’s eyes practically roll back into his head as he tries not to jerk off to the sight of you.

He’s got to touch something though, and when you finally settle yourself between his legs, when you rub your face into the crotch of his jeans, Flip pinches and gropes at you.

“Looks like you can’t keep those hands to yourself either.” You shake your head, “No touchin’.”

“Aw but – ”

“Not yet.” You amend, and that quiets Flip at least, because he knows that he can try and be patient if there’s permission coming, he can be good, he’s going to fuck you so hard.

You’re still wearing the panties and garter belt and stockings, and you climb up up up into his lap, straddling his big thick thigh, muscular and firm underneath you. Flip can feel the heat of your pussy and he wants nothing more than to shove his fingers under the waistband of that underwear and finger you until you’re sobbing out his name – but you said no touching.

Instead, he sits there and sweats as you very slowly, one by one, begin to unclip each of the garter straps. There’s eight on each leg, and Flip feels like it’s going to take an age and a half to get it all undone, especially when you’re making such heated eye contact with him the entire time. Eventually, they’re free, and you raise yourself up on your knees on his recliner and reach behind yourself, pulling the stockings off your legs one at a time.

“Jesus you’re smokin’ hot,” Flip groans, when you wrap one of the stockings loosely around his shoulders. “My sexy kitten, my ketsl.”

Unclipping the garter belt, that too falls away, until you’re just in your panties. But you’re not so sure you want those to come off just yet, you’re not so sure you’re going to give him the satisfaction of that. You can see how wound up he is, how jumpy his muscles are, so you finally give in and press your body flush to his.

“You like my tits?” You lick up a thick hot stripe against his jaw, nibbling at his ear ever so carefully.

“You bet.” Flip’s voice is deep, so much deeper than normal as lust fills his lungs, his eyes nearly black with it. He’s consumed with want, and you’re not in the mood to make him hold back any longer.

Guiding his hands to your chest, immediately they latch onto your tits, grope and knead the flesh there as his lips meet yours. Flip’s embraces are always jostling, he’s enthusiastic even when he goes slow, he’s a large presence all around. Flip groans and pants into your mouth as you give him the permission to touch you, he’s nearly whimpering in the back of his throat for it, for how desperate he is.

“Why don’t you give them a kiss?” You whisper in his ear, and goosebumps erupt over his arms as he yanks you closer, pulls you up onto your knees again so his face is level with your cleavage.

At once he begins to bite and suck, licking the bruises that he knows are going to form, a possessive claiming action that he’ll press his thumbs into for days to come. He’s obsessed with you, with the way your body looks in every single way – clothed, naked, on top of him, under him, he doesn’t give a shit. He loves you just as you are, no matter what that looks like, as long as it’s you, as long as you’re his.

He could die there, he’s certain. Face buried between your tits as his hands squeeze at your ass, wishing he could tear those panties right off. You’d be pissed if he did, this was an expensive pair and it matched the garters, he couldn’t go breaking them. But fuck he wants to, especially as he suffocates himself in your cleavage, rubbing his face there.

“Fuck, god I’m so fuckin’ hard.” He groans, and you smile, you’re so fucking pleased with yourself for how you’ve wound him up like this.

The record spins and spins, songs long and drawn out from the speed change, and Flip loses himself in the feeling of you, in the sounds that your bodies make as you sigh and moan together, smacking kisses filling your head and making you both dizzy.

“Touch me, see how wet I am for you,” You push one of Flip’s hands down to your pussy, let him tug aside the panties that are soaked through, “Just for you.”

He groans, surges forward to really shove his tongue into your mouth, making out with you messily, sloppily, hungry. He’s so hungry, Flip could eat you out all night – and right then and there he decides he’s fucking going to.

But first, he wants you to come, he always loves drinking you down after you’ve come, he loves the way you’re even more sensitive, wants to eat you out while you’re already chasing the high of the first orgasm of the night.

So, he pulls his hand away instead of plunging his fingers up into your cunt the way he knows you want him to, and he snaps the elastic waistband of your panties against your stomach, making you scowl.

“Ow!” You bite his cheek, whining with your pouty frown, “You’re so mean.”

“Yeah, tell me all about it, ketsl.” He wraps a hand around your hair and tugs it harshly, your head tipping back, throat elongating for him as he tests his luck with a deep order to, “Grind yourself against my thigh, come for me.”

You could say no, you could beg for him to fuck you without hesitation, and he would. But there’s something delicious about the way he wants you to put on a show for him, and you find that you really do want to. So, letting your eyes close, letting your head tip back even further, you begin to move your hips back and forth, your back undulating, grinding and grooving against his thigh just the way he likes.

“That’s my good girl,” Flip pants, holding you and squeezing you, “Go faster.”

The friction is so good straight away, but you’re searching for that angle where you can get it perfectly right on your clit. Sweating from the effort and the fire gently spitting behind you, your body slips and slides on Flip’s thigh, and he has to hold you tight so you don’t go toppling off the recliner.

“Flip, fuck – I – touch me?” You beg, “Please touch me honey, I want to feel your hands on me, please?”

Your tits are still in Flip’s face, and they sway and bounce as your body moves, he bites down onto them, bites and sucks deep dark hickies onto your throat, litters your shoulders with him as you grind yourself down onto his thigh with pants and moans, little groans and grunts in the back of your throat. Eyes closed, you bite at your lip as you speed yourself up, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure.

Flip is sure he’s going to come in his fucking jeans, the one thing he was trying to avoid, but he doesn’t care. He’s too far gone, too invested in watching you get yourself off on his thigh. If he comes in his jeans so be it, he has to wash them anyway.

“You’re so close I can feel it,” Flip eggs you on, “You can do it, come for me, come on my fucking thigh baby, soak my jeans.”

He doesn’t want to miss the moment that your mouth drops open, face pinching up as you come and come and come, so he keeps his eyes glued to you, until he sees you shaking, and your cunt is pulsing, and he knows you’ve gotten yourself off.

Grinning, Flip manages the strength to pick you up entirely as you pinch your eyes shut and ride out your orgasm, and he places you down onto the floor. Your arms and legs are jello as your shoulders make small convulsions as your knees turn in, and Flip groans from that, pulling his cock out.

It’s a flushed red and angry, angry from being so neglected. He reaches his hand into your panties and rubs his fingers through your folds, making you whine and squirm from the stimulation. Collecting your come and slick, he spreads it onto his cock, lubing himself up as he jerks off, grunts over your body.

“I’m gonna come on you, okay?” He asks, voice shaking from the effort, the speed that he strokes himself, wanting to bring himself right over the edge.

“Yes!” You gasp, your ribcage expanding from a deep deep deep breath that you shudder on the exhale out, “Come on me, come on my tits?”

Flip grunts and clenches his jaw, because the sight of his come on your tits does something to his brain that has his nerves snapping and firing off inside his body – and then he can’t help it, he’s coming in thick white ropes that splatter all over your stomach, onto your tits, even up onto your chin.

You always did tell him he had a big load, and he pumps it out all over you, watches as it lands and clings to your sweaty skin, groaning and moaning and practically shouting out your name.

When he’s finally spent, he collapses down onto the shag carpet next to you. His chest heaves, and he gulps down lungfuls of air. The room feels hazy, sticky almost, humid from the amount of heat your bodies dispelled, and he knows that he’ll probably have to crack a window overnight so that the room doesn’t reek of sex…especially because he’s not done.

Turning to look at you, Flip finds that you’re already meeting his gaze, your eyes that same glassy hazy lustful that his was when he first came home to you. You get a case of the post-orgasm giggles, an endearing sight that always makes Flip glad he married you, and he can’t help but join in when his stomach growls.

“How’s dinner sounding?” You ask teasingly, your voice raw and used like you’ve been sucking his cock, and Flip thinks that might be something to add to the roster for the evening.

But as far as eating goes, he’s still determined to get you to come on his tongue, so he wraps an arm around your thigh and drags you close, making you laugh even more out of eager anticipation when he growls,

“I’ve got it right next to me.”

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

Taggin' some Flip lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @cowgirl1234 @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x reader #adam driver fanfic #adcu #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman fanfic #blackkklansman #my writing

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mefiman · 3 years

Text

Hamato Family’s First Visit to the Hidden City

Story request by @rottmntrulesall. Hope you enjoy the story, bud! ^^

"C'mon, everyone! Hurry up!" Michelangelo's impatience was obvious in his excitement. He and his siblings were finally going to show their dad's relatives for the first time to the Hidden City for two reasons; one: to view the many wonders of the other world and two: to have a formal, proper meeting with Draxum's parents. The latter part had instilled some unease into the Hamato siblings, especially Saki who was wary about stepping foot into a mysterious world and was about to see for himself the father and mother of the "monster" who altered his younger brother many years ago.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Hamato Kenji asked. Raphael glanced at his uncle, understanding his uncle's concerns. "We've been there a lot, Uncle Kenji! We did encounter a few dangers there before but other than that, the people there don't usually attack humans unless provoked." Raph assured his uncle.

"There are a lot of places to visit like the many resorts and spas if you want to have a massage and ooh, Señor Hueso's Run of the Mill Pizza where they make one of the best pizzas! I know the manager of that place, we're amigos~" Leonardo took the chance to quip in.

"I can't wait to see Grandpa Mons again! Wait till you guys meet him yourselves, he's the nicest, sweetest grandpa you'll ever meet! He's still as strong as he's gentle!" Mikey said happily.

"I wonder if Grandma Chemia has some wicked new inventions to show me!" Donatello exclaimed.

"This would be my first time seeing my grandparents, Arachne..." Ariadne whispered to her best friend, Arachne.

"You've never seen them before?" Her friend asked.

"Once when I was a baby... I haven't seen them for years." The yokai femme told Arachne.

"Alright, kids, you've shown us all that you're excited to bring us to visit the Hidden City, Mikey, can you open the portal now?" Splinter asked.

"Sure, Dad!" Mikey got to work quickly.

Draxum felt a tinge of anxiety inside himself. He could not recall the last time he visited his creators ever since he moved out of home to pursue his alchemy researching, away from his parents' constant arguments, half of which is about their preferred methods of raising him. It was a surprise how those two still manage to live under the same roof despite their obvious clashing personalities. He guessed that they tolerated each other just for his sake. His parents had never produced any more offspring after him and one of Arachne’s parents...

"Hey, are you okay, Dad?" A female voice asked him. Draxum jolted from his pondering to find that his daughter, Poison Ivy asking him out of concern. He just gave a small smile as he ran his clawed hands over her helmet. "Am fine, just thinking about your grandparents." He assured her. He marveled how Ivy much had grown from the last time he scientifically created her with his and Lou Jitsu's DNAs; she being so tiny as a developed newborn infant growing in a liquid chamber to a young lady around the boys' ages. From what he knew later on, Splinter raised her along with the Turtles. Ivy had lived her life at first as a normal human teenager until her yokai genes started appearing. The initial discovery of her origins did shake her world but over time, she had learnt to accept and use them to assist her brothers in their adventures. She was intelligent like Draxum and his mother with his father's gentle, mature nature as well as Splinter/Lou's sassiness. She loved to study on botany and coincidently, her powers involved using vines and summoning plant like monsters at will. She recently revealed her sexuality preference as a lesbian and had a girlfriend who is a fellow classmate and witch trainee/apprentice in disguise. Both her creators and siblings were happy for her. As of now, she was cradling her younger sister, Venus de Milo was giggling and squealing as April, Ariadne and Arachne cooed and tickled her belly.

The group watched Mikey draw a symbol on the wall at an alley. Once the symbol was drawn, an open portal revealed. The Hamato siblings' mouths went ajar, not believing what they just saw. "if you think that's mind blowing, you haven't seen nothing yet!" Mikey grinned. His three other brothers and the three girls each took hold of one of their Hamato uncles and aunts's hands. The moment they all jumped into that portal, they found themselves staring at a massive part of a what seemed to be a huge city. The sky above was unlike Earth's skies; instead it was orange with some brown. The architecture of the buildings there were monster shaped with some tall, castle like structures far away from the city. There were a lot of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and appearances walking, running, passing by each other, buying their needs or doing their usual business trades. The Turtle family allowed their Hamato relatives to take in their first view around them. Saki's eyes were bulging out of his sockets, he could not believe for his life what he was seeing. Anthropomorphic, mostly consisting of animal, everyday objects, monstrous and supernatural like individuals roamed every part of the streets around him, he felt as if he was having a strange dream that defied logic! Nori on the other hand, looked right and left, taking in interesting sights that captured her attention. Underneath a calm façade, Kenji was freaking out internally at the new, foreign view. Hiroki was squealing in delight similar to a child had just discovered a world made of toys and sweets. Her twin, Hikari was a bit calmer than his sister, feeling a thrill of danger running through his veins. Last but not least, the youngest Hamato sibling, Mei's stance looked poker face yet she looked around to see if there were any Gothic like people that she can interact with. The Turtles and the girls grinned, seeing the reactions of the others.

"What do you think? Surreal, huh?" They ask.

"Amazing.."

"Fascinating..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing..."

"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming..." Saki mumbled, still not believing.

"No, you're not," Draxum replied, going straight to the point with an indifferent expression. "May we please hurry to my parents' house, I bet they're waiting for our arrival..."

"Oh yeah!" Mikey clapped both his hands once. "Lead the way, Draxy!"

Draxum sighed as he took the lead of the group. Along the way, there were a few whispers around and behind Draxum coming from the city people but Splinter and Ivy took hold of both his hands and gave a comforting, assuring squeeze, making him feel better. Ariadne gave her uncle a comforting hand on to his shoulder. They were soon out of the main city square to a further distance into the woods. They had to climb up a hill for a while until they reached a big mansion residing there.

"We are here at last. My childhood home..." Draxum said, looking at the grassy, serene valley below, reminiscing the times where he as a little one ran galloping around the field, cartwheeling with glee among the flowers and his sire teaching him the basics on how to defend himself the predator way. Both father and son spend their days in the early years, sparring with each other...

"Draxum, my son!" The former alchemist warrior villain snapped out of his memories to find himself being engulfed into the arms of none other than his dear, loving old father, Monsrage who brought his only son into a crushing bear hug which knocked the wind out of his lungs. "How have you been, my little baby boy? It's rare that you visit us but it's so wonderful to see you bring your family along! How delightful!" the older yokai gushed, his bushy tail wagging with unlimited enthusiasm like an excited puppy. Monsrage was rather huge and muscular with perked up, pointy ears, silky straight black hair unchanged through time and a fairly long beard to match. Like Draxum before, he wore a battle mask. He had a significant dark upperlip. His body had different shades of blue just like his son, Draxum when he was armored. Monsrage's eyes were the same like Draxum's. His feet in particular, was a noticeable difference. Unlike his wife and son, his feet were shaped like a lion's paws, fitting for him coming from a predator species.

"Father, it's great to see you... but can you please let go now? I can't breathe..." Draxum choked out, being smothered by his sire's busty chest. Monsrage immediately loosened his grip, apologizing profusely while checking to see if he had accidently broken any of his son's bones. Draxum shook his head, smiling a little. His sire had never changed all these years, still a concerned worrywart. And he bet his mother had not either...

Chemia on the other hand, was greeting the rest of the visitors with feverish energy. She was a redhead with shades of pink for her skin colour and her ears, long and drooped. Her eyes had a little twinkle in them, a part of her eccentric personality and plump, red lips. Like her husband, she wore a mask. Donnie, April, Arachne and Ivy were given a whirlwind hug the moment they came in front of her. Monsrage went back to the mansion with his son to give the new visitors, the Hamatos, April, and Arachne a warm greeting as well as welcome his beloved grandchildren with his signature bear hug and proceed to pepper their faces with smooches which they were delighted to have especially Mikey, Ariadne, Ivy and Venus. Monsrage and Chemia ushered them all into their humble abode. The Hamatos were initially skeptical about meeting Draxum's family but they were soon warmed up to them. Later on, the mansion was filled with guffaws of laughter as Monsrage showed them all baby pictures of his son which embarrased the poor warrior scientist. Donnie, April and Ivy were treated to Grandma Chemia's latest creations. Monsrage himself had a blast, playing with Venus and sparring with the Turtles and the girls. Arachne was delighted to meet her grandparents as a young adolescent, telling them about her achievements, adventures and that her own parents are doing well. The Hamatos became comfortable talking with Draxum's parents over some snack delicacies. Overall, everyone had a wonderful time at the Hidden City.

I had fun writing this! Was tiring but oh so worth it.

The Hamato siblings (minus Lou/Splinter) and Venus de Milo belong to @rottmntrulesall while Ariadne and Arachne are the OCs of @mikeykawaii/@mikey-ho. Monsrage, Chemia and Poison Ivy along with the mention of the witch girlfriend belong to me, @mefiman. I hope you don’t mind me incorporating your girls into this story, @mikeykawaii but I’ve been dying to add them in, especially Ari meeting her grandparents! ^^

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #my art #ocs #baronjitsu #a teeny bit mentioned

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pleasantanathema · 4 years

Text

Pray to Me

Pairing: Shinsou x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Gods!AU, Rough Sex, Too Many Norse Mythology References

Word Count: 8.5k

�� The frigid waters were laden with blood and ice, the salty waves licking the bows of long boats as they accosted the shores. The dark waters of the bay looked black against the fresh snow, churning oars sending sprays onto the docks as warriors returned home.

You stood among the crowds, whips of snow billowing past your reddened cheeks, your arms crossed in protection across your chest. Despite losing the men within your family to raids and battles long ago, you always came to welcome back those who were fortunate enough to receive homecoming. Upon the sails of the ships was the symbol of your earl, dancing proudly against the winds of winter as the men and women beneath them hailed their successes from summer and autumn.

High upon the prow of the leading ship was a carved figurehead, meticulously crafted in the image of Skoll, the wolf who hunts the moon. The wolf’s jaws were wide and within his wooden tongue was an etching of a crescent moon; the wolf with his prey in his maw was a symbol of Ragnarok, a symbol of the return of chaos. And upon the prow was a man you had never seen before.

The man was all shades of violet and violence. His hair was the color of crushed mulberries, the long strands pushed back and wet from the sea, so deeply purple that it looked as if you were to touch him, your palms would stain with color. Blood, russet and old, crimson and fresh, was splattered across his cheeks. A warrior’s tattoos stained the expanse of his chest and arms; the thick, blue lines were heavy and sprawling from the wood ash buried within in pale skin. And his eyes, they were purple and bright, painted with black kohl. The dark smears ran down his impressive cheek bones and curled up from his eyes, appearing catlike. The curious orbs resembled the farthest stars that lined night sky.

You expected murmurs from around the docks, but it was as if the man belonged there, towering over all the rest, hands pulling at the mouth of the wolf within the wood. He was silent power within the snow, lean and muscular, body on display as if the storm did not touch him. You felt drawn to him, like he was looking for you high upon the prow. Your feet moved before you could think. You wanted to be closer, to have those violaceous eyes upon you.

You moved in front of the crowd, standing by the edge of the water, sand and ice crunching underfoot, but when your eyes darted to find him, he was gone. There was no trace of slick purple hair within the throngs of people. Disappointment settled into your spirit and wearily you traveled home to rest.

For weeks you dreamt of him, saw shadows of him within the corners of your vision; illusions of a dark cat in your windows, a tawny owl upon barren branches.

Some nights you dreamed you were sinking into a vast violet sea, trying to swim upwards to break against the surface, to breathe air into your lungs and call to Odin to rescue you. But you were stuck, some unknown force pulling at your ankles and keeping you in a watery, nebulous purgatory just below the surface. You would always give up, allow yourself to float within the celestial unknown of the eerie, mauve waters, allow yourself to feel weightless and accept that you were no longer in control. The undercurrents would push you, bring you into strong, waiting arms, and you would awaken, breathing in and feeling like for a brief moment you were whole.

No one you asked had seen the purple haired man, save those who returned from raiding in the East. One warrior told you that the man you saw upon the prow of the ship was a land spirit, brought with them from the Balkans after blessing them with the gift of fire and aiding their struggles to survive as the weather turned bleak. Another relayed that the man was a spirit of the Wild Hunt, a straggler from the ghostly procession that attached himself to the fleet and brought the callousness of winter with him. No matter what they believed him to be, they had all seen him, the man with violet hair and violent eyes.

You knew that the sisters were calling to you from The Well of Fate, whispering the future that they had laid before you. Something about the purple haired man, whether he be man, vestige, or spirit, made you believe that you were fated to meet him again.

Nearly a full moon cycle passed before your curiosity could take no more. In the dead of night, you wrapped yourself in your cloak, ignoring the shadows and wisps of eyes in the dark as you made your way through the sleeping village.

You found yourself before the Seer, ancient and decrypt, asking for him to translate the gods’ wishes and intentions for your life.

“What questions do you have of me?” His voice was as rickety as the bones that adorned his hut, rattling from stray winds. He had lived hundreds of years and now dwelled between life and death, an interpreter between gods and man.

“Wise one, I desire to know the gods’ plans for me. I have dreams.”

“What dreams have come to you?”

“I dream I am drowning within the bay, and that a man saves me, but only after I stop fighting the currents.”

There was a pregnant pause between you. The Seer considered your words. Your thumbs fiddled within your lap, and you felt heavy, like you were under the gaze of more than just the ancient one.

“A precarious quest awaits you, one that will take you between worlds, to the land of the gods.”

“But I do not understand. I do not adventure, nor travel. I am only a simple healer. What kind of quest could await me?”

Below hooded eyes you watched a black tongue escape his mouth, worrying across dry lips as he pondered your words. Only a few times in your life had you visited him, well aware that fate was already the master of all, even the gods, as even they were subject to fate just like any and all other beings.

“You shall go past where the fence separates us from the place of self-willed beasts, finding refuge in that which is chaotic, anarchic, and wild.”

“But, Seer, I do not—.”

“Yes, child, I know you do not understand. But such is the way of prophecy, only to be understood when it has happened, and it is too late to change it.”

You stood to leave, seeds of fear sprouting within your spirit.

“But do not forget there is order within the chaos.” His voice crackled like fire, calling out to you as you left his home, forging a path through the snow to your own.

The foresights of the Seer lingered within your disposition, the cryptic words reverberating through your mind and taking hold in your daily life. You started to fight the currents in your dreams, only to wake gasping for breath after monstrous beings pulled you into the abyss. The warm arms of your illusory savior felt farther away than ever before. The murky glooms in the crevices felt stronger, grimmer, the oppressive eyes of darkness following you from every corner, every winter shade.

Your hands began to slip as you tended to the wounded, your thoughts becoming absent as you crafted medicine or supper, often burning yourself over fires or forgetting ingredients. You felt lost, abandoned by the gods, but still yet you prayed.

Winter continued to rage on, with the moon living within the sky at all times of day and bathing the world in a constant dusk during the desolate midwinter. Every night before you made for bed, you trekked behind the village to the isolated temple to the gods. No one was ever there. The summer raids were over, the men safely returned with riches aplenty, which, along with the great harvest, had left many believing that the gods were in good spirits and were bestowing ample blessings upon their dedicated supplicants.

But you, you felt no love from Asgard, felt no promise of Valhalla waiting for you.

The temple was hardly a sanctuary at all, just a hut overrun by dormant vines and overgrown with dying grass, with an altar for blood sacrifices tucked away against the back wall. Despite being a devoted village, most saved their prayers for their pilgrimage to the great temple in Uppsala, but you had become desperate. You needed to feel closer to the gods, to find the place beyond the fence that was foretold to you.

You knelt upon a broken stone, obedient hands upon your knees as you began to pray.

“Odin, all-father and far-wanderer, may you grant me wisdom, and courage,

Thor, grant me your strength, wield your hammer to break the barriers that hold my mind,

Baldr, the beautiful, beloved by all, please bestow upon me joy and light,

And Freya, mother of beauty, the völva, help me to discern my fate—.”

Your prayer faltered as you heard steps crunch upon the grass. But the sound wasn’t of footsteps coming towards you, more like someone shuffling, shifting their weight within the temple.

You were not alone.

All your instincts began to fight one another. Your mind wanted to flee, to spring your legs and send you running to safety, but your heart felt like you needed to stay, to speak into the twilight for answers. The conflict led to you staying still and being silent. Your hands fisted upon your thighs, your eyes closing tightly. Whatever was there would go away, whoever was there would leave. Maybe there was nothing there at all, only the spirits playing tricks on you again.

“And why haven’t you called out for me, little one?”

The voice sounded like vibrations from within the deepest ocean; deep, unfathomable, and a little wicked.

He was there, before you, arms across his tattooed chest that was on display under emerald linen and violet head cocked to the side. He was grinning, like a cat would upon discovering new prey. His purple hair was arched into wild plumes, his skin rubbed clean but the kohl still upon his cheeks and around his eyes. He was handsome in the firelight, fiendishly so.

“Who are you?” Your voice was a whisper, so light and airy it floated away into the darkness.

“Who am I?” He laughed, leaning against the sacrificial altar, a blatant disrespect for the gods.

“Who am I…” he repeated it, drawing circles in the dirt with his toe. He shifted his weight back and forth for a moment, eyes closing as he picked up an imaginary rhythm.

“A creaking bow, a burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake…”

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers twitching in your lap. You recognized the pattern and knew what words came next. It was an old saying your mother used to whisper under her breath, a chant for the old women and those who held superstitions. It was a warning, a rhythmic song to help children remember to stay safe, to avoid perils.

Your mouth opened before you could stop it, finishing the proverb for him.

“The sons of a king, an ailing calf, a witch’s flattery. No man should be such a fool as to trust these things. For they are the trickster in disguise.”

“Aha, so you do know me, girl. Yet after all this time, I’ve never heard you pray to me. Why is that?”

He crouched down to your level, his startling, devilish eyes gleaming like amethyst. He was too close and you felt yourself leaning away, back arching and neck aching as you tried to pull yourself from his gaze.

“No one prays to you, trickster god.”

He merely shrugged, a strong hand reaching for you. Rough fingers found your chin, pulling you closer as his eyes danced across the planes of your face. You began to shake, overwhelmed by being in the presence of perhaps the most dangerous god.

“And how do you know I am he?” he laughed, thumb running over your lips, “I could be Heimdall, sent by Odin to watch over such a devout and…fascinating little creature.”

“Because you’re so…” you paused as you looked for the words. You felt like you were drowning within his gaze, falling to the ground even though you hadn’t moved since he appeared.

He stood quickly, turning on his heel and smirking.

“Because I’m so what? Handsome? Charming? Surprisingly muscular for a god who uses wits and magic to seduce his subjects?”

He pouted at your silence, wanting more of a reaction.

“What if I told you I could be beautiful instead? Would that hex you?”

This time he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond. Within a haze of smoke, he transformed.

A languid, sensuous body appeared between the mists. Voluptuous breasts met your eyes, smooth thighs peeking from beneath an exquisite olive dress. Long, violet tresses fell down the woman’s back, curling so perfectly she looked to be unreal. But his eyes stared at you from the feminine face, dark lavender and sinister upon high cheekbones.

“Hmm,” she sighed, holding her hand out for you to take.

You took the soft hand outstretched to you, surprised at the strength behind the grip as she pulled you to your feet. The goddess was tall and slender, and she gazed at you while she pondered whatever was on her mind.

“Still not as beautiful as you…” her voice was melodic as she looked over her own body, swaying within the graceful skin for a moment before catching your gaze and stopping. You stood still, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed at the hermaphrodite before you. Her lashes fluttered as a familiar smirk spread across her features.

It was as if she was floating when she neared you again, purple hair uncontrollable and suspended within the air. Her tender hands came to your cheeks, pursing your mouth with her thumbs.

“No…nothing is as beautiful as you, little servant.” Her supple lips overwhelmed your own. You gasped, hands flying to her chest to stop her, only to have your fingers sink into the luscious valley of her breasts. A chuckle fans across your face, more masculine than feminine, and the mixture of the voice had shivers of excitement and pleasure racing down to your toes. You were too shocked, too scared to kiss back, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips moved against yours gently, pleadingly, only becoming more active when the delicate hands upon your cheeks converted to thick fingers and rough calluses.

Before your eyes the god shifted again, returning to the fetching masculine figure that he was before. You could smell him now, taste him, like smoke from smoldering coals and the residue of rain from within a summer’s forest. Your hands were still upon his chest, your fingers brushing against the skin that was on display between the open buttons of his tunic. His kiss was intoxicating, a hum of magic upon his lips as he drank you in.

“You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, licking your lips wantonly before pulling away.

“Why have you been haunting me?” You demanded between heavy breaths, emboldened by his kiss.

“Haunting you? No, no. I’ve been watching you. Observing you. You looked so…sinless among the throngs when I sailed in all those weeks ago. I must say I am very pleased by the things I have seen.”

“And what have you seen?” Your voice snapped; tongue sharp.

His hands caressed your upper arms, eyes glancing across your body as if he was admiring a pattern within runes that he had seen a thousand times before.

“You serve…everyone. The gods, the people in this village, you tend to the weak spirited and the broken bodied, you serve everyone but yourself.”

The god grew quiet, leaning forward to inhale the sweet scent of your hair. His lips pressed to your temple, thumbs stroking your arms through the thin fabric of your clothing. His breath fanned into your hair and you suddenly felt your heart begin to beat more slowly. It was as if his presence alone, his touch, could calm the raging turmoil within your mind.

“Now, I want you to serve me.”

“Yes,” you said too quickly, a knee buckling as you prepared to kneel, “of course, anything for a go—.”

“Shinsou.” His hands held you in place, kept you from bowing to him. He watched as your head tilted and your brow furrowed, obviously wanting to please him. “Shinsou is the name my friends call me, and as shall you.”

“Shinsou.” You tentatively said the name back to him. Your people knew him as Loki, but to know a more intimate name made tingles of warmth spread across your chest, like he was entrusting knowledge unknown by mortals into you.

He became violet and beautiful as you said his name, a warm smile decorating his striking face. The safe feeling of your dreams washed over you. These arms, his arms, his hands and his body, were the safety you had been dreaming of that saved you from the tumultuous seas. You stared at him for a moment, hands feeling a heartbeat within his chest. He looked so human, felt so real, yet still an otherworldly air swirled so poignantly around him. Everything inside of you wanted to fall into him, to feel enveloped by his spirit.

“I’m going to take you away,” he whispered it, hand trailing from your arm to your face, tucking hair behind your ear in a most affectionate way, “you’ll never have to come back here, unless you want to.”

“Take me away? To Asgard?” Your breath hitched as you said the name of the haven of the gods.

He laughed, the sound like honey dripping across your soul.

“No, little one. I am of the giants; don’t you remember the ancient stories? To Jotunheim we will go.”

Your brow lightened, remembering the words of the Seer. Jotunheim, your brain wracked over the word, letting it roll within your thoughts until it revealed what you were looking for. Útgarðr, you realized, the name of that same place given by your ancestors. It meant the world outside your own, the world of chaotic wilds that surrounded Midgard. The place beyond the fence.

This Loki—this Shinsou—was indeed fated to you after all. You felt the connection from the moment you saw him sailing in the winter winds, felt it even more profoundly as he held you before him in the temple. For some reason, the trickster god had chosen you, or perhaps he was merely following fate, testing you for all this time to see if you were truly the human girl destined for him. He was a sign of change, his hands wrapped around the prow of the ship that was carved into a symbol of Ragnarok, the end of the cycle of this world. He was proving to be a carrier of the end times, at least the ending of your own mundane life. And just like Ragnarok, you had a feeling that with this end would come a new beginning, that Shinsou was taking you away but leading you to a new life, a new destiny, far beyond what you could ever imagine.

“Take my hand,” it was a polite command, his words weighty but light enough to promise that you could decline.

You felt something between his fingers, a quietness, a wickedness you could not quite name. It was like a dull thrum of lightening humming between your skin and his. Billows of smoke weaved between your bodies. Just as quickly as he transformed into a woman, Shinsou had you whisked away, transported so rapidly you felt dizzy. You clung to him, your godly refuge, light flashing as your feet found new purchase upon what felt like a floor.

For a moment, you thought the room was a mirage. It was unlike anything had ever seen before, so lavishly decorated with lush furs, viridian curtains, polished stone and warm fires. Books lined every wall and the air smelled of perfumes and incense, even a fountain sprung from stones in the far corner. It was truly unearthly, but his arms around you felt like home.

His head rested upon your shoulder from behind, his palms flattening on your chest to feel your heartbeat as you took in the sights around you.

“This is…this is your home?” One of your hands gripped a muscular forearm.

“Mhm, more like a home away from home, a safe haven.”

He uncurled himself from you, a stout hand pushing at your lower back to urge you to explore. You padded around the room, fingers caressing the spines of books along the walls, finding many in languages unknown to you. Between many of the tomes were vases and trinkets, some glowing with mystic hues, humming with magic well beyond your comprehension.

“What will you have me do here?” Your breath caught as you turned to find him. He seemed so large and ominous within the space, like was the commander of the room and the only ornament to be admired within the vast collection around you.

“You haven’t figured it out? My, and I thought you were keener than most mortals.”

He rolled his shoulders, sighing with content as he removed his tunic, tossing it into the air to only have it dissipate before your eyes in a bright flash of magic. His tattoos seemed darker in the dim light, like the blackest earth pressed into his skin. A serpent trailed down one of his impressive biceps, his other arm decorated in a swirl of runes and etchings of a wolf and a horse, his chest covered with a dark, ethereal depiction of Yggdrasil, the world tree, it’s branches spreading across strong pectorals and its roots weaving between the hard muscles of his stomach.

“Come,” he motioned to you with his fingers, “come back and touch me.”

You had no hesitation, coming to his call like a pet would their master. It felt safe to be back in his arms again, to have your fingers running over the indigo lines of art upon his handsome skin. He proudly showed you his arms, eyeing you with great interest as you admired him.

“Your children,” you mused softly, tracing the pictures so marvelously stretched upon his musculature.

“Yes,” he laughed softly, “my children. Call me sentimental, if you must.” The enormous snake was no doubt Jormungand, the serpentine dragon that encircled all the oceans, all of Midgard. Then there was Fenrir, the ferocious wolf that was chained away somewhere from all humanity and gods alike, in wait to break his binds and eat the world as the end began again. And then there was Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse that bore the weight of Odin in all of his battles. They were all wild creatures, the offspring of the unfathomably powerful god before you. They were all beasts of anarchy, yet they looked so beautiful upon his skin, so harmless within the ink.

“Order within the chaos…” you whispered, echoing the words of the Seer.

“I want you.”

His powerful voice rumbled from within his chest. It startled you, caused your wandering hands to cease upon his arms and become still before him.

“Why?” Breathless. You felt breathless.

“I have traveled every inch of the nine worlds, regarded every corner for fascinations and enthrallments, yet it was in the homeland where I found what I wanted. You are the most beautiful, pliant little create I have ever beheld, and I want you within my bed.”

“No, you can’t! I’m nothing, no one of importance, you…you can’t.”

He left you then, smirk adorning his features as he sauntered to his bed, waiting for you to follow. And you did, an unspeakable urge to touch him, to follow him, to feel him, to be overwhelmed by him, drawing you to him like a fox to its den, to its safety.

“Well, if you don’t want me, my brother Katsuki would give up his fates in order to have such an alluring woman within his sheets.”

“Katsuki?”

He paused, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, that playful grin still upon his lips.

“Thor, if you rather. We all have many names, but I only want mine to come from your tongue. So many nights I waited to hear you pray to me, call out to me within your dreams, but I tired of lingering. So now I will have you say it, scream it, for me, little servant.”

He pulled you into his lap, hands greedy upon your flesh, pulling at your thighs and sinking between your ribs. He looked untamed upon the bed, hair almost purposely unruly and muscles rolling and ready to hunt what he wanted to take.

“Do you think you can do that for me? Pray to me? Call out for me like you need me?”

Thick fingers gripped at your cheeks; violet eyes hazy like storm clouds above the ocean. You were reminded that he was a devious deity, a shapeshifter, a trickster, the one thing that your elders warned you about as a child. A burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake, he was all those deceitful things and more. He was the epitome of chaos, yet he had chosen you, desired you, and you knew that deep within your spirit you wanted him as well. He was handsome beyond compare, but his physical splendor was not all that had you holding onto him. Behind those eyes was a promise of release from every woe, a chance to experience pleasure like you had never known before.

“Yes, Shinsou, whatever you desire.”

“So devoted to the gods,” he whispered, bringing you flush against his body, “now I’ll make you feel like one.”

Slowly, he ran his hand downward, finding the intimate, remarkably soaked place between your legs. He could feel your wetness from beneath your wool coverings and a satisfied groan builds within his throat as his lips curl even more sharply, devilishly.

“So wet for me already,” he chuckles, wrist flicking and sending your clothing away.

You gasped, feeling the threads peel away from your body by what felt like imaginary hands. Just like his tunic before, your shirt and trousers were gone, whisked away to perhaps another dimension never to be seen again.

“Look at you,” he boasts, keeping one hand tucked between your slick thighs as the other rakes across your curves, pinching, pulling, teasing at your flushed skin, “not even the goddesses compare to you. Mhm, thank the All Father for breathing life into you, I must thank him for creating such beauty.”

Your mouth could barely stammer a thanks. You were beguiled, stunned within his lap, your legs stretched over gloriously muscled thighs. You almost felt shameful to be on such display for him, but the hunger in his eyes and the hardening cock underneath told you just how pleased he was to have you.

A deft finger began to circle your most sensitive spot, making you bite your lip as a groan burned within your throat. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, gaze catching every breath you made, every shift and roll of your body. You felt hot, unbearably so, as his finger toyed with you so languidly.

His other hand found your breast, cupping it and testing its weight within his giant palm. His thumb grazed your nipple, circling it at the same pace and movement as your clit. He grinned as he watched you slowly come undone, felt your walls and insecurities crumbling away at his touch.

Shinsou then took your sensitive clit between two fingers, rolling it so perfectly that it sent sparks of pleasure racing across your nerves, surging from your thighs to your toes and back again. He kept going, stroking sensually, purposely, with such expert skill that you felt you could cum just from his slightest touches. Is this what being with a god felt like? Like you were constantly on the edge of euphoria, every touch and stroke like the gift of life within your body?

Your head tipped back as you moan, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. He watched with glee as the column of your throat was on display for him. He took a moment to press his hot mouth against your flesh, sucking roughly against the side of your neck like he was taking your pleasure for himself. You could only moan again, the sensations already drowning you in such bliss you were surprised your inner coil of pleasure hadn’t broken for him already. He was an expert in giving pleasure just like he was the art of manipulation and sorcery.

All too easily he moved you below him on the bed, his impressive body now hovering over your own, mouth still biting at your neck, fingers still circling your nipple and caressing your pussy.

“Tell me what you want,” it was a soft command against the slick skin of your neck.

“You,” you breathed in deep, breasts pressing against his tattooed chest with your inhale, “please, more.”

“More of what? Of this?” he pinched at your nipple, tugging it and twisting it so wantonly that you couldn’t help but to shriek in pleasure for him, “or this?” his two fingers danced along the lips of your pussy, sliding between the wet folds before returning to your aching clit, swirling against it so proficiently that you felt your inner muscles clenching and begging for release.

“All of it, I want everything.”

“My, my, you are a greedy little thing.”

All at once, he ceased his motions, easing the pressure upon your body and leaving you wanting, burning, begging for more. But he is not gone from you. His fingers, coated in your slick, tauntingly trace over your clit once more, so light it’s like the kiss of life just barely brushing over your delicate flesh. You began to writhe in response, needing more friction, needing more of his touch, but he moved his weight upon your body to suppress you. He was teasing, purposely neglecting to give you the stimulation you so desired.

“Any time you want more, you say my name, little one. Say my name and I can give you everything you desire.”

“Shinsou, please.”

He groaned, he himself coming undone at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t even begin to explain how gratifying it was to hear his name come from your lips. He was no fool of a god, he knew no one prayed to him, but he wanted you to pray to him more than anything he had ever desired before. Your songs of praise would fill him in ways a mere mortal could never fathom; your prayers, his name from your mouth, was more intoxicating than any substance Odin had ever created. To have you, a devoted child of the gods, calling his name while he stole your faith away from every other god and claimed it all for himself, fulfilled him beyond measure.

His touch trailed lowered, finding your puckered pussy pulsing and waiting, ready for him. He entered a single finger, a heavy moan of approval ghosting against your neck as your inner walls contracted around him, pulling him deeper into you.

“So fucking tight,” he lifted his head, finding your eyes closed and pretty mouth agape, “I can’t wait to have my cock in you.”

Waves of pleasure rocked over your body as he moved his finger within you, curling it to massage the fleshy walls, quickly finding a sensitive spot to stroke against. His palm pressed against your clit as he buried another finger into you, the two digits working in tandem to spread you, spear you onto his thick fingers, pushing them far into your depths. Every plunge had you gasping, bursts of bliss spreading across your skin like flames.

His mouth returned to yours as he fingered you, hot and heavy, but his kiss felt controlled, like he was holding back. You reacted quickly, pushing up into him with all your strength, arms circling his neck and pressing him for more. You wanted what he can give, all of it, and you showed him with your actions. Your hands fisted into those vivid purple plumes of hair, tugging as your hips began to match the speed of the hand working within you. You moaned, loud, desperately, your tongue prodding his lips. He graciously accepted your tongue, opening his mouth and wrestling against you. His tongue licked your own, slow and wet, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness.

“Shinsou,” it was a murmur against his mouth, but he heard it, soaked it up and began to thrust and curl his fingers faster than before. You cried out at the pleasure, mouth falling from his.

“You like it a little rough, hm? You’re so easy to read, my dear. I am going to make you cum so hard you’ll be begging for all that I have planned for you.”

His words had your cheeks and ears burning with a blush. He only grinned, choosing to prop himself onto one arm so he could watch you. With every flick of his wrist, every move of his fingers inside of you, he watched your face. He watched how your lips curled, how your jaw clenched. He felt your hands twist in his hair; felt how you would pull on the violet strands in desperation when he touched the perfect spots. His eyes scanned your body as well, watching what made your breasts bounce, your stomach clench, your walls tighten around his fingers. It didn’t take the god long to discover exactly what made you tick.

He rapidly increased his pace, using his newfound knowledge to make your body feel like it could explode at any moment. He touched you just right, plunged his fingers so perfectly as to keep you on the edge of your euphoria for as long as he could. Truthfully, he could’ve kept you in suspense forever, but Shinsou was not a god known for his patience. He wanted to watch you cum, wanted to see your face when you came around the fingers of perhaps the most reviled deity. One even you wouldn’t dare pray to.

“You ready?” He called your name, making your eyes flutter open to see him. He saw the lust within your brilliant irises, your dilated pupils, and that sight alone had his cock harder than it ever had been before. He was no longer sure he could keep his composure as he watched you come undone.

He leaned down closer, close enough to catch your breath within his mouth. He would’ve expected you to kiss him had you not been so far gone, so close to otherworldly release that your lips could no longer form words.

“Cum for me,” that wicked tone of voice was back, his fingers now slamming into your body, “cum for a god, little mortal.”

His thumb returned to your clit, showing it no mercy as he rubbed tight, fast circles against it. His words, his fingers, his body, his breath, it was all too much.

“Sh-Shinsou!”

You reached a high you had never felt before as you came for him. Your head felt dizzy, like you were back to drowning within your dreams, waves and waves of euphoria crashing over you so roughly you felt like you were sputtering for air amidst the onslaught of pleasure. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his unceasing fingers, your chest tightening, your core exploding, heat blooming from every patch of skin he had dared to touch. You screamed. Over and over, the bliss felt never ending, and he baited you for even more.

“That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that, just how I want you.”

It felt like he was drawing your orgasm from your body, pulling everything he could from you. His thumb still stroked your clit, fingers still buried deep within your body as you quivered around him. Your thighs clamped around his thick forearm as you finally began to descend from your high, body loosening and sinking into his bed.

He finally stilled his movements. He merely smirked as he watched your chest heave with breaths as you basked in the afterglow of your pleasure.

“Good girl,” he cooed. In the haze you realized how much you wanted to hear those words again, recognized how much you wanted to please him. You wanted more of those encouraging words, more of his admiration, wanted to know how much of a good girl you really were. Your spirit suddenly craved even more, despite the world-shattering orgasm still lingering within your muscles, your blood, your soul.

You felt empty when his fingers left you, but watched in shocked delight as he brought the digits to his awaiting mouth. He sat up before you, sucking at his skin and cleaning your slick from his fingers with a very greedy tongue. He looked wild, uncaged, like the wolf Skoll had finally eaten the moon and brought the world to end.

“Fuck,” you whispered in awe, scrambling for purchase against his sheets as you propped on your elbows to watch him.

He quirked a brow as he slid his tongue between his fingers, relishing your slick as if it was the sweetest honey.

“I’m sorry, did I make the pious girl curse?”

“I’m not pious!” You countered, feeling flustered, shaking your head and pouting as he only laughed.

He smirked as he finished cleaning his fingers, crawling up the bed and pulling you into his lap.

“I dare not argue, not after those delicious sounds you just made for me.”

Shinsou quelled any words that were forming in your mind with a kiss, his lips tasting of you. You moaned against him, feeling his arms snake around your back and hold you to him. His cock was hard and heavy, now prodding against your still pulsating pussy.

“Mhm, how will I take you?”

It was a pondering to himself, but the words still made you tremble. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your nipples hardening as they brushed against the downy hairs of his chest. His strong hands found the flesh of your ass, lifting you to hover over his large, throbbing erection. You held in a breath, waiting, expecting him to take you hard and fast and now, but he merely teased your entrance.

“This way?”

The head of his cock began to spread your lips apart, warm and silken and making you drip even more than before. He sat there for a moment, using the strength of his arms to lift and drop you just ever so slightly onto his cock, each little movement making you gasp.

But then the anchors of his arms were gone, sliding down your thighs as he laid you back on the bed. So easily he moved on top of you again, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slithering up your body to wrap around your tender, kiss bruised throat.

“Or perhaps like this?”

He held you against the bed, cock still hard and waiting between your spread thighs, sliding ever so gently against your pussy. His fingers flexed against your throat and he watched how your eyes flashed with want, with need.

“I could always take you as a woman. You fell so easily into my kiss when I transformed earlier, hm? Would you like that?”

He could feel your gulp underneath his palm, shaky and deep.

“No,” he was smirking, plotting. His deft fingers took your hip into his hand and flipped you over, both hands skimming down your body and pulling you up onto your knees. With a stern hand he kept your breasts pressed into the mattress by applying pressure to your shoulder blades, positioning you just how he wanted. You felt even more exposed than before, your pussy open and wanting and waiting, spread before his hungry eyes like a meal ready to be devoured.

The head of his cock was back at your opening, prodding your lips apart and slowly sinking into you with agonizing slowness. You held your breath, hands fisting into the sheets. He continued to open you more and more, his cock thick and hot. His hand on your hip constrained you securely, keeping you locked into place. The hand on your back did the same, his hold strengthening as he felt you writhe before him.

“Yes,” he purred, cock easing into you, “this is how I want my little servant.”

But the rocking of his hips stopped, the head of his cock now barely pressing inside of you. You breathed heavily against the sheets, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in anticipation. Without being able to see him, face him, you could only feel him. You felt his fingertips press deeper into the curve of your ass, as if readying himself, or perhaps attempting to use restraint. The hand on your back was steady, keeping smooth pressure on your skin. His thighs were solid and strong against your own, his breaths even, his cock so fucking hard.

You cried out in anguish, your aching pussy clenching around the head of his cock.

“Please, Shinsou!”

“Pray to me.”

His tone was nefarious, teasing, almost inhuman in how deeply it reverberated from within that broad chest. You closed your eyes and imagined how the sound must have climbed the dark branches of the world tree upon his skin.

“Pray to me like you did to the other gods in the temple. I want to hear that pretty voice beg for me to fuck you.”

That breathless feeling returned. Your heart began to race, mind rolling around too many thoughts at once that couldn’t be comprehended within your lusty haze. You hastily mulled over words within your head.

“Shinsou…” you began, feeling his fingers begin to mark crescent moons into your flesh, feeling the tip of his cock throb within your core, “wielder of cunning, god of mischief, I beg of you, please bestow upon me great joy and pleasure, take my body as this offering to you, so that I may serve you and grant you the indulges of the flesh—!”

With your final praises tumbling from your lips, he slammed his cock deep inside of you, stretching and spreading you and making you feel like he had set your body alight with magic. Your body lurched forward, nearly toppling over from the power of his thrust, but his strong hands kept you in place, allowing him to begin a brutal speed. Your ass bounced forcefully against his hips, breasts jostling with every thrust. One of his hands curled around your waist to your lower stomach, and he groaned when he realized he could feel his cock bulge from inside of you. He became heedless then, impaling you with reckless abandon, eager to feel your belly swell from the onslaught of his cock.

The forcefulness of his fucking left your muscles aching and your lungs breathless. You were now moaning with every plunge of his cock, as with each stroke he lit a fresh burst of pleasure that rippled across your entire body akin to the streams of enchantments you had seen him wield.

You felt like you were slipping away, having to fight to keep your thoughts alive as he brought you up the mountain of euphoria with just the heavy strokes of his cock.

“Don’t fight the currents. Let go for me.” He grunted the words between thrusts.

You allowed ecstasy to fully wash over your body, allowed his hands to guide you, hold you, take you to far beyond what you once thought the limits of pleasure entailed.

Shinsou moved the hand from your back to your shoulder, using the leverage to pound your body back against his. You could only moan at the feeling, of being so full of his cock, of hearing his groans join the chorus of your own. You clung to the bed with what strength you have left, allowing him to completely take the reins of control and have his way with you.

With each and every thrust, he pulled you back at different angles, trying you, testing you, watching you, seeing which way he fucks you makes you react the most. He listened for sharp cries and deep moans. He felt for your walls to flutter, your abdominal muscles to tighten, learned your body and fucked you with a chaotic yet controlled force.

He leaned over your back, hand moving to your neck, pulling your face up from the sheets. This position has him somehow deeper, head of his cock kissing where the curve of your cavern meets your cervix, farther than any had ever gone before. He filled you to the brim, stretched you so wide you felt you could burst, the intense pleasure of it all bringing tears to the corners of your lashes.

He brought your face closer to his, so that he can kiss your cheek as he fucks you, feel your hair against his chin, watch your breasts bounce so unabashedly from his force.

“You like this, hm? Serving me? Letting me fuck you like this?”

“Yes, yes!”

He squeezed the hand on your stomach, making you moan as you felt the massive cock from inside of you press against your belly.

“You like being so full of my cock? No mortal could ever fuck you like I do!”

“Yes—fuck—you feel so, so good, Shinsou!”

You could feel sweat on his skin, feel his heart beating like a caged raven within his chest. He felt so human, felt so real, but the euphoria he brought you was transcendental.

“You’re such a good girl, such a dirty girl, for me, only me.”

His powerful words were becoming whispers within your hair, vestiges upon your skin. You could only nod, the plowing of his cock into your core now leaving you more breathless than before. You could feel your release nearing, the flames being fanned by every stroke of the head of his cock against your walls, every push of his hand against your belly.

Your slick was dripping down your thighs, pussy so wet that every time his cock assailed your core your ears were met with the sinful sound of drenched bodies meeting one another in animalistic rut. You were climbing the orgasmic ladder again, aided by the sublime feel of his crushing hands upon your neck, your stomach, his vast chest against your back, rough lips pulling your face into him, and his thick, repetitive cock drumming into you.

Your mind was on sensory overload, your body uncontrollably bucking against him, begging for another otherworldly release. You could feel your walls clenching around his cock, your body pleading on its own. Pleasure was singing down your body, bringing pure delight and bliss with every pulse, every push of his cock. You were so close, so fucking close, all you needed was for him to allow you to go over the edge. You had submitted to his currents and knew only he could bring the ebb and flow of release.

You began to chant his name in prayer.

“Fuck yes, little one, just like that. Oh you’re so good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” you choked out, nearly sobbing for relief, “so, so good for you!”

“Then cum, cum for me!”

He roared the words against your cheek, his command overwhelming you and sending you spiraling as the waves of euphoria returned, crashing over your body like a tumultuous sea. Your body crumpled underneath his and he held you, the violent tightening of your body sending the god himself over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the magnificent feeling of being completely filled by him. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and making you feel suspended within his arms, gasping for breath and reveling in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

He held you for a long moment, hand against your belly, hand around your neck. It was his turn to bask in the afterglow of sex, to feel wholly spent and satisfied with the girl he had handpicked for himself. You were perfect in his arms, hands fisted into his sheets, lips swollen, his seed dripping from where he was still lodged within your depths. You’d let go, allowed him to have you, to take you, and there was no way in the nine fucking realms he was ever letting you go.

Shinsou kept you within his embrace as he collapsed to the bed, inked chest heaving and Jormungand curling around your back to hold you against him.

“Mhm, all the scheming I had to do to get you here, in my bed, filled with my cum.”

“Scheming?” You asked into his chest.

“What, you didn’t think all those dreams were coincidence, no?”

You sat up to look at him, all tussled violet hair, kohl on his cheeks smeared, grin upon his lips.

“And the cats? The owls? All those eyes on you in the dark? All that time spent waiting for you, little one. I even had to whisper my indecent plans to the Seer. Can you imagine that conversation? At least he put it into fun little riddles for you to decipher.”

“I—I can’t believe you would do all of that, for me. You could’ve just taken me.”

He snorted at your remark.

“I did. My hand was forced to interrupt your fucking daily prayer time and beguile you away.”

You nestled back to him, sinking into his skin, his touch.

“Well, I am gleefully bewitched.”

“And to think,” he chuckled, curling a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes to his, “all you had to do was pray to me.”

You were far too tired for rebuttal, choosing to instead settle with a kiss. He had chosen you. And for that you were filled with adoration, filled with a need to please far greater than you had ever desired to find the veneration of any other god. It was all for him, for a god who had no doubt tricked you into his bed.

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This was written for the Citrus Dome writing collab.

#bnha smut #my hero academia fanfic #bnhabookclub #hitoshi shinso x reader #smut with plot #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinso #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinsou smut #hitoshi x reader #bnha hitoshi #bnha fanfic #my hero academia x reader

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drspencerweed · 4 years

Text

Safer to Kiss

Summary: [Y/N] is new to the BAU, and Spencer’s avoidance of handshakes backfires a bit.

WC: 2073

Content: fluffiest fluff, mentions of kidnapping/violence (typical bau stuff)

A/N: I haven’t written fluff for Spencer yet, so I hope y’all like this!

Masterlist

read on ao3

I wasn’t nervous about my first day at the BAU. Sure, it would make sense if I was, but I had been working my entire career to get on this team. It was where I belonged, and I knew it. My interview process with Hotch had been a breeze, and I was ready to start the next step of the process: working my first case with the team. It was just preliminary, I was still in my probationary period, but I knew it was going to go well. I was over prepared for this job.

So I wasn’t nervous. I was ready. I met Hotch in his office that morning, ready to do paperwork until a case came in. But he greeted me with a nod and held up a case file.

“Round table, now.” He said, and I followed him out into the bullpen. The rest of the team was already in the room, waiting for us.

“Hello everyone. Meet a potential new member of our team, Agent [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. She’ll be joining us on this case in a probationary manner.” Hotch introduced, and I was greeted with six smiling faces. Immediately I was drawn to the most attractive man in the room. He was sitting down, but I could tell he was tall, lanky. His hair swept over his forehead perfectly. I didn’t let my attention linger there for long however, as I didn’t want to make my attraction obvious. Luckily, one of the other agents jumped in and turned me away.

“Derek Morgan.” The muscular man to my right said, holding out a hand. I shook it with a smile.

“David Rossi.” The next man said, again holding out a hand. Around the table they went, introducing themselves. Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ. Agent Emily Prentiss. Penelope Garcia. Then finally - the man who had so quickly caught my eye.

“Spencer Reid.” He said with a nod.

“Doctor Spencer Reid.” Morgan corrected with a nudge. Reid rolled his eyes, and a flush reached his cheeks. It was cute. And he was a doctor? I might have found my dream man.

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted, holding out a hand to shake. His flush grew deeper, and he cleared his throat.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He informed me, nodding and smiling. I retracted my hand with a smirk.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so.” It was out of my mouth before I could help it, the snarky retort something that I would say to any one of my friends. But I probably shouldn’t say it to someone who is technically a superior. I shut my mouth quickly and cleared my throat. Morgan let out a loud laugh, and Garcia chuckled. Reid looked shocked, his face turning a bright red and his eyes going wide. He started stuttering.

“I-I wasn’t, that’s not-”

“Pretty boy, stop while you’re ahead.” Morgan teased. Hotch looked at all of us disapprovingly, while Prentiss, Garcia, and JJ all smirked at Reid.

“Sorry,” Reid coughed into his hand, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said, looking me right in the eye. I smiled at him.

“You didn’t.” I sat down in the only seat available, between Reid and Morgan. “Pretty boy?” I asked Morgan. Reid tried to jump in to defend himself but Morgan held up a hand to stop him.

“I mean, am I wrong?” Morgan teased. I looked back at Reid and gave him a deliberate once-over while he blushed. It seemed he hadn’t stopped blushing since I walked in the door. Before I could answer, Hotch cleared his throat.

“Garcia, let’s get started.”

Reid avoided making eye contact with me throughout the whole briefing. The only time he so much as looked at me was when I brought up the fact that the unsub’s overkill could be related to abuse in his own past. He only looked at me to bring up a statistic about how most serial killers who use overkill actually know their victims. I realized I may have taken the joke too far.

I was determined to make him more comfortable around me, as I worried that my statement from earlier had intimidated him. Even if nothing happened between the two of us, I needed him to like me. I wanted the whole team to accept me.

~~~~

The case went swimmingly. We caught the bad guy and saved the man he had kidnapped just in the nick of time. For the entire week we had been working on the case, Reid and I had spent very little, if any, time alone. It was like he was actively avoiding me. Morgan called him ‘Pretty boy’ very often, and I learned it was just something they did. And I completely agreed with him, Reid was a very, very, pretty boy. I had to work hard to keep my eyes off of him when we were working in groups. He was just so attractive, and every rambling statistic spew made me more and more attracted to him.

I was developing a devastating crush, and fast.

We were boarding the plane to go home, and I purposefully sat across from Reid. Everyone else petered off to take naps, and quickly fell asleep, but not Reid. He took out a hefty novel and began reading at his exponential pace. I watched him for a few moments before taking out my laptop and browsing the internet. After I was sure everyone else on the flight was deep asleep, I shut my laptop and sighed.

Reid looked up at the sound, and met my eyes. He made a questioning face. “Is something wrong?” He asked, lowering his book.

“No, I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” He seemed shocked, and closed his book and put it to the side.

“For what I said at the round table. I know it made you uncomfortable, and you’ve been avoiding me this week because of it. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” I said. His eyebrows raised, and a flush started climbing up his throat. I quickly realized the implications of what I said, and began back-tracking. “Not that I was trying to come on to you, in any way, but uhm. I especially didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Reid nodded and took a moment to take in what I said. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” I could tell it was a true statement. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his hands twisted into each other on the table, and he seemed endlessly intrigued by their movement. But even with his body language betraying him I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“But you have been avoiding me?” I smirked slightly as I said it. I noticed his absence of a denial to that specific accusation. He bit down around a smile at my call out. He looked up to meet me in the eye for the first time since we met. The hazel was striking. I smirked at him.

“I guess you could say that.” He said, letting his lips turn up. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“For what reasons then?” I asked, intrigued. I couldn’t think of any other reason he would be avoiding me. His flush travelled up his neck to his cheeks. He coughed slightly and glanced up at me. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes, his eyes falling on my lips and then going back to his hands.

“You-” He started but cut himself off, bunching his lips together nervously. I chuckled a little and gave him an inquisitive glance.

“Go on, I’m curious.” I prompted. He smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly, but I caught it. He mumbled something under his breath, speaking so fast and so low that I couldn’t make it out. I quirked my head to the side, leaning forward in my seat. “What was that?”

“I said, uhm. You make me nervous.” He confessed, meeting my eyes quickly and then looking away again. I sat back in shock. Me? Make this man nervous? He was a literal genius, surely he knew how attractive he was. Not that I thought he was out of my league, by any means, but I expected him to be fairly confident in himself. For christ’s sake, his best friend called him ‘Pretty Boy’ more than he used his name. And yet, there was proof in front of me that the confidence I assumed he had was non existent.

“Am I that loud?” I asked with a laugh, trying to deflect what I thought he meant by ‘nervous’. He was attracted to me, wasn’t he? I hadn’t yet decided what I wanted to do with that information. It would make sense to ask him out, but I kind of liked the idea of teasing him without his knowledge. He seemed easy to fluster, and I loved flustering people.

He burst out laughing at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, no. It has nothing to do with loudness. You’re just, uhm. I’m not used to people like you.”

“People like me?”

He coughed into his hand and licked his lips. “Pretty. Confident. Forward.” He listed the adjectives quickly, counting them on his fingers. I smirked at his admission.

“So you think I’m pretty?” I smirked. He stuttered, trying to backtrack, but he knew he had been caught out.

“I-I just, yes, of course! But not like.... you’re objectively attractive! And subjectively, of course, but it’s not to say that I- that you-” He stammered out. I kept smirking at him as he dug himself a bigger hole. Finally I took mercy on him, reaching across the table and placing a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Reid. I think you’re objectively and subjectively attractive, too.” I said with a smile. His eyes shot up to meet mine, his hand flexing underneath my grip.

“Y-You do?” My heart melted for the sweet boy in front of me. How could he not know how attractive he was? He started on another rant. “I know that, scientifically, I have good bone structure, but I’m quite awkward which usually discredits whatever symmetry my face has.” I reached out and grabbed one of his hands in mine. It barely spooked him and he kept rambling. “More symmetrical faces are typically perceived as more attractive, but you probably already knew that.” He kept glancing between my eyes and our hands. Our fingers weren’t interlaced but our palms were pressed together.

“I did know that. I also know that you’re cute.” I squeezed his hand when he shook his head with a small smile. Suddenly I realized that our hands being together went against his no handshake rule. I went to pull away with a muttered, “Sorry-” But he just squeezed back and held me there.

“You really think I’m cute?” He asked skeptically.

I smiled widely. “Yes, I do.” His eyebrows raised and he shook his head in disbelief. I simply grinned at him as he tried to wrap his head around the idea that I could possibly be attracted to him. It was such a sweet sentiment it made me blush. I leaned forward in my seat a bit and reached out for his other hand. I was feeling bold. “So are you gonna ask me on a date or would you rather me do it?”

He smirked up at me shyly. “Would you like to get dinner with me when we get back?” He asked, interlacing our fingers.

“I’d love that.” I answered, squeezing his hand. The smile he gave me was so bright and brilliant it made my own face light up.

“Yes, Pretty Boy, get some!” Morgan said from next to us, apparently not as asleep as I had thought. I laughed out loud as Spencer flushed down to his neck. Morgan smirked and winked at the two of us.

Our fingers stayed interlaced throughout the rest of the flight as we talked in hushed tones and got to know each other. Every word out of his mouth made me fall a little deeper, a little faster. It was way too soon to call it love, but I knew it could get there. The little seed in my heart was growing exponentially, and the way his thumb danced over my skin didn’t help it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I always appreciate likes/reblogs/comments/etc! Also if you’d like to be added to my taglist just message me or comment on this! (If you’ve made it this far here’s a secret: there might be a sequel to this fic if enough people want it :))

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @rusticreid

#my fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fan fic #mine

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