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ceridescent · 1 year

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carribean summer heat — m., wanda

wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.

warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.

word count: 4, 300

author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o

18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.

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the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.

three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest.

not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind.

“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.

“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night.

you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes.

she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view.

wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day.

“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss.

wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more.

the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“

wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.

this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin.

you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see.

“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)

“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea.

you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”

she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it.

you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard.

wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves.

sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat.

wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions.

when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth.

more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island.

“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”

or maybe she does.

nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”

wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”

that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”

you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”

you do as told.

somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess.

hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger.

you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move.

you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit.

“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope.

“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage.

“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“

wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,

“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“

screaming and thrashing on top of her.

you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom

wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together.

“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.

she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”

“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”

“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone.

you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside.

a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here.

you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves.

wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.

kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!

“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”

you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”

“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”

this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock.

“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”

“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside.

she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth.

“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”

wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”

you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk.

“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”

a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit.

“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”

“please what, princess?”

“plea-pl-“

she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize.

you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”

wanda whimpers.

“that’s my good girl.”

she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”

your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust.

you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”

she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”

“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again.

“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“

“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”

wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool.

wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back.

her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe.

and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up.

“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”

a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock.

you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue.

“so hard, so ha-“

“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick.

“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh.

“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”

how you managed to let that out you don’t know.

wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”

you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more.

“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.

“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?”

repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—

a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors.

“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“

wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering.

wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds.

“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”

you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that.

“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?

“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you.

you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“i’m so full mommy!”

“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”

you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”

“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”

“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”

she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wlw smut

2K notes · View notes

honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 6 months

Note

Could I ask for some yandere alucard post season 3 with a s/o that isn't human or only part human? Like being half fae, nymph or siren. I just think the dynamics of that relationship would be quite different then say if the object of his obsession was human given his lack of faith in humanity in season 3s aftermath

A/N: I LOVE this question! It was so interesting to think about all the different ways the MC could be half-human and have that connection with Alucard. I did end up going with a mermaid/siren sort of creature as the original asker did send in an additional ask clarifying how they could picture this abused mermaid girl feeling kinship with Alucard because of his current distrust of humans, and I liked that element. I also chose a siren / mer create as they have abilities to manipulate/hypnotize their prey, an ability Alucard probably has as well with him being half-vampire. I ended up writing a very long outline in bullet points but felt that it didn't quite flow for HC, so I instead broke it up into smaller scenes below. I hope that’s ok. Sorry, it took so long. I was sick with some weird virus for weeks (lowkey feel like it’s mono or something), and could only handle work and family crap, like I barely had any motivation to live. And then when I started writing this, it sort of took on a life of its own lol. (What can I say? I love me some Alucard.)

Anon also suggested I check out this manga- it’s called Becoming the Villain's Family and it’s about a siren who goes back in time and makes a marriage pact with a devil to prevent their untimely fates. I’m not a huge manga reader, but my sister is, so I’m going to recommend it to her and maybe we can read it together.

Yandere! Alucard (Post-S3) w/ A Half-Siren S/O

The fair creature did not see quite how it happened, for it had all transpired too fast. A deep guttural growl echoed from past the tree line, well beyond the corners of her vision as the very ground beneath the wagon’s feet began to shake violently. As swiftly and silently as a flash of lightning, the wagon she resided in was sliced in half, the metal cage that kept her prisoner acting as her only guard against an elongated talon from some sort of monster. The cage was tossed sideways, skittering along the dirt ground as the poor mer creature inside flipped over violently, her dehydrated human form and lack of clothing sending her soft, nearly translucent skin into the square welds hard enough to form bruises.

“Retrieve the asset!”

“Don’t let her escape!”

“Are you crazy?! Fuck the asset!”

Around her, a flurry of mixed male voices shouted out contradictory directions. With only the setting sun for light, it was difficult to make out who had yelled what.

Then came more growls in addition to all the shouting. Then the shouting turned into screaming. And a handful of those screams turned into cut-off cries followed by loud squelching. A flurry of slices and swings from blades and swords interrupted what must have been the creature's onslaught, but it would certainly not last long. There would be more torn flesh, and more final yells- a final symphony of bloodshed to follow.

Kneeling into an upright position, the fair mer creature pushed and pulled frantically against the metal door of her cage. The hinges had warped in the fall, bending just so, that if enough force was applied…

With a metallic screech, the young water maiden could kick her cage door from its battered hinges. Fortunately enough for her, none of her captors seemed to notice her imminent freedom, the lot of them busy battling hideous creatures beyond any comprehensible amalgam or imagination.

Unfortunately for her, her sudden movement did not go unnoticed by one such creature.

A smaller, fiendish-looking thing, with the body of a lizard, but the head of a vulture, and the tail of a scorpion mawed loudly at her, its stinger striking warningly at the ground.

Not needing to be told twice, the young maiden leaped up and made a mad dash for the treeline on the other side of the clearing, opposite the line of creatures.

As she made it past the treeline she watched as one of her imprisoners struck successfully at the rear of the small fiendish creature with the sharp end of a spear. It cut roughly into the monster’s backside, turning the horrid thing’s attention away from her back onto her captors.

Pausing for a mere second, she took one last look at the few men still alive, fighting for their lives against the horrible creatures. Even if they were to win the fight, she swore it would be the last time she saw them. Beasts or no beasts, she was never losing her freedom again.

✧ ✧ ✧

The bottoms of her feet stung with every step, and her calves burned worse every time she jumped over branches, landing on uneven ground. Her thighs were practically numb from the midseason cold, and her time forced to rest on the cold metal bars of her prison certainly did not help. But she refused to stop running. Even if she was unfamiliar with the practice of traveling upright on two extremities, she perished the thought that her inexperience might slow her down. She could not fail. She could not yet rest. Whoever won the fight between her captors and the creatures was certain to follow after her once the battle was done. She could not waste precious time. So despite pain and exhaustion, she pushed onward.

After what felt like an eternity, although, if she were to judge by the moon, it must have only been a few hours, she found her legs could no longer support her weight, as her knees buckled beneath her, slipping on the soft embankment ground.

‘Embankment?’ The maiden, feeling a final surge of hope, strained her neck to get a better look. It did appear that she had made it to a river bank, although it was a rather small one at that. Still, the sight felt like a miracle. It had been too long since her body was submerged, snug, within her element’s embrace. And given the choice between breathing her last breaths on the cold dry forest ground, or under a river’s soft current, she’d choose the river, any day.

Using her arms to pull herself into the cold water, she breathed one final breath of chilled night air before slinking into the river water. Closing her eyes, the young maiden had but one thought:

‘If this is to be my final resting place, then so be it.’

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning started the same way all mornings do: the sun rose in the sky, the birds and bugs began their daily chirps, and a very forlorn-looking Adrian Tepes, known currently as Alucard, son of Dracula exited his castle in search for food, his usual basket in hand. Unusual however were the two corpses that greeted him as he passed the castle steps.

Alucard paid the bodies no mind, he didn’t once glance in either of their directions. He kept his eyes forward, locked onto the foliage and wildlife hidden within the forest line choosing to pretend the bodies were no longer there. Yes, he knew they were there. Of course, he knew. He was the one to string them up after all. But if he were to acknowledge the corpses' presence, then he would also be required to acknowledge the circumstances that led them to be staked there, and that was something not even the great slayer of Dracula could do. So instead Alucard did what he could: he adjusted the basket in his arms and began mentally preparing the meal he would make.

Coming to the river bank, Alucard felt something was off. He sensed another presence nearby. Kneeling down to the water, he kept his ears open for any movement within the trees but did not hear any.

‘Odd.’ The dhampir waited for a spell before resuming his usual activities. He methodically removed his boots, before rolling up the ends of his pants, as he prepared to wade into the river. He had found a comfortable position, balanced on the river rocks below his feet when he noticed another oddity.

“Where have all the fish gone?”

The river, once teeming with fish, ones even brave enough to stick around as he waded into the water, were nowhere to be seen. Besides the rushing of water over the river bank, Alucard could not hear them swimming around within the water below.

Turning his head, he found a single glint of scales reflecting the morning’s rays a few meters from where he had been standing. But just one fish? Or perhaps, a damn of some kind was preventing them from moving freely. Alucard made a move to investigate closer. But then, just as he turned to do so, what appeared to be an incredibly large fish leaped out of the river, and flopped onto the bank. It writhed around, flopping this way and that before rolling over to face him. It was at that moment Alucard realized why all the other fish had disappeared. There was no damn, no net. It was because of this… this creature.

✧ ✧ ✧

The young mermaid awoke with a start, the deep echo of footsteps underwater had vibrated her awake. From where she lay, her vision was obscured, but she could make it out that the being was human in nature, standing on two legs, with only two arms to boot. It did not possess any claws or animal characteristics like any of the night creatures from the night before, nor did it appear to resemble any of the men who had taken her.

The maiden stayed as still as stone, hoping this new strange human would grow bored of waiting for a meal to catch, turn around, and go home. But luck, as it had proven time and time again as of late, was not on her side.

The man made a move towards her position, and she found she could not help the fear that bubbled up from inside her chest. The river was too small for her to swim through. More so, moving within the water would only create splashes to further catch this stranger’s attention. If she wanted to get away, she’d need to shift back to her human form and make yet another run for it on foot.

Using the strength her long waterlogged rest had given her, she propelled her body out of the water, onto the river bank. As soon as her full body was on land, she writhed and wriggled, doing all she could to shake the excess water from her body.

Her earlier set of legs had once again merged into a fishtail, strong and thick, with grooved fins to match. Her abdomen and chest were plated with scales all up the sides. And as she shook herself dry, several of those scales slid off her body into the dirt. Her ears, previously flesh and pointed more like an elf’s, had pulled back, with loose tentacle-like fins spouting out around their outer shell. In the daylight, she knew there was no mistaking what she was. But if she was to change her form quickly, it was a risk she needed to take.

Despite the morning's warm sun, her body did not dry as fast as she had hoped. The maiden used her arms, and her now-clawed fingers to pull herself up further, finally gaining purchase on one bark of a tree, as she did her best to twist around and face this stranger head-on.

Letting out a hiss, she bore her fangs at the strange blonde man standing before her. Only the man did not seem intimidated, nor shocked to see a creature such as herself. If anything, he appeared, at ease. Was this perhaps a trap? She hissed again but found herself on the side of surprise when the seemingly human man bared his own set of fangs and hissed back.

✧ ✧ ✧

‘A mermaid?’ Alucard watched, amused, as the young creature did her best to appear menacing to him. If only she knew, how instead of fear, Alucard felt a rush of reassurance at the sight of her inhuman features.

‘Humans,’ he thought bitterly. It was two humans who had hurt him most of all. Not even his own father’s war on humanity had harmed him the way those two did. His father left him for dead paled in comparison to the shame and torment he carried with him from that one night.

Had a human shown their face on his property, he’d… Well, Alucard was not certain what he would do should they refuse his order to leave. But whatever he decided, it would not be a fate any would enjoy, that’s for certain.

Thankfully, with the very distinct mer-features of this individual, that point was moot. He did not need to threaten disembowelment or an eternity of torture as a spawn, Alucard felt no such need to.

He took a step closer, taking in her unique features. Her eyes were large and dark, almost pure pools of black. He could feel the pull luring him in closer the longer he looked into them. Her skin was almost opaque, despite its color. At certain angles, rays of the morning sun seemed to shine through her body, as opposed to around it. And her tail, no doubt the most impressive of her peculiarities, glinted impressively, making her an almost otherworldly mirage against the browns and greens of the surrounding greenery.

Of course, no sooner than Alucard could admire such an ethereal sight, her tail began to lose some of its luminescence, growing duller by the second. The previously shiny scales that overlapped each other began to flake off, one by one. Down the middle of her tail, from where her belly button would have been on her abdomen had she been a human, what scaled skin remained began to crack, viscously, like a deep fissure that would not heal. The fissure continued to grow in depth and width as Alucard came within feet of her.

She hissed for a second time at his forward movement, but Alucurd was undeterred. Smiling a sort of melancholy smile, he paused before opening up his maw, revealing his impressive fangs with a hiss of his own.

At his revelation, the creature’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the fear and hatred in her eyes, instead replaced by a much more benevolent wonder.

She opened her mouth, the tentacles around her ears shriveling into themselves, her ears changing to a more elven point as they came to rest flatter against her head. Alucard watched as her fangs dissipated too, the sharp canine points rounding themselves down into very simple humanoid-looking teeth. The back of her throat opened and closed, but very little sound came out. If she was trying to communicate, it seemed a verbal conversation was currently off the table.

“I am Alucard Tepes, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes.” Alucard spoke, taking the lead for her. “And I am not human.”

The mermaid closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree bark, wincing once or twice as a very slime-covered, human-looking bottom half cracked free from the dried shell of her former tail. She used her hands to pull the husks away from her body, leaving every bit of her person on display.

Alucard cleared his throat before deciding to remove his shirt and give it to her. He tossed the white shirt to the maiden who caught it in one hand. Bringing it in to smell, she sniffed it before looking back at him curiously.

“If you wish to spend the walk back to my castle naked, I won’t stop you. But as I’m sure you’ve learned, people up here spend most of their life clothed.”

She turned her head in the opposite direction as if to say, ‘So?’ before ultimately relenting, pulling the white top over her head.

Making a move to stand, her legs wobbled, giving out underneath her. But before she could fall, by the grace of his vampiric speed, Alucard managed to catch her, one of his arms looping under hers around her shoulder. Upon noticing the sudden conflict, the mermaiden hissed again but made no move to shove him off. Making another choked-off sound, from the back of her throat, she tried speaking again.

“Ghhank hou.” Frowning, she cleared her throat before trying again. “Thgank cou,” her voice was quiet, and yet deep and guttural at the same time as if she was holding back.

“So you can speak,” Alucard commented as he helped her walk a distance, finding her balance.

The young maiden nodded, before shaking her head. “Youg may naught want mee too.” She blinked her large, dark eyes at him, pointing to them, them down to her throat as she did so. “Sssighh-rhen.”

Alucard paused his walking, staring his golden orbs back at her. In the light, the mermaid watched as they glittered and shined, an almost metallic color, reminiscent of pirates’ gold, lulling her into a sense of security. She gave off a warning growl, having caught on to the fact that she was not the only one with influential abilities. Alucard blinked twice, breaking off the trance.

“As I said before,” he reiterated, leading the way back to his castle, “I am not human.”

The mermaiden watched him, as an almost smirk graced her inhumanely beautiful face. “Gooodd,” she hissed out.

✧ ✧ ✧

“That is how the castle came to be in my possession.”

Alucard led the young mermaiden down the many hallways and corridors of the castle, telling her the story of how he, along with Belmont and Sypha, were tasked with defeating Dracula. He stopped to point out various rooms along the way, the ones he was the most familiar with, anyway. There was still much of the castle that felt foreign to him. It was as if he walked the rows of a graveyard, rarely stopping to notice yet another name on a tombstone. How many hands had helped build this place? How much of their blood was shed to gather all the infinite knowledge and wealth that was kept here? Alucard did not know. Nor was he certain he wanted to know.

Walking past the various debris and carnage still left from their battle with Dracula, Alucard ushered her into his father’s former study, now his study. In the middle of the room sat one large rather ornate chair, placed before a cracked fireplace. In the chair was a crumbled blanket and pillow. On the small table next to it, a cold long-forgotten cup of tea. The items together suggested this chair was used in recent days for sleeping, not for sitting and reading or studying of any sort.

The mermaiden narrowed her eyes at that. Surely, even with this battle, Alucard claimed had taken place within his home, there were bedrooms and living quarters left unbothered. Why would someone in possession of such a grand and luxurious home sleep sitting up in a chair? Or perhaps, was it a question of biology, not psychology? Did a being like Alucard require sleep at all?

As the mermaiden contemplated, Alucard kneeled down to start a fire, but not before vaguely gesturing at the crack that ran up the front brick of the fireplace. “As you can see, the fight was not limited to one area or room.”

“Bprokeghn,” the mermaid nodded before gesturing herself to the chair and blanket set-up. “Behd?”

Alucard cleared his throat, as he stoked the beginning flames of the fire. “My room was… damaged, yes.”

Seemingly content with that answer, the mermaiden turned her attention to other parts of the room.

Off to the right there were various bookshelves and texts. And on the left? A modest oak desk sat under a large painting of a beautiful woman. Her hair was golden, almost appearing to glow under the warm hue of the fire’s dancing light. Her eyes were large and hopeful, and her size petite but strong. In her hand, she held a white flower, although its beauty paled in comparison to hers, it was a lovely touch against the dark maroon dress she was wearing.

“Prehty,” she said, stopping to admire the woman in the painting.

Upon hearing her words, Alucard looked up, a soft smile having formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “She was beautiful.”

Glancing back at the man, the mer creature noticed his hair was blonde and rather lovely as well. Not as gorgeous as her own siren’s locks of course, but that was understandable. She pointed to the hair of the woman in the painting before pointing to her own, and then finally, to his. “Prehty too.”

✧ ✧ ✧

From where he stood in the kitchen, Alucard watched amusedly as the young woman tried taking a bite of her grossly undercooked fish using a knife and fork, stifling a laugh every time she would manage to grip one utensil only to drop the other. Her less-than-human approach to everyday things made Alucard feel at ease. She was not a lying, conniving human he had to watch out for, she was not biding her time waiting to stab him in the back. Quite the contrary: she was blunt and rather oblivious to human social conventions.

She had very little reservations when it came to nudity, Alucard had come to discover. If it wasn’t for his polite, insistence, she would have continued to roam the castle naked. Dwelling deep underwater made her rather immune to things like catching a chill. Alucard was similar, he did not feel the cold the way humans did, although he was not entirely immune to it. He would surely suffer frostbite should he choose to venture outside in the dead of winter without any clothes on his back. However, unlike a human, and more like a vampire, it would take more than freezing exposure to do him in.

It was almost comforting in a way, to share the castle with someone who’s biology was surprisingly close to his. She was more unhuman than human most days, her residual scales and sharp claw-like nails coming back once her body had returned to full-health. Her teeth had also increased in length, although Alucard suspected she could control their sharpness at will to some degree, her opting to keep her incisors short and squared, more human-like, whenever the two would talk walks around outside the castle.

The mermaiden also had an interesting diet. She preferred her food cold, if not raw. Even things like fish and other meats, she refused to eat properly cooked. Alucard briefly recalled the first time he had tried to offer her dinner. He steamed her fish the same way he steamed his, and presented it to her, expecting gratitude. It was humourous now, but back then he recalled being rather dissatisfied with her indignant reaction. She hissed, and berated him for serving her something ‘burnt’, or ‘burrrnt’ as she had called it.

Alucard discovered it was less of a preference and more of a requirement when he found her eagerly licking the blood from a freshly killed and skinned hare he had fetched for dinner. It seemed that she, like him, and like the many other supernatural creatures, had a penchant for blood that was born out of a necessity, and not mere cruelty. With her diet of raw and bloody food, her skin appeared healthier- still as shiny and translucent, but less gray. Her human form’s skin was less cakey and dry, and when she did change back into her tailed form, which was rather often given how much she enjoyed lounging in one of the castle’s large communal baths, her scales shed much less than they had when they first met. Upon her initial arrival at the castle, Alucard found she’d leave scales behind her wherever she walked, the same way a lover might lay out a trail of rose petals. Of course in this case, there was no intimate surprise waiting for him behind closed doors (not that he’d want one given his past circumstances, anyway), but a very brash and temperamental half-siren, usually impatiently awaiting yet another “useless” lesson in human conventions.

“Naught fun-ie,” she hissed, under her breath, well aware of Alucard’s amusement. “No need for toools underwater.” She dropped both her knife and fork unceremoniously onto her plate before crossing her arms, looking like a wilful toddler.

“There’s no one to impress here,” Alucard assured her. “Besides, even without a fork and knife I’m sure you eat like a magistrate compared to Belmont. The rodents outside have more manners.”

“Belmonnt,” the fair maiden repeated, picking up her fish with her bare hands. “Frrend.”

“Yes. Although, I haven’t seen him or Sypha for quite some time.” Alucard answered, just a hint of loneliness creeping into his voice.

“Hadd frend wonss.” Biting into her fish, she tore a chunk of flesh off with her teeth, a satisfied groan leaving her body as some of the excess moisture dribbled down her chin. “Huumann too.” She swallowed her bite of fish down, not bothering to chew much at all. “Dyed.” She licked her lips in satisfaction. “Beectraaid.”

“Wherever humans are concerned, such possibilities are never in short supply.” Alucard agreed, handing her a cloth napkin to wipe her chin. “It is their nature.”

Choking down the rest of her fish, the mermaiden swallowed harshly again before asking, “Owtsighed?” Of course, the two giant stakes housing decayed corpses had not escaped her notice on their way inside.

Alucard retrieved her empty plate, moving to place it in the sink. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to remember the feel of the silver cords burning his skin, the way he suffocating under Taka and Sumi’s gaze, how if it were not for his sword and the magical component of it, it’d be his body flayed and strung up outside instead of theirs. Despite not having had anything to chew or eat, Alucard swallowed hard as well.

“Yes,” he finally said.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where are wee going?” The mermaiden asked, her vocabulary and annunciation having improved much over the last couple of weeks.

Dressed in a relatively sheer nightgown and robe, the young woman begrudgingly followed Alucard, already dressed for the day, as he led her over to the remains of the Belmont hold. Upon reaching the cleverly designed pulley system, Alucard lifted the safety bar of the lift and gestured for her to get in.

The young mer woman bared her teeth but did not hiss, a vast improvement of manners and trust on her part.

“You may recall in the past, I’ve mentioned a man named Belmont, Trevor Belmont.” Alucard set the bar back down, clicking it into place, before pulling one of the levers to begin their descent.

She nodded. “Friend. Miss him.”

Alucard furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I’ve once said I missed his company.”

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, a form of nonverbal human communication she had recently picked up on. “Still,” she wagged a finger, disapprovingly. “Can tell. No want to be alone.”

Having reached the bottom of the lift, Alucard secured the platform before exiting, seemingly eager to remove himself from their current conversation. “I speak his name frequently because he has gifted me a rather large piece of his family’s inheritance for safekeeping. Without my permission, I might add.”

Flicking a large switch on the wall, the mermaiden watched in awe as hundreds of blue flames suddenly sparked alight, illuminating an expansive cavern of towered rows and rows of books and other meticulously organized collections.

“This,” Alucard extended his arm out, showcasing the vastness of the space before them, “Is the Belmont Hold. It possesses all the knowledge the Belmonts learned on creatures of the night, the collection starting generations ago. Everything any Belmont learned has been recorded onto paper, and stored somewhere within these tomes.”

Temporarily blindsided by excitement, the mermaiden found herself quickly making her way down several sets of stairs, her balance thankfully having improved tenfold, as she ignored the darker implications of Alucard’s words.

“So much boooks!” She cried out, settling on entering a random upper row of tomes, pulling one out of the shelf. “So much papper!”

Alucard nodded, coming to join her. “I take it your people do not have much use for such records underwater?”

The young mer woman nodded, running her clawed fingers delicately over the inked pages. “Runes. Maghik. No paper.”

Carefully, Alucard took the book from her hands and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. Before the mermaiden could bare her teeth or hiss at him in irritation he had already begun climbing down a nearby ladder, calling for her to follow. “Come. The books are impressive, but they are not what I wish to show you.”

Reaching the lowest level before her, Alucard smiled softly as his eyes were met with the familiar scene of a magic mirror, and open chest. How strange to think he and his friends stood on this very ground when Sypha successfully managed to summon the castle. How strange to think right there, under his feet, was where Adrian Tepes died and Alucard of Wallachia truly began.

There was a time when Alucard believed he and he alone would be the one to ever stand upon this, practically hallowed ground. Belmont was not yet sure if he wished to resume the responsibilities of his namesake. And Sypha, well, Sypha had chosen to follow Belmont in whatever trouble he managed to get himself into. Who knows if they would be back, if they ever intended on coming back? At the end of their journey, there was Alucard, left alone to shoulder the burden of both their families’ legacies.

Trevor had told him not to make the castle his grave, but to use it and the hold to… help people. Such a task seemed near impossible when you were one dhampir, isolated far away from the rest of the world. But then, Alucard reflected, along came Taka and Sumi, and perhaps, he had once thought, he would no longer have to be alone.

They were so eager to learn, but they were also so eager to leave. They did not come intending to stay, Alucard knew this, and yet, he could not help the way he drew their lessons out, making sure to be as detailed as possible. If they must go, he supposed, he could make it so they did not leave for a while. It was foolish to think his desires would go unnoticed by the two humans. More foolish perhaps, to expect them to understand. Alucard had been wrong.

They sensed he was less than forthcoming, Alucard could not deny that was true. But he never lied, not once to them. But in their humanity, in their hurt and in their pain and guilt and anger they felt they were deceived. Perhaps deception was so readily on their mind because they had arrived with a plan to play him for a fool all along.

Either way, it was fatal on their part. Alucard may have wanted them to stay, but he did not need them. They alleviated his loneliness, but they were not necessary companions, not like Trevor or Sypha. They were far too different, far too divested from the line of existence Alucard walked to ever truly understand him. Being human, they ignorantly believed themselves to possess so many options of their own, but as fate had proven: they too were wrong.

But this young woman, this siren, this mermaid, she was different. She did not come seeking him, rather their meeting was entirely accidental. And this time, the playing field was even: she needed him just as much, if not more, than Alucard wanted her. It was different this time. Here, within the Belmont hold and his castle, she was the outsider. And no matter how long she stayed with him, no matter how hard she tried, she would remain less human than Alucard. Next to her, he was not a monster or a beast, no.

At her side, he appeared solely as Wallachia’s savior, Alucard, and he was neither human nor monster.

Coming back to the present moment, Alucard watched silently as the mermaiden approached the glass display case of vampire skulls. He watched as her eyes widened, and her fists clenched, before she spun around, her fangs bared. “Exsplain, now!”

“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries. They came to Wallachia hunting Dracula and his army of vampires.”

“You said Belmont friend!”

“He is- was. As I have said to you before, he aided me in my journey to defeat my Father Dracula, to prevent him from securing the extinction of the human race.”

The mermaiden tilted her head to the side. “Buut why? You vampire.”

“Not entirely,” Alucard countered.

The mermaiden’s eyes squinted. “What?”

“The woman in portraits you’ve so admired within the castle, she was my mother, Lisa Tepes, and she was human.”

Enraged, the mermaiden’s face contorted into an expression of anger, her nostrils flaring with every huff of air she took. “Liar!” She accused him, making her way around the side of the cabinet, trying to move past the dhampir without encountering him directly. “You said humans betrayed! You said not like them! You lie!”

“I did not lie. I never told you I was wholly vampire, nor did I once say I was not part human.” Alucard mirrored her movement, cutting her off before she could reach the stairs. “I aided humanity only to be betrayed by humans. I do not belong in their world, nor do they belong in mine.”

“Nor in minesss!” She snarled. “You human. Not friend. Not anymoresss.” Shoving past Alucard she began up the stairs before she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Alucard, his expression angry, his fangs elongated and on clear display.

“And where will you go? Your human charade may not disturb me but it is bound to alert others. There is no city, no town where you could travel that they would believe you to be one of their own.” His voice was deep, dark, and full of disdain.

“Then I go home,” she retorted. “With othersss like mee.”

“Do you think they will accept you now you’ve lived with a human, lain with a human?”

“Half,” she spit into his face before sneering: “Half huumannn.”

Alucard did not even flinch, entirely unphased by her vulgar action. “Human nonetheless,” he said, the ice in his veins offset only by the golden fire in his eyes. “Not even they would welcome you back now. There is nowhere you can go, no one who would welcome you. I,” he spoke, baring his fangs, “am all you have left. I am the only one who understands.”

The mermaiden opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. She closed her mouth before opening it again, still hesitant on how to respond. If it was not as serious of a moment, Alucard would have laughed: she truly looked like a fish out of water.

Careful as not to spook her, he slowly raised one hand, using it to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. How strange a sight to see a siren crying, awful yet beautiful at the same time. Like him, Alucard thought.

“You are the only one who could possibly understand me. You need not ever leave.” Alucard used his other hand to take one of her own, and guide it, resting it atop his chest. “I do not wish to be alone anymore.”

The maiden choked back more tears, shocked she was shedding them in the first place in Alucard’s presence.

Prior to those horrible humans taking her, tears were not something the mermaiden had ever experienced. Living underwater, she was surrounded by saltwater. Even on the occasions she was consumed by great emotion, her eyes behaved no different, felt no different than they did being in their usual full-contact with water as they were everyday. But after she was taken, she found the ability to cry, something she despised. It burned the skin of her cheeks with hot shame, her throat felt too tight for air: the process of crying was foreign, and undeniably painful. She prayed it would not become a normal occurrence for her. She swore the moment she was free of her captors, she would never shed a tear again. And then she met Alucard. And he was…

Sweet. He was kind. He was not an ignorant, vengeful human. Surely, he would not give her reason to cry. They were of the same kind, she and him. He would harbor no hate for her in his heart.

How foolish of the girl to think hatred was the only feeling capable of creating pain, of making remorse. Afterall, ‘love’ was just as powerful. ‘Love’ was just as dangerous.

Deep down, the young siren knew the dhampir’s words were true: there was nowhere else she could go, there was no one else who would understand her, and care for her the way he did.

In fairness, he was not fully human, he was half vampire, and his father was the great Lord Dracula to boot. He was not simple in the way other humans were. He was not stupid in the way people were. He was educated and well-aware of the fragility of egos, the slow passing of time… He did not look at the world through a mortal lens. The mermaiden knew she could do worse, in choosing someone to trust, in picking someone to rely on.

Then again, he was half-human. She was wise to fear him, to doubt him. He may have meant what he said, when he told her she need not leave, but that did not mean she needn’t want to. But she was so far from home, so far from more of her own kind. Who else left in this region ravaged by night creatures and monsters would open their home to her the way he had? Perhaps it was wiser to stay.

Did she even possess a choice in the matter?

Even withIn the arms of that former stranger, she felt more forsaken than she had when those evil traders first captured her. She felt so alone… Gods…

She, too, wished not to be alone anymore.

“Ssstay.”

“What?” Alucard’s head snapped up at the sound of her words. “Truly?” He could not help the hope that seeped into his voice. “You wish to stay with me?”

Before him, the mermaiden nodded, yet another human expression she had come to love over the past few weeks. “Yessss,” she hissed out, her voice still nasally from her earlier tears. “I ssstay.”

A/N: Holy shit! Almost 8,000 words here. And to think I did it all while fighting the worst virus of my life! (See, THAT just goes to show you how strong my love for Alucard is.

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#alucard x reader #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard #alucard imagine #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #tw yandere #tw: yandere #yandere #os #castlevania #yandere alucard siren reader

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year

Text

N$FW Alphabet:

Buggy Edition!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

It's pretty piss poor, He will glad a big ass towel and sort of pat you clean. Unsure how to be properly affectionate and is actually awkward as hell.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

He likes his hair he finds it the only part of his body that is conventionally attractive. He takes very good care of his hair because of this.

For his S/O he is a breast man- Titties are a good day for anyone and he loves them. Big, small, flat or perky. He loves them

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

On your face- It will always be his place of choice. He just loves the messy look on you and often you panting, red faced. The cum just adds to your beauty.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He wants you to ride his face- he's just too self conscious to admit it. He wants you to use his face like a seat.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He's experienced with paid sex- (Gotta pay for a ship somehow) But otherwise no. He has no Charaisma so nah-

F= Favorite position

Doggy- Likes to pull your hair and completely wreck you from behind. Watch your body bounce from his wrath.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Surprisingly he isn't thay Goofy. During sex he is quite focused and serious- But afterwards often in the afterglow were he is just feeling good does he will giggle and be really cute.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Surprisingly well groomed. Finds that his blue curls can be very irritating to deal with if he slacks it will turn into a mess. So he keeps a takes well care for set of blue curls that are as lovely as the hair on his head.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Surprisingly while he likes rough sex and rough play he uses romantic elements- these rough bites, bruises are his way of being romantic

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

A ton- He will sometimes just sit on his throne and rub one out. However now that he has a S/O he will just have sex with you more now.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

He has several-

He loves claiming his S/O with acts of BDSM. Also loves bites, has a massive bite Kink and dominate Kink.

- secret sub kink but thats down the line-

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Anywhere- But loves his throne the most. Will fully fuck his S/O on his throne for all to see.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Nice cleavage of any type

But the biggest turn on for him is acts of care. If you're genuinely nice to him he will be turned on the most.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Degradation, he hates it... Biggest way to turn him off and get him mad.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

On he loves receiving but wants to give, he desperately wants to be a giver but feels self conscious.

After a while will bring it up and will suddently be the biggest giver ever.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Relatively he has a fast pace but can last a while. Maybe it's the years of hopelessly beating his meat but he he can last a while.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

His favorite form of sex! He loves Quickies all throughout the ship.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

They are hesitant. So 50/50 on new things

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Around 15 minute rounds for the most part, But

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He is a Toy! He is a living sex toy. Any and everything can be detached and that's a fun toy for you! If you add

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Buggy is sometimes a tease- Usually in public he will tease. Either by having his hands on very sensitive goods or straight up using his detached dick to be rested inside of them in a form of cockm

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Surprise Surprise Buggy is quite loud and vocal- He loves to give out praise and loud moans. He wants everyone to hear him!

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Buggy will sometimes bottom for his S/O while not often he will defienly will let his softer whine come out. Letting out whimpers and sweet moans of bliss.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Buggy is surprisingly well endowed. A solid 9inches and very girthy. Neatly trimmed blue pubes and a creamy tan color with hints of pink.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

He has very high sex drive. May it be that he was deprived for physical affection for so long that now he has a incredibly high sex drive.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Buggy is farily last falling asleep afterwards. Cuddling against you and acts awkwardly. May try to give some awkward jokes.

#x reader #one peice x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #one peice live action #one piece

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luvv4j4ybe11 · 6 months

Note

could you maybe write something where reader was previously human but now is an avatar but she doesn’t know about heat, kind of like what Blue-Slxt wrote with Neteyam but with Lo’ak:3 (sorry if you don’t understand this is my first time requesting anything and i’m still practicing english)

PHEW OK!!, I’ll try my best, baby.

Warnings: p n v, a/b/o elements, dom!loak, sub!reader, heat and rut cycle, breeding kink, Dacryphilla, lo’ak marks reader ALOT, scent kink, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), daddy kink (if you squint), praise, slight degradation, choking (again, if you squint), squirting, rough sex, aged up!lo’ak, and I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything, and enjoy, my love<3

Translation: “Mawey, ma’muntxate”- “be calm, my mate.”, “Oe omum, sevin ‘evenge,Oe omum” - “I know, pretty girl, I know.”

When you first got your avatar, excited doesn’t even begin to describe how you were feeling. You were finally able to be with your mate, without wearing that annoying mask or always trailing behind him because of his long, confident strides.

You could run faster, climb faster, react faster. You were finally one of the people.

You just wished they had told you about this, though.

The excruciating pain you felt deep in your core, the hot, itchy feeling of needing to be filled to the brim becoming more and more difficult to handle.

You don’t even remember how you ended up on the floor of your hut, or how why the basket of fruits was spilled on the floor, but that didn’t matter. You needed lo’ak.

You crawl over to you and lo’aks bed before climbing on, flopping onto your pillows weakly and tearing your loincloth off, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease.

It’s not enough.

The stretch is nice, but it’s not lo’aks cock stretching you out. You frustratedly pound and curl your fingers into your leaking cunt, searching for a pace that helps you the most.

You huff and whine as you pound at your pussy relentlessly, not satisfied with any pace you experiment with.

Frantically you reach up to your neck, pressing the button on the throat com that was only for you and lo’ak.

“Lo’ak..” you sound weak, as if words are heavy on your tounge.

there’s silence at first, so you go to speak again, but then you hear, “yeah, mama? Are you ok?” He asks, slight panic rushing through him when he hears silence on the other side.

“I need you to..” you take a short breath to hold back the guttural scream you wanted to let out because of the pain. “I need you to come home.” You ask breathlessly, the request makes him already say his goodbyes to his family and damn near sprint towards your hut.

“I’m coming, mama, ok? Just breathe. It’s gonna be alright.” He says softly, a feeling of sadness swirling through his chest at the idea of what you could be going through. And he wasn’t with you.

His voice makes your pace turn more frantic and desperate, soft moans leaving your plush lips, but the second the line goes dead, you groan frustratedly. Pace turning back to what it was before.

The overpowering yet addicting smell loak is hit with when he opens the makeshift door to your hut tells him all that he needed to know, the sight in front of him just proving as more evidence that you were going through your first heat.

The pathetic display in front of him makes a perverted smirk adorn his features, he knew how much pain you were in, and yes he felt fucking horrible because of it, but it was just adorable to watch you shove three fingers into your desperate cunt. All your little frustrated moans, whines, and whimpers made him almost wanna sit in front of you and just watch you, until you were begging for him to do something, anything.

But he wasn’t going to do that. Not today, at least.

He walks over to the bed and sits next to you, gently taking your fingers out of your soaked hole and replacing them with his own, erupting a loud moan from you. “Shsh, babygirl. It’s ok, lemme take care of you, yeah?” He says with a small smile of his face, but his tone was husky and lust filled, just the sound of it had you whimpering pathetically.

You chose to respond with a lazy nod to his words as you tug at his cumberbund, urging him to get closer to you. A little giggle can be heard from lo’ak before he obliges to your request, getting on top of you slowly; peppering all kinds of kisses and bruises in his wake before kissing you passionately.

His lips slide between yours in a perfect harmony, one that makes the burning in your core more unbearable.

Soft moans can be heard from you, and even softer ones from your mate, but you easily picked up on them with the help of your heat. The sound of his noises was enough for you to already feel the knot in your stomach get tighter, instinctively making you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing his body into you more and pressing his fingers even deeper into you.

You nip at his lip roughly, pulling a loud growl from him before he pulls away from you. The sight below him is one he wants to paint in his mind for eternity; your lips were all puffy and raw, face covered in a light purple blush, skin glistening with a layer of sweat, and, fuck..your eyes..they were a completely different shade than their natural color, instead now a dark orange rather than their usual lively green. You looked utterly breathtaking to him.

He leans down to press a quick, loving kiss to your lips before he journeys down the valley of your body; going from your neck, to your chest,making sure to pinch and nip at the hardened buds till he feels his work is done, and when he decides that it is he continues his adventure down until he’s face to face with your glistening cunt.

Just the sight of your pussy splayed out for him like this has his body hot with desire and arousal. A damn near animalistic growl leaving him as he uses his pointer and middle fingers to part your folds, an effortless trail of slick dripping onto his fingers.

You squirm slightly when you feel him part your folds, shallow breaths being blown onto the sensitive flesh, emitting a blissful whimper from you as you reach down to squeeze his free hand for some type of relief. “Fuck, mama…you’re soaked,” his baritone and his remark pulled you out of your haze momentarily, looking down to be met with the huge puddle of your arousal on the bed below you. Shit. You really were soaked.

You only had the chance to feel slightly embarrassed before another wave of pain punched through your core, making you whimper loudly before turning your attention to your mate. “Lo’ak, please! Need you s’bad..” you cried, wrapping a dainty hand around his wrist before grinding into his hand shamelessly.

Lo’ak briefly lets himself be hypnotized by your incoherent stare before snapping out of it, pinning both of your wrists with his hand and wrapping his other around your hip.

“Enough. Lemme help you, yeah? Can you be good for me and let me play with you?” He asked through a thick tone of lust, but It came out as more of a demand than a question. Nevertheless, you obeyed to his request because you wanted to be good for him.

A soft hum of approval came from him before he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves before licking a bold stripe up your pussy. The sensation has you on cloud nine, already hurdling towards the edge once you feel him slide his skilled tongue into your greedy hole, curling it upwards to press against your sweet spot. Making you see stars instantly as loud streams of moans and whimpers left your plush lips.

“Don’t cum, mama. Not yet.” He insisted, now letting your wrist go to lay his hand flat on your stomach. If you could furrow your brows at him, you would. There’s no way you could hold it, not with how over sensitive your heat was making you.

Before you could open your mouth to protest, you’re interrupted by his finger nudging itself inside of you, the length of it now pressing directly against your sweet spot. You knew the coil in your stomach was seconds away from snapping, and so did he. “Lo’ak! Please, I can’t hold it..needa cum s’bad..please!,” you beg, a soft pout on your face when you feel him pull his finger out of you.

Lo’ak smirks at your bratty expression before leaving a sweet kiss to your clit, “Nope. Not yet, mama.” He coos, kissing your clit a few more times before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking softly, making a loud moan leave your lips and a broken plea for him to speed up, to which he denies. He knew that if he were to make you cum now, you’d be ready to go in a matter of seconds. So he wanted to drag it out longer, instead turning those seconds into minutes.

With his hands all over you, combined with his addictingly earthy scent, you knew it wouldn’t take much to get you close again. And sure enough, with just a little more flicks and sucks of your clit, you felt yourself getting closer to letting go.

Lo’ak didn’t even have to ask if you were close, he read you like a book. Which is why he didn’t stop his movements, if anything he increased them.

The sensation was enough to have you shaking, already a mess for him just from some little licks. “Fuck!~ please, lolo! Can I cum? I~ah~I wanna..please..” you babble, brain turning into goo once his tounge slides inside of you, emitting an almost pornographic moan from you. You’re thanking your lucky stars now that your hut is the furthest away from the village.

He taps your thigh lightly, signaling that you can let go as he whispers a sweet “you can cum now, ok mama? Need you to be a good girl for daddy and cum all over my face,” The huskiness in his voice combined with the possessiveness that radiated off of him had you coming undone in a matter of seconds, painting his face with your arousal shamelessly.

He doesn’t let up though, still eagerly sucking and lapping up your juices until you’re begging him to let up. And he does of course, because how could he ever deny you.

You wrap your hands around the sides of his face to pull him into a sloppy yet passionate kiss, moaning lewdly in his mouth when you taste yourself on his tongue.

Wrapping your legs around him, you press his clothed bulge into your cunt, silently urging for him to slide inside of you. He groans into the kiss when he feels your puffy folds rub against his clothed cock, instinctively bucking his hips into you as he pulls away from the kiss so he can look at your eyes. “You sure you’re ready for me, mama?” He asks calmly, but his body said everything he wasn’t.

You nod your head feverishly, responding with a breathless, “fuck, yes lolo, I need it. I need you inside of me, now.” The way those words fell off of your tongue so effortlessly had his cock twitching rapidly, instinctively making you grind into him.

With one last glance of confirmation, he leans in to give you a tender kiss as he hurriedly unties his loincloth. The burning in your core has tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, making you claw at lo’aks broad shoulders and let out a plea of, “Babyboy, please..it hurts so bad.” To which lo’ak responds by cupping your face gently, letting out a soft coo of, “Oe omum, sevin ‘evenge,Oe omum…gonna~mhm, fuck..~make it better, ok?,” as he slides his bulbous tip into your leaking hole.

A small shriek comes from you when he presses his tip inside of you, you’ve had sex before, yes, but the stretch is something you’ll never get used to. By the time he’s halfway in you swear you can feel him in your stomach, making you cry out as he twitches inside of you. “Mawey, ma’muntxate..you’re doing so well for me. Just need you to relax and breathe for me ok?” He consoles, trying his best to focus on his own breathing the more you clench around him.

His words soothe you slightly, letting him slide the rest of himself inside of you with ease. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and he was only halfway in. He was so close to being buried so deeply inside of you, you swear you were spraining from it. The burning sensation in your core was bubbling up the more he eased inside of you, and now that he was finally pressed against your gummy walls you felt like fresh water was thrown onto you.

But it still wasn’t enough, you needed to feel fuller, needed him to spill his hot, sticky cum inside of you until you tasted it on your tongue.

“Mama, You alri-“

“Move.” Is all you mutter to him before you wrap your tail around his waist, urging him to set a relentless pace. And he gets the memo quickly, pounding at your over sensitive cunt relentlessly as he wraps his free hand around your throat gently, the other wrapped around your hip so tight you knew there was going to be a bruise on it.

The pace has you seeing stars, wrapping your legs around him firmly to get him closer inside of you, but that was stopped by him throwing your legs over his shoulders effortlessly. Folding you in half under his hulking frame as if you weigh nothing.

“Stay still. Don’t make you tell you again.” He demanded through a thick growl, and you swear you saw his eyes change color; going from green to a deep shade of red before going back to normal. It made you shudder, he was practically dripping in dominance and you were craving more of it. Especially with the way he’s slamming into that sensitive spongy heat relentlessly, making all kinds of moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

The unraveling of coil in your stomach gets more and more unbearable with each one of his brutal, yet particular, thrust. Causing all kinds of pleas and yelps to slip from your mouth, hoping your mate would understand your babbling. “Wanna cum, mama? Shit..can’t tell by the way this cute little pussy is squeezing me. Almost like she doesn’t want me to pull out…is that right, baby? You want me to fill this greedy pussy up till it takes?” You nod incoherently, body shuddering from the idea of lo’ak stuffing you full with his cum.

He knew his words were only gonna make your orgasm even more intense, and make the next one subside slowly, but he couldn’t help it. You just look so adorable all drunk and needy on his cock. How could he not spur you (and honestly himself) on more by promising to breed you?

You grip onto his biceps hard enough to leave bruises, using your hold on him as an anchor as you come undone with a long moan, tears spilling down your face from the intensity of it. “Awhh, already crying, mama?- ah fuck-Such a sensitive girl, i make you cum once and you’re already a mess. My poor girl..” He teases with a fake sympathy in his tone. His words make you whimper pathetically, more tears spilling over your eyes when he doesn’t stop pounding at your raw pussy.

“Lo’ak..i-i-mhm!~..ca-n’t..wanna…” you didn’t even know if he understood what you were saying, hell, you didn’t even understand it. But the soft chuckle that came from him told you everything you needed to know. “I know,princess. You’re being such a good girl for me, you know that? So fucking-mhm~ tight and warm for me. So perfect,” he grunted, the grip on your waist tightening the sloppier his thrust got. You whine in response to his soft praises, tugging him in by his biceps so he can get somehow closer to you.

He swear he could feel his heart ache at the sight of your needy, fucked out expression and the sensation of your soft, warm walls clamping down onto him makes him groan lowly, cock twitching inside of you the closer he gets. “Gonna..gonna put a baby in you, ok mama? Gonna look so..fuck-..so pretty all swollen with my baby in you.” He mumbles before cumming inside of you with a guttural growl, triggering you to soak his cock and lower abdomen as you come undone once again.

The thick ropes of his warm cum painting your gummy walls has the pain of your heat fading away, untill it eventually turns into nothing. For now.

Quiet whimpers and moans turn into heavy breaths once you come down from your high, but lo’ak was still rutting into your slick walls. Instinctively, you try to push away from the overstimulation, but that was stopped by the iron grip on your hip and the aggressive hiss that came from your mate.

His eyes were now a deep shade of red, and his body was on fire. The heat combined with his addicting pheromones triggered the second wave of your heat.

“Lo- wa-ah!-wait! Slow down please, babyb-“

“Hush. Let me use your precious little cunt. And If you’re good for me, I’ll knot you. Sound good?” He told you as he flipped you over so you were now on your hands and knees, wasting no time to situate himself back inside of you so he can continue ramming into your silky pussy. Your body submitting to him effortlessly as he angels your hips so he can ram into your sweet spot deeper.

Even though the haze of your heat, you knew this was going to be a long night.

A/N~ this ask has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHSSSS so I’m so sorry to the nonnie who sent this in, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you, boo. Also this turned out way longer than I expected, at least it’s smth😚 I hope you enjoyed this, nonnie!. Stay safe and stay hydrated, babies. I love you all endlessly.

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

Taglist~ @tallulah477 , @hotdsworld , @plooto , @blue-slxt , @itchaboi-itchyboy , @xylianasblog , @etherial-moon-blog , @criticallybella, @professional-yapper, @rivatar, @aperiraa

(If you’d like to be added to or removed from my general taglist, please lmk! And if your tag isn’t working check your settings💕)

#༄❤︎︎��𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#༄❤︎︎𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬❤︎︎༄#avatar #luvv4j4ybe11 #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #loak sully #atwow loak #lo’ak sully smut #lo’ak x female reader #avatar lo’ak #lo’ak smut #lo’ak sully #lo’ak avatar #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #aged up loak #avatar twow

382 notes · View notes

jen-with-a-pen · 1 year

Text

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on.

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was.

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go.

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin.

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand.

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.”

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare.

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head.

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz.

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve.

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared.

You’d never seen Steve scared before.

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors.

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned.

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!”

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in.

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver.

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster.

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–”

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation.

The lights went next.

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close.

Too close.

Another BANG! Then another.

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you.

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in.

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean.

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue.

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment.

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare.

The intruder’s steps stopped.

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous.

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!”

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue.

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold.

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights.

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground.

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway.

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time.

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors.

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor.

You were fast, but he was faster.

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself.

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash.

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords.

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils.

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood.

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium.

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release.

“You owe me what’s mine –!”

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor.

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck.

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!”

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life.

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better.

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter.

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.”

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway.

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though.

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in.

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof.

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras.

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again.

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand.

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face.

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky.

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you.

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial.

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches.

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey.

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you.

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone.

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable.

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless.

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine.

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time.

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt.

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come.

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

563 notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 1 year

Text

pairing: incubus!grimmjow jaegerjacquez x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

about: the ravenous desire of your roommate never seems to abate despite the late nights he spends outside of the comfort of your apartment. when he approaches you, the truth comes out. can you fulfill the appetite of an incubus?

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw dark content - dubcon, somnophilia. brief mention of masturbation (f), unprotected penetrative sex (piv), light degradation (slut/slutty), creampie, possessiveness. reader is only partially awake/aware through the fic and assumes she's dreaming.

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! yall ever wanted to fuck a cat boy demon before bc i know i have and here he is in all his weirdo glory. what i love about doing this is that it rly forces me out of my element (writing more smut bc historically i haven't enjoyed writing it all that much) and exploring new/darker concepts i haven't always felt like i have the ability to write.

hopefully this is something everyone can enjoy! thank you for reading ♡

Since you signed your lease nine months ago, you’ve always had a standing agreement with your strange roommate Grimmjow.

“If you need anything, just knock on my door and I’ll be there.”

You aren’t sure why you felt compelled to offer your time or support to the man in the first place - perhaps it was your too tender heart taking one roving glance over him and realizing that he simply looked like he needed someone. Eyes like a predator, narrowed and a sharp, angular frame in an oversized t-shirt. You met him through an online post looking for a roommate and desperation, and the end of your relationship, gave you no option but to accept. The situation appeared too fortuitously for you to turn it down.

The past nine months have gone as swimmingly as one could expect living with a stranger would, though.

He comes and goes without much fuss but if you are honest with yourself - you find some of his habits strange. You try not to think too hard about them, after all you’re just his roommate and he owes you no explanation, but there are times where you wonder why he skulks late at night. When he comes home after these late night adventures, you always notice him looking rested the next day and it has never made sense to you. The dark circles under his eyes seem to magically abate and his posture fixes itself, walking tall and strong across the scuffed wooden floors the two of you share.

Aside from this, though - he pays his half of the rent on time, he manages to clean up after himself as well as you can expect, and he asks you no questions about who you are or what you’re doing with your life.

Until tonight, strangely enough.

“What are you gettin’ up to tonight?”

Grimmjow’s voice is a growl more so than anything else, as long as you’ve known him it has been this way, but it sounds different. Lower, perhaps. You tip your head to the side and offer a half smile, shrugging and letting the collar of your oversized t-shirt fall off of your shoulder enough to expose the flesh beneath it.

“Weather’s supposed to be shitty so I’m staying in. Same as usual.”

He hums his answer, stretching his legs to place his feet on the table across from the couch where you both sit. You take a moment to look over him - blue eyes and hair to match. You’ve never asked him if the hair color is natural, assuming the opposite is true, but you have never seen a hint of dark brown or blonde growing out of his head.

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’ve never seen him do but you’ve always just assumed he does them at night while he’s out but you try too hard not to think about it. The two of you have a no questions asked policy, at least silently you’ve agreed to one but you bite further, breaking your own internal code to pry for details.

“How about you?”

Shifting where he sits, he puts his arms up over his head and readjusts his legs, one foot resting on top of the other. You watch his shift in posture, eyes trailing up long legs and admiring the way his bicep bulges with the angle his arm is bent at. It’s strange but you’ve never taken the time to really look at your roommate in all these months but now that you are.

He’s pretty hot.

You look away quickly, hoping you weren’t caught in the act of boundary bouncing, placing your hands in your lap primly and he smirks, settling into the couch behind him with a few wiggles of his shoulders. He takes his turn looking at you, a smile you’re trying to hide and hair still damp after getting out of the shower, and he wonders how you haven’t caught onto him yet. This isn’t the first time he has eyed you with those blazing, partially sunken eyes but you feel the intensity of it this time and tuck your shoulders forward to hide the embarrassment of being seen.

“Might stick around,” he sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Feelin’ kinda hungry though.”

Instantly, you beam. Perhaps this could be a good way for the two of you to actually get to know each other since you have never really shared a meal with the man outside of shitty pizza on the nights you’ve stayed up late enough to greet him before he leaves and doesn’t return until sunrise.

“I can make us some dinner if you wanna stick around? If not, I get it, it’s not supposed to get super bad out until later.”

What you don’t realize is that the hunger he’s speaking of is something very different than what can be sated by what you’re offering. Despite this, for a brief moment, he considers it and you watch him do so. He licks his bottom lip, pink tongue darting out and takes one of his hands off of the back of his head to rub his thumb in the wet trail left behind by the motion.

“Nah, I gotta do a couple things.”

Heat you’ve never felt before crawls up the back of your neck and you look away again. You’re flustered, the effortless eroticism of whatever just happened making your skin feel itchy, and he chuckles.

What could possibly be so funny?

You think of the question but don’t say it aloud, almost embarrassed at his reaction to you. Did you misread his suggestion? Did you just make the next three months of your lease unbearably awkward?

Grimmjow takes his feet off the table and places them on the ground, leaning forward and your gaze falls on the forward bend of his spine and the way the overgrown hair at the nape of his neck curls slightly.

Why are your eyes so drawn to him today? It feels as though it takes all of your self control just to look away but you manage to, cheeks warm and hairline dappled with sweat. This feeling is strange in a way that you lack the words to explain and you keep your eyes trained on the ground even as he stands up and stretches, his shirt exposing the bottom of his abdomen.

“I’ll take you up on your offer another night, though.”

Flicking your eyes upward, you catch the sliver of tanned skin just above his waistline and another rash of heat crawls across your face. Your mouth is dry and you nod, lifting your face enough to give him an uncertain and forced smile.

“You alright?” Again, you nod. It’s all you can do right now until you have a sip of water or get some air or…something. He smirks and gives you a sidelong glance as he heads toward the door.

“Get some fresh air, it might make you feel better.”

Your face heats further knowing that he can tell what’s happening to you but he makes no other comment. The sound of him slipping on his jacket and boots fills the otherwise quiet apartment and he opens the door hoping he can find something to sate this appetite before he comes home and makes it your problem.

Judging by how you reacted to him tonight, though, you may not be all that upset if he does make it your problem but that’s a boundary to be tested another time.

“Fuck,” you whimper with your lip tucked between your teeth, the squelching of your fingers working in and out of your own sopping cunt filling your bedroom interspersed with whines and moans both from you and the little video on your phone.

The moment Grimm left, the heat became unbearable. You thought about taking your shorts off right on the couch and letting your fingers explore but held yourself back, instead taking a few minutes to walk around, have something to drink, to see if the need started to feel less intense.

After several minutes of intense pacing, you decided to take care of the issue yourself. Sure, it’s perverted and wrong to feel this turned on simply by taking a good hard look at your damn near otherworldly roommate but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and after this you’ll go back to keeping your distance.

Letting your fingers dip further inside of you, you gasp, mouth forming the first letter of his name. Immediately you freeze, shocked that you’d be so brazen despite the apartment being empty, and you shut your eyes tightly and silently work yourself toward orgasm with someone else’s pleas for more playing through the speaker on your phone.

A little whimper is all you manage, walls clenching around your digits. It isn’t the best you’ve ever had but it isn’t the worst either and it seems like enough for now to help your racing heartbeat calm down to something more manageable. Withdrawing your fingers with a deep breath, filling your lungs completely before emptying them in the same fashion by exhaling, you roll over onto your side, locking and tossing your phone on the bedside table.

What the fuck just happened? What the fuck has this entire evening been?

Chuckling at the absurdity of the past few hours, you reach around blindly for something to wipe your sticky hand on and settle on the t-shirt you discarded earlier. You know you need to get up but you feel pleasantly dazed instead, wiping your fingers and keeping your heavy eyes shut.

Free from embarrassment and far less wound up, you start to doze. The room is cool and the fall storm the news warned you about blows outside, the gentle sound of thunder lulling you into an unexpected but much needed rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear a knock, knock, knock at your cracked bedroom door.

Eyes fluttering open just enough to see Grimmjow standing in the doorway, you shut and open them just to make sure you’re really seeing what you’re seeing. It’s too dark to make out all of him but your blurry eyes scan his face, noticing his cheeks look almost hollow and the same deep dark circles beneath his eyes before he left tonight look darker and heavier.

“Grimm?” You ask and his response is a low growl, footsteps echoing through your quiet room as he pads toward the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?”

He stalks like a predator across the floor, making methodical and swift footfalls at the foot of your bed. You sit up, forgetting that you fell asleep completely nude, and his pacing stops when his eyes settle on your exposed breasts, your blanket bunched beneath them.

“I’m hungry,” he repeats just as he did earlier and you are too tired to figure out what he means. Giggling, you still haven’t noticed the way he eyes you hungrily, stiffened nipples grabbing his attention and keeping it.

“Couldn’t find anything good to eat while you were out?”

Your words are a jumble, something that would make sense to no one else but the man who has lived with you for 9 months who has figured out your morning sleepy voice and the way it all blurs together. He approaches the edge of your bed and sits down, watching you lay back down and settle against your comforter.

“Nothing sounded good,” he admits, flipping around and crawling on all fours up the bed. You’re so sweet and disarmed, rain pattering on the windowpane while your chest rises and falls and your eyes fight to stay shut. “Definitely not as good as what’s at home.”

You giggle again, eyes closed so you don’t notice the way the distance between the two of you closes further. His body is large but lithe and each movement sends him closer and closer to you until he catches the scent of something familiar.

Arousal.

He grins, feral and large, crawling the extra few inches to fully envelop you. Caging you in with his arms, your eyes open and see his face inches from yours, his bare chest almost pressing against your own.

“What are you doing?”

The question doesn’t seem alerted or concerned, just curious, and sleepy you reaches out to brush your fingers down the defined bicep holding him up. He chuckles and the sound makes the same heat you felt hours ago crawl up your neck and that’s the moment you realize something is different about him. Your hackles raise slightly and you sit up but he pushes you back down gently, hand splayed between your breasts.

“You said I could come to you for anything I needed, right?”

Despite the fact his hand feels so hot it could burn a hole straight through your body, you nod. You offered yourself months ago and he had yet to take advantage of your kindness. Leaning down, he watches your eyes fully open and presses his forehead to yours.

“I need you,” he mutters and your eyes meet his. A storm of blue, a flurry of something you have never seen before. He groans, almost looking pained and you gasp and hold onto his bicep. You can put two and two together, intelligent and alert enough to manage that much, and your hand slides over where his palm rests on your chest.

“Like this?” You ask, sliding his hand from the space between your breasts to cupping one of them and he nearly growls feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb dances over your hardened nipple and you gasp, shivering beneath him.

“Bet you never thought you’d end up with somethin’ like me in your apartment,” he taunts, hand tracing down your body, mapping out your stomach and hips. You don’t think much of his words, lost to the sensation of being touched and the heat incinerating all rational thought inside of you, but one word catches your interest and you repeat it.

“Don’t you mean someone?”

Another chuckle shakes his body, his fingers caressing your thigh. He shakes his head where it’s pressed against yours and you can only watch when he licks his lips again just as he did earlier, the motion making your head spin.

“Nah, I’m a somethin’.”

With this, he wants to stop further questioning and he leans in to kiss you. By this point your mind should be catching up, alert and awake, but you aren’t convinced this isn’t some kind of strange horny dream you managed to conjure up so you kiss him back eagerly. The wet sound of lips smacking together in a frenzy fills the room, tongues sliding against one another and you even yelp when he nips at your lower lip, sucking the fullness of it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand that was tracing across your thighs now pushing them open. He paws at your still slick pussy, a thick finger slipping between your lips with little resistance. He revels in the feeling of your hot arousal, smearing it around your hole and rubbing little circles around your clit rather than on it that make you whimper.

“Grimm,” you pant and he only chuckles, a second digit joining the first in spreading your wetness. The pressure of the two fingers makes your hips buck, desperate for more.

“You've been having fun without me? Sure feels like it.”

Puzzled, you wonder what he means until you realize that he can insert a finger inside of you without any resistance, still worked open from your previous attempts to get yourself off. Walls clenching around the single digit, he groans into your ear. Your warmth feels luxurious, like silk. It’s more than he could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t mind,” he continues massaging your walls with his finger in the way only an expert can. You surely must be dreaming, none of your other partners have ever been this skilled with just their fingers, and you let yourself have this moment. What’s the worst that could happen? “Gettin’ this eager little pussy all ready for me is almost too nice of you.”

The words are filthy and they make you whine, hips bucking against his hand and where it rests over the top of your pelvis. You’re greedy, desperate for more. He could do just about anything to you right now and you know that you’d let him, drooling pussy leaking down his finger.

“You want more? Tired of feelin’ so empty?”

The slow rolls of your hips tell him all he needs to know and he uses his free hand to slip out of the sweatpants he wore into your bedroom, cock already hard and leaving a wet spot on the front of them. He rolls his eyes, tossing them aside as fluidly as he can while still keeping you full of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what we both need. Gonna fill this fuckin’ slutty pussy up, give you what you were almost beggin’ me for earlier.”

Ah yes, that. Even dream you can’t escape the embarrassment of his effect on you in the living room but you let the feeling go, instead focusing on how good it feels every time the pad of his finger brushes against the spot deepest inside of you that your own fingers could never reach.

“I want it,” you admit aloud. He smirks, finger withdrawing from you and making you whine. Your body feels as hot as it did hours ago and twice as wound up, clit throbbing from lack of attention. Blood pulses in your ears and you look up, witnessing the way he’s coating his shaft in his own precum with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fill you up just like you need,” he coos, it’s so condescending but you hardly notice, too busy reveling in the way it feels when the fat head of his cock brushes through your folds. You don’t have to think about anything right now and you embrace the feeling, allowing him control.

What he doesn’t mention is that he needs it even more than you do, the maw inside of him demanding that he slip inside of you just like he is now.

He shudders, body tensing as he sheaths himself inside of you in one sharp movement, your breath catching in your throat when his balls slap against your ass. He’s so impossibly deep and despite how wet and opened up you are, your cunt stretches deliciously to accommodate his girth.

Again, this has to be a dream. Nothing in real life could ever feel this good and your toes curl, spread legs shifting to link at the ankles and wrap around his waist. You feel the firmness of his ass against your calves as he grinds into you, the gentleness ending as quickly as it started when he draws his hips back completely and thrusts back inside of you in one swift motion.

Your back arches off of the bed and he drinks in the sight of you, flashes of lightning outside allowing enough light to leak in to give him a good look at everything he has been vying to see. The knot inside of him slowly starts to untangle, his furious pace making your body bounce up the bed and he wonders why he waited this long to just give in.

Perhaps he’s losing his touch after years. He could’ve just snuck in and taken you any evening he wanted to, you wouldn’t be the first he’d done it to given his nearly unquenchable thirst, but he wanted you to want it too. To want him. To give yourself to him.

He chuckles like a wild man, leaning over your body and kissing you again while holding your hips in place to fuck you wildly.

“Takin’ me so well I might have to make you all mine,” he offers and you moan, clenching around him. So you liked that, he takes a note. You like being wanted, you like being taken. He knew it from the moment he saw you but he always loves it when a gut feeling is confirmed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lettin’ an incubus use your pussy whenever he wants like a slut, right?”

Your eyes widen at the word. Incubus - you recall reading some asinine online story about a woman who swore she’d been fucked by one years ago but again, this is your weird dream about your abnormally hot roommate so you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I love it Grimm,” you whisper against his mouth, tongue too heavy to say much else. You’ve never felt like this before, body singing and silky walls clinging to his cock, and you’re ready to let yourself start the endless freefall of pleasure, eyes shutting tightly while he grunts above you.

“That’s right, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?”

Keeping your eyes screwed shut, you only nod and he lets you grind against his pelvis, clit brushing the dusting of blue hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and silky and it’s just what you need, friction spurring you further into bliss as you cum with a shout, eyes shooting open.

This isn’t a dream, you realize suddenly, feeling Grimm’s cock drilling in and out of you at a breakneck pace. You are in your bed, thunder rolling outside, your phone on the bedside table, your body bouncing with every thrust. Your blue haired roommate hovers just above you, face twisted in pleasure while glancing down at where the two of you are joined, the slick sound of your pussy bringing you to reality.

This is really happening and honestly, you just..let it.

Reaching for Grimmjow, you card your fingers through his hair, and he lets his eyes flutter closed. Your fingers dance through the same short hair at the nape of his neck you were admiring hours earlier and he grunts, hips stilling. Using both hands to hold you in place, he fills your eager cunt full of his creamy release and you moan along with him.

Unceremoniously, he slumps forward and your chests touch. You giggle and kiss his forehead, looking down to see him looking far better than he did when he entered your room. His eyes don’t gleam dangerously anymore and the dark circles seem to have sorted themselves out, his face resting on the top of your breast.

“Hey Grimm?”

He looks up, surprised you’re alert enough to even let that much come out of your mouth.

“Everything you said…”

You don’t have to elaborate further, he’s aware of what you’re asking. Is it true? Did he admit what he really is, what the source of his appetite is?

“Yup.”

You don’t ask for further explanation and he doesn’t plan on giving it, content to let you run your fingers through his hair as the storm rages outside.

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #kendall writes #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023 #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw dark content

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circus4apsycho8 · 1 year

Note

Hello! I was wondering if I could request headcanons abt what would ninjas (if possible, could you include Skylor?) be like as your best friend (gn reader)? Thank you!

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘! 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚗𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛!

𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕤: 𝕜𝕒𝕚, 𝕛𝕒𝕪, 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕖, 𝕫𝕒𝕟𝕖, 𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕕, 𝕟𝕪𝕒 & 𝕤𝕜𝕪𝕝𝕠𝕣

𝚔𝚊𝚒

idiots 

you guys FIGHT 

but still love each other 

taunting, playful fighting, lots of competitiveness 

you two always call each other stupid names 

petty to the max 

but at the same time you both are super protective of each other 

despite your fiery friendship, the two of you still know each other well 

will quote vines in fitting circumstances and expect you to finish the reference

he likes doing your hair :)

𝚓𝚊𝚢

nerds

you both take interest in each other’s hobbies

you both will 100% stay up late discussing pop culture lore – whether it’s from a video game, comic book, movie, etc., it doesn’t matter. if it’s interesting, it’s talked about

you love listening to him rant or ramble away, and he’s forever grateful for that

aside from nya, you’re the only person he opens up to about his experience from skybound

ed and edna love you and basically adopt you

nerf battles in the junkyard at 3AM

𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚎

the best hugs <3

big eaters

a very deep relationship

play wrestling

you two read together a lot

he teaches you self-defense

lots of quiet nights together

video games

JUST DANCE. you two are bosses at it and everyone is in absolute awe of your just dance skills

when jay and nya start to learn to dance, you two agree that you both have to show them up no matter the cost

𝚣𝚊𝚗𝚎

there's lots of learning between the two of you, about anything and everything

you're his go-to person for any pop/internet culture questions

lots of reading and quiet moments

you help him set up a date with pixal!! :)

(and almost die of cuteness)

he lets you lean against him when it’s super hot outside

𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚍

candy candy candy candy candy 

S W E E T S 

you two have your own minecraft world together

a favorite activity between the two of you is reading comics together

b l a n k e t f o r t s

pranks...you two are partners in crime

no one trusts either of you when you’re together

he opens up about himself too – the loss of his childhood, his dad, harumi, and about how the pressure of leading often gets to him

during hunted, you're the one who gets him back into shape

you play with his hair when it gets longer :)

𝚗𝚢𝚊

you encouraged her to become samurai x and helped her design the mech & suit

you like painting/putting decorative finishes on her machines/outfits while she does the more technical parts

the two of you love designing decorative weapons and armor together; sometimes, nya even takes you to the blacksmith shop to make a few prototypes

when she gets her powers, the two of you take a liking to swimming together

𝚜𝚔𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛

you help her out with the restaurant quite a bit

in your free time, the two of you like to train together to stay sharp

you both enjoy studying all of the different elements & experimenting with her power too

you also promote her business to others whenever you can :)

sometimes she will task you with making playlists for the restaurant

also, you like doing each other’s hair!!

100% would be down to bury a body for you, no questions asked

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗; 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

#ninjagoxreader #ninjago headcanons #kai x reader #jayxreader #kai smith x reader #jay walker x reader #cole x reader #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookstone x reader #zane x reader #zane julien x reader #skylor x reader #lloyd x reader #lloyd garmadon x reader #nya x reader

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ebonyslasher · 1 year

Text

Spicy Alphabet: Jason Voorhees

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Such a sweetheart. He's eager to clean up after. It's a bit sloppy at first but he gets the hang of it. Tucking you into the bed and laying right beside you when he's done to cuddle. He does everything out of love and necessity. Of course you won't be able to move after THAT session.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's quite proud of his torso, it's a powerhouse. His torso is the one thing he'll allow himself to look happily at in the mirror. Those abs and back muscles were a blessing.

You? He doesn't have one. Everything about you is a blessing from God to him. There hasn't been an inch of your body he's neglected.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This may sound strange, but it depends on your relationship development.

Married? Cream pies oozing out of you every time.

Engaged? Cum shots on different body parts.

Even if you can't physically get pregnant, Jason feels like creampie always equals possible pregnancy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There's nothing dirty about this pure man. How dare you! Until he kills……then he's pretty messy.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced at all. Pretty sure he grew up evangelical Christian. They don't like even kissing until you get married. He's awkward, uncomfortable, and shy.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Let's avoid laughing until he gets super comfortable with sex. He might think you're making fun of him. Once he's more confident in himself, he'll also laugh at the weird sounds and awkward transitions.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair has its own ecosystem. You swear you could discover some new animal species in there. He'll groom if you ask him, or even let you trim him yourself. But if you like the ecosystem, be ready to become an ecologist 🌱

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Exceptionally romantic. There are times where it gets so overwhelming, it makes you cry. That and the incredible orgasms he gives you. Actually, you can't tell which reason made you cry the most.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nah. He will just come to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As long as it's gentle, he's into BDSM elements. Mostly bondage and you dominating him. Big scary guy likes to be put in his place, figuratively, by his small, cute s/o. It helps him unwind from his killing sprees. Once married, he will have the strongest urge for breeding.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

If you are okay with it, on a bed near the lake. The moonlight shines down on you both, exposing the glisten of sweat on skin.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your existence is enough to turn him on. But he gets especially hard when you take charge and take care of him, doting on him like the loving spouse you are.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that will hurt you. Also, anything that he finds degrading for the both of you like; scat, piss play, or spitting

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to give, give, givvvvvvvveeeee!! Oh, you'll be screaming in pleasure when he goes down. His tongue and the amount of saliva he produces makes you feel like you're sitting in his heavenly water.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Scared to go rough, so he's slow and sensual. Later on, he'll allow some rough moments, but they are very quick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Would rather have a full love making session. Quickies remind him of the teens who he kills for having pre-marital sex. There's no love in the action to him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

No. He'll try something new for you. But he has his hard limits.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Although he's a powerhouse, he delivers so much emotion through his movements during lovemaking. He can last 2-3 good rounds before he's tapped out. He needs to emotionally recover.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sex toys? He's neutral. It depends on what it's being used for. He likes using them on you more than on himself. With bondage (and other related items) , he would rather be on the receiving end.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is not unfair! He'll give you what you want. He's a sucker for you 💕.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud. He grunts a lot. Sometimes whimpers.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You were teaching him how to tie knots one day with some colorful rope you ordered. His hands were used as a demonstration. After running through various techniques, you noticed his arousal poking out. That's when you both discovered he likes being tied up.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Anaconda. Not kidding. He's soda can thick, 10.5 inches long. He has a small curve to the left.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Low, on his own. You're the deciding factor on how high his sex drive is. He tries to match you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes he will quickly fall into slumber after caring for you. Other times, he's energized by the session. So he'll go out and check the camp.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #slasher x reader #grown folks business #spicy Alphabet #calling it that cause you know.... Tumblr #also using these are practice to get back into writing #x black reader

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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3201

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, go to the story's masterlist

19. A Courtship

This Chapter: "I want to get to know you, Steve. Really know you. Maybe even the parts that are hard to talk about. Because …” here he pauses, nervous to say it out loud. “Because I think maybe I could. Love you."

Setting up house with Steve is … unexpectedly endearing. Now that the honeymoon is over and they’re back home in New York and regular life is resuming, Bucky learns more about his new husband.

Steve snores sometimes, but only softly and in a way that actually kind of helps Bucky drift off to sleep better himself. Steve does have the occasional nightmare, but Bucky’s been able to wake him quickly enough, the few times that they’ve happened. Steve never seems very eager to talk about it, and Bucky finds that he can relate.

The one time that Bucky asks Steve about the two other spousal bedrooms, Steve gets a hurt look on his face that he tries to hide and tells Bucky that he can have his own separate room, if that’s what he prefers.

Bucky’s a little unsettled by how quickly he says no, just to make that hurt look go away. They continue to share a bed.

Steve takes his work as a Senator seriously, often preferring to have breakfast in his office, where he can read over the day’s briefings before heading out. But once he notices Bucky’s fondness for the morning room, he takes to joining him in there half of the time. Bucky pretends not to notice, while secretly finding it sweet.

Steve works long hours in the city during the week, but more than one afternoon finds him sneaking home to surprise Bucky with a kiss and a request for them to take a stroll together. It’s like they’re courting one another, only after the fact, and Bucky tries not to blush and smile like a dolt each time Steve shows up at noon, requesting one of their walks in Prospect Park.

Half the time they make it to the park. The other half of the time, well …

Bucky pants, still out of breath from what he's just finished doing. Or rather, from what Steve has just finished doing to him. His husband has just climbed back up and laid behind him in their bed. He’s humming lightly and stroking his hands over Bucky’s naked skin. “You liked that,” he says, sounding smug. Bucky looks back over his shoulder at him and gives him an incredulous look. Steve grins. "Yeah you did."

“… Eh,” Bucky feigns, still a little winded from the climax that Steve worked deliciously out of him only seconds ago. “It was nice.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “‘Nice’, huh?” His face, from his chin all the way up to the tip of his nose, is pink and messy with spit. “‘Nice’?”

Bucky tucks his lips in and rolls away again so Steve can’t see him smiling. “Mmhm,” he says. “Yeah. Nice.” There’s a beat of silence, then Steve growls and Bucky gasps as he starts tickling him, hands and fingers dancing over his ribs and stealing his breath away all over again. “Steve! No!” he half-laughs, half yelps. “Ah!”

“‘Nice’,” Steve is still repeating, grin evident in his tone as he attacks him mercilessly. “How’s this for nice then? Hm?”

“Ah! Okay! I’m sorry!” Bucky’s writhing, trying to escape, but Steve is strong and hauls him back in against his body. “It was great!” Bucky nearly shrieks, desperate to get away from the onslaught. “Amazing, the best! Ah!” Satisfied, Steve stops the attack and holds him tightly instead, nipping at his neck. Bucky heaves in his next breath, winded. “Oh, Jesus.”

Steve hums against his neck, a little bit of a pleased growl in the sound. “Brat,” he grumbles. “‘Nice’.”

“You’re a sex god,” Bucky deadpans, halfway expecting another tickle or at least another nip to his neck for the quip, but instead he gets his husband rutting his very evident—and still clothed—erection against his backside. “I—oh,” he says, flushing all over again.

“Mm,” Steve hums in agreement, continuing to rub against him. He moves to hook one of his legs over Bucky’s, but Bucky shirks him off, moving down the bed to get in-between his legs instead.

He grins slyly up at Steve, running his hands over the now-rumpled fabric of his trousers. “You’re gonna have to change before you go back to work,” he says. “Or else everybody’ll know what you’ve been up to.”

Steve’s eyes shine down at him. “Maybe I want them to know.”

Bucky scoffs, liking the idea but knowing that Steve is full of shit—he’d never make such a spectacle of himself. Still, the thought of it is nice. He unbuckles Steve’s belt, then starts in on the fastenings to his fly. “Such impropriety, Senator Rogers,” he scolds, trying his darndest not to let his grin slip back through. “Imagine the scandal that would cause.” He reaches into his underwear, watching Steve’s expression as his fingers find his cock. “Mm. People would talk for days.”

“Weeks,” Steve gasps, face going pink alarmingly fast as Bucky strokes him. “Oh, Buck.”

“What about me, huh? If I went out looking like this. Out on our walk.” Steve shivers, and Bucky thrills a little at how the other man’s eyes track up and down his body, full of lust as he imagines it. “Yeah,” Bucky encourages, rubbing his thumb under the head of Steve’s cock where he’s leaking, spreading the moisture around. “After this I could just throw my clothes back on, maybe not even do everything all the way up. Leave something unbuttoned, or untucked.” He squeezes and wrings his hand downwards, making Steve grunt. “I’d be so sloppy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whispers, and Bucky knows him well enough now to know when his husband is getting close to coming sooner than he’d like. “Bucky, Bucky wait. Oh, Honey. S-slow down.”

He climbs further up the bed, laying himself out atop Steve’s bulk. He doesn’t slow down by much, but a little. He starts mouthing at Steve’s lips, licking him and tasting, teasing him with the promise of his mouth more than a proper kiss. “My hair’d be all messed up,” he whispers. “And my lips’d be all red and … and swollen—”

Steve surges up and connects their mouths in a fierce kiss, his big hands holding Bucky’s head so that he can’t pull away. Bucky moans at the dominance of it, and Steve pulls back just enough to husk at him, “What would make ‘em so swollen, huh Baby? You gonna show me?”

Bucky’s never been more eager to demonstrate his meaning. He moans, still turned on even though he’s just had his own release. He mashes their mouths together again before nodding desperately against Steve’s face and pulling away, moving down his body to get back between his legs. Steve curses and shoves his pants and underwear down just enough to bear himself. Bucky’s instantly wrapping his hand back around him, stroking the hot, reddened length of his cock and rubbing his cheek against it. “Fuck, Steve,” he breathes, sucking at the glans and working his hand against the plump skin of his knot. “God, so perfect.”

“Put it in your mouth,” Steve growls, and the Voiced command is so strong, so needy and so alpha that Bucky can’t do anything but obey. He opens wide and sinks down on Steve’s cock in one go, moaning like a whore as he does so.

… and that is the exact moment that the door to their bedroom opens and a maid comes bustling in with an armload of linens.

It takes a good long while for Steve to calm the maid down and convince her that she is not going to be fired for walking in on them.

“Gertie please, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m not angry.”

Bucky’s loitering by the edge of the room, desperate to extricate himself from this poor woman’s—girl’s, because Christ, she’s probably no older than Bucky himself—presence. Steve manages to convince the mortified Gertrude that she’s done nothing wrong and that all will be forgotten (Bucky would argue against that latter point), and then he sends her home for the day.

Bucky sort of grimaces politely at her as she passes and leaves the room, his face still feeling like it’s on fire. “Christ,” he mutters when she’s gone and it’s just the two of them again. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Steve tuts and walks over. “It’ll be alright. We’re married men. She only saw us doing what Spouses do.”

Bucky glares at him. “Oh sure. You’re not the one who got caught moaning like a whore with a cock halfway down your throat.”

Steve winces and draws Bucky in against his chest. “It’ll be fine.”

“Servants gossip,” Bucky pouts. “They’ll all know by tomorrow.”

“Honey …” Steve hedges, as if he isn’t sure he should say what comes next: “We are married, and we’ve been living here for nearly a month, now. Anyone in our employ would know that you and I are intimate together.”

Bucky pulls back, incensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” When Steve just looks apologetic, Bucky pokes him in the chest. “Are you saying I’m loud, or something?”

“No! No that’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m sure we both are at times, but even still—”

“Oh great!” Bucky huffs, put out. “So all of our servants think I’m a great big floozie!”

Steve’s lips quirk. “A ‘floozie’?” Bucky pokes him again and tells him to shut up, and that just makes him laugh more. He kisses Bucky on the nose and once on each cheek, then moves down to his jaw and neck. He keeps it up, peppering kisses and reassuring Bucky that nobody thinks he’s the ‘great whore of Brooklyn’, until he gets the younger man to calm down. “So,” he says when he pulls back. He’s looking kindly at him in a way that makes it near impossible for Bucky to continue on with his pouting. “Are we still going for our walk?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know.” In truth, he had been looking forward to it. But now he’s feeling oddly clingy and kind of just wants to keep Steve to himself for the time being. He presses his face into Steve’s neck and inhales his scent. “Can we just stay here? Eat in our room? In private?”

Steve hums and hugs him tightly, kissing his hair. “Sure, Honey. I’ll have our lunch brought up.” When Bucky pulls back and glares at him, he laughs and promises to give the servants strict instructions to knock and leave the trays outside the bedroom door.

Domestic life only holds its appeal for so long. Eventually, watching Steve leave to go work on interesting and important matters each day, while Bucky himself is left to dawdle at home and argue with Sharon about the aesthetics of the curtains or whatever else, grows old. He still kisses Steve sweetly goodbye when the alpha leaves their breakfast table and heads off into the city each morning, but slowly but surely, Bucky grows restless.

That’s how he finds his way back into the property’s garage one afternoon, having dodged Sharon’s questions about the guest list for some dinner party they’re apparently supposed to host soon. Bucky’s far more interested in tinkering with the motorbike he finds behind a bunch of rubbish. It’s seen its better days, that much is obvious as soon as he yanks the dusty tarp off of it. He recovers from a brief coughing fit triggered by the dirt and tosses the tarp aside with a curious grin. “Huh,” he says, running his hands over the cracked leather seat. This could be fun.

That night at dinner, he asks Steve about it. “There’s an old motorbike in the carriage house,” he says conversationally. “Who’s is it?”

Steve looks taken aback. “… Oh,” he says. “Is that out there?” Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Steve supplies, “It was mine.”

“Really?” Somehow, Bucky has a hard time picturing Steve zipping around on the thing. “I’m surprised. It’s not exactly a mode of transportation for the genteel.” Bucky's intrigued.

“Believe it or not. I used to consider myself somewhat of a rebel, I suppose." He hesitates. "Before my service.”

Before the war, goes unsaid, but Bucky hears it all the same. Not for the first time, he wonders if Steve had been such a consummate adult before he went off to war. He wants to ask about it, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Steve sobers and says,

“Don’t have much use for the thing now. I didn’t even know we still had it.”

“Jarvis said it came with the move. It’s kind of broken.”

“Mm.” Steve doesn’t seem keen on discussing it. “It’s not very safe. I’ll have him scrap it.”

“No!”

Steve pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “No?”

“I was thinking I’d work on it,” Bucky says. “As a project.”

“It’s a piece of junk,” Steve says. “I don’t even think it runs.”

Bucky tries hard not to roll his eyes. “Hence the ‘working on it’.”

“I didn’t know you were handy like that,” Steve says, managing to make it a question. His eyes flick to Bucky’s left hand, and Bucky scowls as he notices.

“Yeah, I am,” he says. “I can still do some things, Steve. I’m not completely useless.”

“I didn’t say that!”

He stabs another bite of his dinner, stuffing it in his mouth and chewing. “Sick and tired of sitting around here with nothing to do,” he grumbles. “You get to go off and be important every day and I’m stuck here."

Steve looks pained. “I’m sorry it’s so boring for you.”

“Hmph.” Bucky knew what he was getting into when he married Steve, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Being your housewife isn’t exactly my cup of tea,” he grunts.

“Hey.” Steve reaches across the table and takes his hand. He gives it a light squeeze. “I told you I don’t expect that.”

“Well Sharon sure does,” Bucky grumbles. “Yesterday she had me picking out window dressings.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Steve says, and Bucky can’t help but be grateful to him for that.

Steve releases his hand, and Bucky draws it in toward himself, feeling sheepish for having complained. “Thanks.” Silence stretches out between them for a long moment, before Bucky dares to ask, “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“… What was it like? The war?”

Steve tenses, and all his attention shifts back to Bucky in a very loaded way. “I don’t like to talk about it,” he says quietly. “Usually.”

Bucky bites his lip. “I know. But sometimes I get the feeling that it’s something I should ask about.” He takes a chance and reaches over the table like Steve had done, taking the alpha’s hand in his. Steve’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away. Bucky tries to offer him a reassuring look. “You said you loved me, the other day.”

Slowly, Steve nods. “Yes. I did.”

Bucky swallows as he feels heat creep up his face. “I … I can’t say that back to you. Not yet.”

“Bucky, I don’t expect—”

“No, let me finish,” he says quickly. He forces himself to meet Steve’s gaze head on. “Look, trying to get you to divorce me was my only plan while we were in Europe.” Steve rolls his eyes and Bucky forges ahead, “I didn’t consider the alternative: that this could actually work, or that I could be happy with you.”

Steve’s expression pinches. “Buck,”

“But now I have considered it. And, well, I want to get to know you, Steve. Really know you. Maybe even the parts that are hard to talk about. Because …” here he pauses, nervous to put to words what he’s been thinking since they set up house in New York together. “Because I think maybe I could. Love you. I just need more, though. More time, and ...” he huffs, embarrassed at having admitted his feelings. “... Just, more.” The next time he dares to look up and meet Steve’s eyes, the man is practically beaming at him. Bucky chuckles self-consciously. “Come on now, don’t get all—”

Steve squeezes his hand. “Buck,” he entreats. “That makes me so happy. You know I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy. And I do love you, and you don’t have to say it back. Not ever, if it’s not what you feel. But—”

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky chuckles, embarrassed by how darned happy his words have made Steve. “Calm down. I just meant that I wanted to get to know you better. Really know you., ya know?”

"Yeah. I want that too, Buck."

“So, will you tell me? About your service? About the war?”

Steve doesn't look enthused bout it, but he doesn’t look like he’s closing himself off anymore, either. “I'd always wanted to join the service, back when I was younger.”

“Course you did.”

“Hey, don’t make fun.” He smirks. “I was overeager, yeah. Got my rank right out of the gates at eighteen and didn’t think anything of it. Not until we went to war a few years later.”

Bucky peers at him, noting the tense lines around his mouth. “Was it very horrible?”

“Not at first. But the conflict went on for too long, and then it became ..." he falters, frowning. "We shouldn’t have been down there. In Mexico. The fighting got bad fast.”

“You had to kill people,” Bucky says, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Steve is staring at his plate, clearly remembering. “War is … it’s not noble. It’s not brave, either. It’s just a lot of ugly and dirty and mean.” He shakes his head. “I didn't learn that until I was already locked-in to an officer's commission. I had to follow orders, even though it wasn’t at all what I’d envisioned, or what I wanted to do for my country.” He looks across the table at Bucky, and the guilt in his eyes is heartbreaking to see. “I knew I was a good person, up until then. And after, well …” He shrugs. “After I came home, I wasn’t so sure anymore.”

A small, upset noise catches in Bucky's throat. “Steve, you are good.”

“I had to follow orders, Bucky,” Steve says sternly, and for the first time it feels like they're back to arguing “Some of them were wrong, but I followed them anyway. I was a good soldier, and a bad person.”

“Steve,”

He shakes his head, clearly wanting to put the topic to rest. “It’s over now. I’m a civilian again and I like it that way.”

“People still call you Captain,” Bucky says quietly.

“Yeah, they do. A formality.” Steve meets his eyes. “Having a normal life with you, having a husband and a home and an omega and children one day; it’s all I want now. And my time in the service is a big part of why. I tried doing something extraordinary, and all it did was give me nightmares.”

Bucky suddenly thinks he understands a lot more about why Steve was so quick to form an attachment to him and their marriage. “I get it,” he says. “Makes sense.”

Steve nods, seemingly done with discussing the topic. After a pause, he admits, “I hate talking about it, and I’m hoping you won’t ask much more. But ... I’m glad you wanted to ask. If that makes any sense.”

Bucky smiles softly. “Yeah. It does.”

They finish eating their dinner together in heavy yet companionable silence, and for the first time in their marriage, Bucky feels almost like an equal to Steve.

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goldenteaset · 4 months

Text

Found an adorable picrew recently!

Here's Vash and Rose~

Legato and Doll~

And Belial and Camomile~

#F/O: Some Chick's Boytoy #F/O: Is this Love's own element?#F/O: Look Into The Abyss of His Heart #yumejoshi #proship selfship

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lucy90712 · 1 year

Text

Pedri- Fluff alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about their partner?)

Physically Pedri loves your smile. Your smile was the first thing he noticed about you and it's what made him begin to fall for you. He always says that your smile lights up a room which isn't true but he likes to believe it is. Whenever he is having a bad day all he needs is to come home and be greeted by your smile for him to already feel slightly better. He makes it his life mission to keep you smiling as he hates seeing you without the smile that makes his day.

Personality wise Pedri loves how determined you are. Whenever you have a goal you will do whatever it takes to achieve it even if it involves many days of hard work and Pedri admires that about you. He is also a very determined person so when he sees you working so hard it motivates him even more to work towards his own goals. He loves seeing you achieve your goals too as it always makes you extra happy and he gets to see more of the smile he loves.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Family is everything to Pedri so of course he wants to start his own family with you in the future because he wants to have his own children to bond and create memories with. As much as he wants kids he knows that you are both too young to start a family now as you have many more things to do just the two of you before expanding your family. Despite that he still thinks about having kids quite a lot especially when you go and visit family who have kids all he can do is picture the two of you playing with your child one day. No matter how much he wants kids he will wait for you to be ready as he knows that it's a big decision for you.

C = Cuddle (How do they like to cuddle?)

Pedri isn't the most cuddly person but you have managed to convert him and now he likes to cuddle with you but he will never tell anyone that. Until he met you he thought cuddling was overrated and just kind of boring but once you convinced him to cuddle with you he realised he actually really liked it. His favourite way to cuddle is to have you laying on his chest as he can have his arms wrapped tightly around you so he feels as though he is protecting you. Cuddling with you relaxes him like he never thought it would and many times you have both fallen asleep cuddling on the sofa which has become Pedri's guilty pleasure.

D = Dreams (How do they picture their future with their S/O?)

He always pictures having a surprisingly normal life with you. Of course your life will never be that normal because he still wants to be playing football with Barcelona but every other element of your lives together he wants to be as normal as possible. He often thinks about the simple things such as nights on the sofa going from being just the two of you to your future family all sitting together with a film on. Even things like buying your forever home and decorating it together to make it your own take over his dreams instead of ideas of winning champions league trophies or world cups he always thinks about moments with you being his future.

E = Emotions (How do they express their emotions around you?)

Pedri is usually pretty good about expressing his emotions as he tells you everything which includes anything that is bothering him. He's not one to get overly angry very often he's just a very calm person so you never worry about him shouting at you after he has a bad day as he just doesn't do that. The one thing he can do is bottle up his stress sometimes when there's a lot going on he can just shut down and not tell you about how he's feeling but eventually he will break down and tell you everything. Those times pretty much always end with the both of you crying together but afterwards you both feel so much better and the Pedri you are used to has come back.

F = Feelings (When did they know they're in love?)

It took Pedri a little while to realise he was in love with you. He had completely fallen for you a while before he realised it because he had never felt like that for anyone else before so he tried to push away his feelings as he was scared of getting hurt. When he did realise he was in love with you it wasn't because of some big gesture or anything out of the ordinary. It happened one day when he came over to your place one evening after a late training session and when he arrived you got up from your position on the sofa to greet him with a smile and a hug straight away. Just you greeting him with a hug made him realise how deeply in love with you he was as in that moment he couldn't even imagine having that small interaction with anyone else other than you.

G = Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their S/O does for them?)

He couldn't be more grateful for you. He knows that you sacrifice a lot for him as there has been a few occasions where you could've moved away from Barcelona for school or for a better job but you chose to stay to be with him. He also knows that you would do anything for him even if it meant moving cities for him to further his career and he really appreciates that. It's not just the big things he appreciates he is always thanking you for the little things you do for him even if it is just you making dinner for the two of you he will always make sure you know he appreciates it. Pedri is very aware of how much you do for him and he knows that without you he would be a mess so he is very grateful and he makes sure that you know that at all times.

H = Honesty (Do they have secrets they hide from their S/O?)

He would never hide anything big from you as he knows that as soon as either of you start keeping secrets of each other it will be the end of your relationship. Pedri is a big believer in communication being the most important part of a relationship so he doesn't keep things from you and will even tell you if he's had offers from other football clubs even if he doesn't plan to leave Barcelona as he thinks you should know. That being said there are a few things he keeps from you to protect you. There has been a few times that there has been rumours about certain things in the media which he has kept from you to make your life less stressful and he doesn't tell you what other players have said about you on the pitch when angry as he doesn't want you to ever hear things like that. The only other time he keeps a secret from you is when he's going to propose but it was very difficult for him to hide.

I = Injury (How would they react if you got hurt?)

As soon as you even whisper the word ouch he is by your side and checking that you are ok. Even if you have only stubbed your toe he will carry you to either the sofa or your bed and do things for you for the next few hours all while checking on you even though you say you are ok. If you were to cut your finger while chopping vegetables he treats it as if you are going to bleed to death and will bandage you up with the most ridiculous bandage that is way more than necessary. If you ever get any bigger injuries like a sprained ankle he will do everything for you so that you don't make the injury worse and he will make sure you follow all of your doctors instructions to speed up your recovery. He worries about you a lot so any time you are hurt he only worries about you more but that's just because he wants you to be fit and healthy.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous? How do they deal with it)

Pedri doesn't get jealous very often as he knows that you would never do anything with anyone else even if they approached you and started to flirt. It also helps that when you go out it's often with him so he knows what's going on and if you aren't with him it's generally to go to dinner with your friends who he trusts to keep you safe. However there has been a few occasions when he has got jealous but it's all because of how other guys act around you. One night you joined him and the team to celebrate a win and there was a guy who just wouldn't leave you alone. He tried to dance with you and buy you drinks which made Pedri jealous as that's what he should be doing. Instead of confronting the guy he just sticks by your side and dances with you a bit more suggestively than he usually would just to get his point across. That's as far as he goes he never takes his jealousy out on you and as soon as the person he's jealous of gets the hint he usually feels a lot better.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss you? How do they like to be kissed?)

Pedri loves giving you kisses. At the end of the day he will often press kisses all over your face until your cheeks are red from blushing and then he will always press two last kisses to your red cheeks. His absolute favourite place to kiss you is your forehead as it lines up perfectly with his lips so whenever you give him a hug he can kiss your forehead. He also likes forehead kisses as he can give you them in public without it looking like too much but the two do you know that it's his way of showing affection. Pedri likes when you kiss his cheek as for some reason it makes him blush every time but he still loves it. He especially loves it when you have lipstick on and leave a mark on his cheek when you kiss him in fact that's how he made your relationship public by posting a picture with your lipstick mark on his cheek. Pedri loves any kiss you give him though as he just loves you.

L = Love (Who says 'I love you' first?)

He says it first but only because it just slipped out on accident. He had known he loved you for a while but he wasn't ready to say it yet because he was worried that you wouldn't be ready to hear it and he'd scare you off. Eventually it got to the point where he was really considering saying those 3 words and just hoping you felt the same but everytime he got close he stopped himself and chickened out. One night he was again thinking about saying it while the two of you were having a chill evening in and like always he expected he would stop himself at the last second but this time those fateful 3 words actually left his mouth. He seemed just as surprised as you to begin with but when a smile started to spread across your face he repeated the words more confidently this time. Of course you said them right back and for the rest of the night he wouldn't stop telling you he loved you as he wanted to make up for all the time he'd put off saying it.

M = Memory (What's their favorite memory together?)

His favourite memory is from the first time you went to Tenerife with him. While there he got to show you where he used to live and more importantly where he used to play football which you loved to see as it just shows how far he has come. That wasn't his favourite memory from the trip though his absolute favourite memory is from when you got to meet his extended family. You had met his parents and brother before and spent a lot of time with them but you had yet to meet his grandparents. Naturally you were incredibly nervous but as soon as you both arrived you settled in straight away and instantly you became one of the family. Pedri loved watching you get on so well with his family and it was made even better when his grandma told him how much she loved you as on many occasions she hasn't like new partners that she has been introduced to. That day will always be special to him as it meant a lot that you were so happy and comfortable around his entire family.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

He would love to spoil you but a lot of the time you don't let him. If it was up to Pedri he would always be buying you things not necessarily expensive things but just little things he thinks you would like but you are always telling him not to spend his hard earned money on you. You can't stop him all the time though as he will still come home with your favourite snacks for you or other things he sees which makes him think of you. On your birthday and Christmas there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop him spoiling you as much as he wants to as even if you tell him not to get you anything he will do the exact opposite. Pretty much all of the expensive things you own were brought by him such as your laptop and even your car which he got to match his as he loved the idea of both of you having little green minis. To him buying you things is just part of the relationship and he loves to do it even if you protest because ultimately he loves to see how happy and grateful you are for everything he gets you.

O = On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they're in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?)

When Pedri is in love it's not noticeable to everyone but those who know him well can tell there is something up with him. He is more quiet than usual as instead of talking he is thinking about you which isn't like Pedri as he's always one to have a conversation with his teammates before and after training. Gavi is the first one to point out how differently Pedri is acting and when Pedri finally gives in and tells him about you Gavi definitely makes fun of him for a while. When people actually know about the two of you he returns to his normal self the only difference is he is always talking about you and what the two of you got up to the day before. Talking about you is how everyone knows that he is truly in love with you as any other past fling barely got a mention but you are always a topic of conversation.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Pedri doesn't have too many pet names for you he mostly just uses a shortened version of your name or any nickname that you have. He does use a few basic pet names he uses for you such as babe or baby but his go to is amor as it's easy to say and he likes the meaning.

Q = Questions (What are the questions they're always asking?)

He is always asking if you are ok. When we he sees you it's the first thing he asks and even when he's away and he texts or calls it's the first thing he asks. He just likes to know that you are alright as if there is something wrong he wants to do everything he can to fix it. Another question he asks a lot is if you will be able to make it to his games as he knows you have a busy schedule and he doesn't like to just assume you will be there even though you pretty much always are.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

On a rainy day Pedri still likes to make the most of the time he has with you so you will still be doing something for most of the day. Often the two of you will bake together as you love to do it and he likes learning recipes from you so he can make them for you one day. You always end up making a mess of the kitchen but that's part of the fun plus then you get to listen to music together while cleaning up. The two of you also always play games on rainy days and that can be card games like uno or video games like fifa which he has taught you to play. He pretty much always wins but you don't mind as he's incredibly competitive and hates losing anyway. Whenever it's rainy he like to make his favourite food for dinner but he never allows you to help as he takes it as an opportunity to do something for you.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/S/O up?)

To cheer himself up he likes to spend time with you as you always know exactly how to make him feel better no matter what is wrong. Just being in your company makes Pedri feel better but he especially likes when he lays with his head in your lap and you play with his hair he just finds it really relaxing. When you are feeling sad Pedri will do anything to make you feel better because he hates it when you aren't your usual happy self. If you don't want to talk about what's bothering you then he will just cuddle you until you are feeling happier. He will also get your your favourite snacks and put on your favourite film even if you've watched it a million times. Sometimes you just need to be distracted from what's upsetting you so he will get you either go on a walk or a drive with him just to get your mind off stuff which are always fun and definitely work for cheering you up.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Pedri will talk about anything and everything. It may not seem like it but he loves to talk so he will always find something to talk about with you. Football is often a topic of conversation but he also likes to talk about your work or school with you as even though he might not understand everything he likes to learn about what you do. Both of your goals are also a topic of conversation as you like to hold each other accountable so often check in on the progress you have made towards the targets you have set for yourself.

U = Understanding (How well do they know their partner?)

Pedri knows you like the back of his hand. There are times that he knows exactly what you are thinking before you say it so he definitely knows you very well. It took him a while to get to know you so well but it was so worth it as it has made your relationship so much stronger as you two know exactly what is going on with each other at all times. It often surprises people how much you guys are on the same wavelength but Pedri loves it as he thinks it shows how much effort you both put in to truly get to know each other. Pedri knowing you so well has been very helpful on some occasions as you can get anxious sometimes and he can always tell when something isn't right and will get you out of the situation and help you calm down without you having to say a word.

V = Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

Your relationship is very important to Pedri. Of course his career is important to him but the most important thing in Pedri's life is his family and he considers your relationship to be just as important as family. Over time you have become part of the family and are always invited to family events so to Pedri you are just as important as any other family member. Without you Pedri wouldn't know what to do with himself so you definitely play an important part in his life.

W = Wedding (When, where, and how do they propose?)

Pedri would wait quite a while to propose and it's not because he isn't sure if he wants to marry you it's because he wants to make the proposal perfect and he wants to make sure that he can give you the wedding of your dreams. When the time does come it's during the off season not long after your 5th anniversary. He took you away on holiday to somewhere where you had access to a private beach which you definitely made the most of in the time that you spent there. Pedri planned to propose on your first day there but he got so nervous that he didn't do it until a few days into the holiday. Like everyday before that you were sat out in the beach watching the sun set when Pedri has a surge of confidence and got the ring out of his pocket and got on one knee behind you. He gently taps your shoulder to get your attention before starting a small speech about how much he loves you and then he asks the question. Of course you say yes and for the rest of the holiday the both of you are on cloud 9.

X = XOXO (How affectionate are they? In public/in private)

Pedri isn't one for public affection as he knows that there will always be someone to record anything he does especially if you are with him. He will always hold your hand when you are out together but usually that's as far as he will go. If you are just around friends he will happily have an arm around your waist and press the odd kiss to your forehead or cheek but he would never do that if he knew other people could see you. In private he is the exact opposite sometimes you can't escape affection from him but honestly you don't even try as who would say no to Pedri. When it's just the two of you he loves to give you kisses and cuddle with you as there is no one else there to watch and make fun of him for being a so smitten even though he definitely is.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when they're separated from their S/O?)

He hates to be away from you as his favourite part of the day is getting to see you but it isn't often that he has to worry about it as he brings you everywhere with him. You always go to away matches with him and when he has training camps over the summer you often join him on those as well. Of course there are times that you just can't go with him but Pedri always hates it and has to call you at the end of the day and text you constantly throughout the day as it helps him feel like you are there with him. Pedri always prefers to have you by his side but when he has to he can cope without you as when you reunite it always feels extra good to have you in his arms.

Z = Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship?)

Pedri would do anything for your relationship he wouldn't tell you that but he's willing to make big sacrifices if it means keeping you as you mean more to him than anything else in the world. There is a never ending list of things Pedri would do for relationship and that's all because he knows you would do the same.

#pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagines #pedri gonzalez imagines #pedri imagine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Text

quotation mark, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: For Min Yoongi, there are no wasted words. He knows what he wants to say and he know what he says will give him what he wants. But, then again, sometimes you don't have to say anything to orchestrate everything. Jeon Jungkook? He won't submit to that. He's the one in charge here. Right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! reader reflects on her attempted suicide; descriptions of explicit D/s relationship; tension between the doms Yoongi can't keep his BDE to himself; very intense smut (fem reader, a lot of fantasizing, making out / fingering in an elevator, voyeurism, restraints, hair pulling, m/f choking, finger sucking, f and m-receiving oral, triple(?) penetration (pussy and anal fingering), edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, nipple play, spanking, anal sex); shifting POVs between Yoongi, Jungkook, and you; non-idol!AU; rich heir to a hotel chain, dom!Yoongi x tattooed, sub!reader x tattoo artist, dom!Jungkook

happy new year ;)

"It's nice. I like it."

He reached over and placed his thumb into that pink lower lip. Pressed down, tilting his head. The silver ring on the right side of that mouth gleamed under the crystal lights. Punctured into the flesh, decorating it.

"Pretty."

A tattooed hand shot up. Min Yoongi caught it out of the air by the wrist, tightening his fingers against tense muscle and black ink. Shifted his gaze, staring into dark brown eyes burning with resistance. Trying to intimidate him. Instead of retreating, Yoongi hooked his nail into the lip ring and toyed with it.

Jeon Jungkook clenched his jaw, his brows furrowing.

He could tell the younger man was trying not to make a single sound as he rubbed the pad of his finger against the curved metal and the edge of Jungkook's lips. He leaned forward, and Jungkook stiffened, still giving him the look of a cornered wolf about to fight back regardless of consequence. He did not balk. Closer, and he could smell the clean scent Jungkook usually wore, plain made exquisite by the chemistry of his skin.

"This lesson is," Yoongi murmured slowly, staring into those burning eyes. "Anything on your person can be turned into an object for pleasure."

He flicked the lip ring.

Heard Jungkook swallow his own gasp.

Heavy breath.

"Let... Let go of me," Jungkook growled.

Yoongi smiled.

He let go of him.

"Now, your fitting. We will be adjusting a suit of mine I've worn before."

Jungkook frowned, lowering his hand. The array of wooden bead bracelets made a clicking sound as he adjusted his left wrist, moving it away from his thigh. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans, his black quilted bomber thrown against the armrest. Yoongi noticed the top was more fitted than his usual loose style. Perhaps to look less sloppy in a room of such opulence. Noted. Jungkook also did not touch his face after the shared moment. The fingers of his right hand twitched, then stilled, carefully placed by his side. Ah, also noted.

"I'm not a suit-wearing kind of guy," he mumbled.

"You are welcome to wear whatever you like, although I can't promise you won't be dragged off the premises and then you would miss out on all the lovely wine. But don’t worry, I’m sure I can satisfy our pet on my own if you want to back out."

Jungkook glared at him.

Yoongi smirked.

"I didn't say I wouldn't wear it. I just said I'm not a suit-wearing kind of guy."

"Hm." Yoongi loosely gestured to the rack of designer suits next to his seat. "Pick one. Then we'll do measurements."

Jungkook stood up, looking over them, lost but trying not to show it. Yoongi remained seated on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, waiting. Although out of his element, Jungkook was a curious one and was not intimidated by what was offered.

"You wear all of these?" he asked doubtfully, his tone echoing the confusion of one that did not understand how somebody could willingly tolerate wearing designer formalwear.

"Most of them. These are primarily for events of some importance, so they've been taken in but still have the original seams. You have a slightly larger frame than I do, so I suspect we will have to adjust for that."

The younger male stood in front of the rack, staring at the expensive suits that probably cost more than the rent of both his home and his tattoo shop. "Who is doing the measurements?"

Yoongi stayed silent.

Tick.

The head of black hair turned. Dark brown eyes narrowing. Looking down at him, mouth thinned to a stem frown. Angular jaw tensing, the mole underneath that frown shivering so faintly that Yoongi almost missed it.

Tock.

Yoongi let himself smile.

No longer hiding the enjoyment he was getting from these reactions.

“The tailor waiting outside the room,” he purred back to that fierce gaze.

Jungkook didn't respond for a moment.

Then he turned and stuck his hand into the rack of suits, pushing them to one side, revealing his selection of a pinstriped suit.

You almost laughed out loud at the photo of Jungkook that Yoongi had sent with no caption. Arms splayed out, looking highly uncomfortable as a distinguished-looking older gentleman in a three-piece suit was measuring his waist. The younger man looked like an alarmingly handsome scarecrow except he was the one that seemed the most frightened. You managed to contain yourself, however, for you were still at work. You shouldn’t be on your phone, but you know.

Rules were meant to be broken.

Also, this was a rare occasion for Yoongi. To text anything, much less a photo.

What for? You typed back, then quickly slid your device under some papers, managing to look busy for a timed five minutes. Definitely enough for Yoongi to respond and, if he didn’t, then he wouldn’t respond at all.

You tapped your phone screen, sneaking a glance.

For my amusement.

You saw your boss come out the office from the corner of your eye, so you quickly slipped your phone into your desk drawer and let it be, enjoying in the chills that danced up your spine from that reply. The older gentleman had been taking a waist measurement, so he was mostly likely a tailor. Specialized in men’s formalwear, seemed like, from his attire. Yoongi was a man of opportunity and foresight. For my amusement. Meaning it was more than just the suit Yoongi was giving. Or getting out of it.

Ah.

Ahhh.

You hummed cheerfully as you continued your work, letting Yoongi explore the possibilities of what could be to his heart’s content. It would be good. You trusted his judgement.

After all, you wouldn’t be his submissive if you didn’t.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t sure how to feel about Min Yoongi.

It didn’t feel like he was flaunting. Sure, the building in the high-end district, the designer clothes, and all that shit, but it didn’t seem like a charade. Simply everyday life for the hotel heir. Yoongi handled all the speaking with the tailor. Nobody questioned why he was giving away one of his suits. Nobody asked who Jungkook was or why he was there even though he was clearly out of place in such a fancy establishment. He found himself staying silent as Yoongi commanded the room. He said Jungkook was free to go after the tailor had everything he needed. He would handle the rest and have everything delivered to the tattoo shop at the end of this week.

Now, Jungkook was standing on the public train, somewhat bothered by this level of distance.

Not that he wanted to hang out with his hyung or anything.

That would be weird.

Min Yoongi probably never took the train. He was probably chauffeured everywhere. Accompanied by bodyguards, because he was a rich man who never let the soles of his shoes touch filth. Or something like that.

For some reason, Jungkook twitched, suddenly feeling guilty about thinking that.

Then he remembered those cat-like eyes inspecting him.

Calling his lip piercing pretty.

He clenched his jaw, his tongue flickering over said silver ring, looking for the reassurance of metal. Kept his breathing even, staring out the window at the passing skyline and lowering sun, but not seeing them, instead remembering a dark room and a mirror. His own reflection looking back at him with a pale hand around his throat.

Jungkook recalled that, at the time, he couldn’t look into his own eyes so he watched the movement of Yoongi’s fingers instead.

Do you feel it?

How did he do that?

There was something impressive about how swiftly Min Yoongi could shift from simply being part of the shadows to forcing everyone to acknowledge that he was the most important person in the room. Jungkook knew that wasn’t who he was. He was loud and brash in presence when he wanted to be and, when he didn’t want to be, he tended to escape. He didn’t know how to seize the atmosphere. And the way Yoongi did it, not like a dictator or a tyrant, but like he was the master conductor and you were the orchestra. Like he knew you and him could make beautiful art together. He made you want to live up to his art.

It made Jungkook feel…

Weird.

He felt as if he should feel threatened. A clearly more experienced, disgustingly wealthy, and, fuck it, actually unnervingly handsome dom that he was sharing his…

Well, his…

Jungkook scrunched up his face, seeing his own reflection in the glass as the train entered a tunnel. His customer, his sub, his lover, whatever anyone wanted to call it, but to him you were his irreplaceable. That was frightening to think about, but he was too stubborn to unthink it. The idea of someone else having your taste on their lips, ugh, Jungkook hated it, he would kill–

The abrupt image of Yoongi lifting his head from your legs, shapely pink lips and chin smeared with your juices, glistening and glossy over an open-mouthed smirk.

His fingers gripped the metal train pole tightly and Jungkook felt his whole body go rigid.

A wildfire of arousal shot through him.

Yeah.

That was weird.

Jungkook furrowed his brow, ignoring everything around him except the image in his head and keeping an eye on the map to see how far away he was from his stop. He could faintly see from his peripheral vision that people were staying away from him. Probably because of his tattoos. He caught his expression in the window again.

Oh.

Or his pissed-off looking expression.

Sure, Jungkook had fucked you and Yoongi had been there, and vice versa. But that particular image hadn’t happened. Yet. It wouldn’t be too out-of-the-ordinary if it did happen. But Yoongi generally kept his distance, patiently waiting for his turn. Watching Jungkook, of course, but not interfering too much other than providing that smug expression. So far, anyway. Yoongi did not specifically direct his attention that Jungkook that often. And he wasn’t going to. Wasn’t going to bring his face close to Jungkook’s and breathe onto his lips, inhale stained with your heavy, sweet-sour taste.

Hold up.

Jungkook frowned.

His hyung’s face close to his, smearing your release on his cheek, whispering to him, taste it, low and husky. A voice that reminded him of midnights and moonlight. Chills all over his body, wildfire burning within. His tongue snaking out over his lip ring and licking the side of his mouth, your taste from Yoongi’s skin. Sharing it. Those feline eyes watching him with satisfaction as he did.

No.

That never happened.

But it could.

In that moment, Jungkook realized he was fantasizing about Min Yoongi on the public train and, even though it was not quite directly sexual in nature, it was strangely still too intimate even for two men who belonged to the same woman.

Right?

There was no one to ask.

Jungkook got off at his stop and walked home.

"Meant to be appreciated. Full-bodied. Robust. A sting from the unique flavor that soothes out into an elegant calm."

Min Yoongi did not give a single shit.

His interest in this conversation was already minimal and dwindling ever faster. It had nothing to do with the excellent wine and everything to do with the vapid commentary of the pompous old man that was attempting to sound clever describe it. Yoongi appreciated luxury. How could he not? He was the definition of born with a silver spoon. But he detested idiocy and unfortunately being rich did not spare him from that.

Often, quite the opposite.

He glanced at his glass of dark red.

Thought about pouring it all over wrists bound together with silk rope, watching it splash over lovely shivering skin, staring into your eyes as he wasted it, leaving rivers of expensive, blood-colored wine dripping all over your naked body.

Waiting.

"Keep still or you will be punished."

Leaning forward, breathing in. Blackberries and the ocean, the alcohol secondary. Licking it off, slow, deliberate, savoring the taste of skin and wine, watching you struggle to stay still. A mess. A beautiful mess.

That kind of thing wasn't his style.

In light of recent events, however, Yoongi found himself expanding his horizons.

His eyes flickered upwards to see a certain tattoo artist stumbling into the party, looking lost and bewildered in a slim, pinstriped suit, newly tailored to fit his built frame. Amusingly, the first few buttons of the pressed black dress shirt were undone. The young man was completely devoid of a tie, as if it suffocated him being in such a formal state. Gunmetal chain necklace with a pendant of the designer that matched his suit. The pinstripe detailing was subtly repeated the lacing of his shoes. The tones of his rings were the same shade of gray and black in the suit. Every aspect was handpicked by someone who had a very good eye for detail.

Yoongi himself, of course.

Even the eyebrow piercing, lip ring, hand tattoos, and half-slicked back black hair, Jeon Jungkook was handsome enough to be here on looks alone. Everyone accepted his presence and didn’t ask why he was at one of the most expensive parties in the entire city, stationed at a luxury hotel owned by Yoongi's very own father. The rich were all eccentric anyway. Too much money to be normal. Throw some money on him and Jungkook fit right in.

The only thing that gave him away was the deer-in-headlights look and the fact that he kept fiddling with his cufflinks as if they were damn fidget spinners.

Yoongi smiled, amused as the younger male was offered champagne, denied it, was informed by the waiter that it was complementary and then did not hesitate. The people around him were still talking but he excused himself and his wine, swiftly exiting from the conversation and keeping his eye on Jungkook, careful to keep his distance and avoid being seen.

He could see that Jungkook was, very desperately, trying to find him.

Yoongi, however, was a sadist.

There was a certain level of discomfort you enjoyed. A sweet spot, if you will. Being too uncomfortable was simply downright annoying. Being too comfortable was complacency. No, you enjoyed being challenged. Maybe even craved it.

Your best when under duress, you liked to think.

You were pretty sure your previous therapist told you before that these thoughts were a product of your trauma. Well. Couldn’t turn back time, so might as well use it to your advantage and be dominated by fabulously wealthy Min Yoongi and dashingly dangerous Jeon Jungkook.

Heh.

Speaking of uncomfortable, this dress was going to be the death of you. Black tie was the instruction and you always followed instructions – when they benefited you, of course – but perhaps your eyes were bigger than your sanity when you bought this black silk gown. Low straight-across neckline, thin straps perched on the shoulders, open back with delicate silver chains to create a diamond pattern once it was on. Hip-hugging, with a high slit exposing the left leg. The hemline just barely grazed the floor once your heels were on.

Once you saw your reflection in the dressing room mirror, you knew you wanted it.

Problem was, you hadn’t thought about how annoying this dress would be to put on alone.

Of course, the employee in the store that fitted you and they made it look easy. Now you were struggling trying not to break any of the dainty silver chains while navigating past them. This was why the rich had assistants, huh? Sigh. Well, you had persistence and the order to look expensive. That was enough motivation. You smoothed the dress out once it was on and spent several minutes craning your head to check that none of the gleaming chains had tangled. You had to maintain posture when you wore it so the chains hung correctly, but you would have to stand straight anyway in your shoes. At least the dress looked as expensive as it was. You even had it tailored to your body so the seams laid well, fitting every curve.

Nice.

Now, the details. No necklace. The collarbones were enough distraction. No rings either, because you had purchased above-elbow-length, black velvet opera gloves. The secret to easily looking luxe was same color family but contrasting textures. No tattoos would be showing except part of your the world is quiet here waist tattoo. Only the words quiet here on your lower back were exposed, black ink curtained by lines of silver.

You smiled.

How fun.

You smoothed your hair back to a sleek ponytail with stray locks of hair framing your face. A little adjustment, light hairspray, and it was difficult to discern your behind-the-ear tattoos. Could be mistaken for a strand of hair rather than a semicolon on the left side and the exclamation mark on the right. You had to be looking for them to know what they were.

Small secrets etched to your skin.

Next, perfume.

Heavy glass bottle. Silver cap removed, and you doused yourself with the scent of blackberries and the ocean. You let a moment pass for it to settle. Savoring the sharpness that softened out to something deeper, warmer, your skin transforming the fruity fragrance to something muskier and more mysterious.

You closed your eyes and you could smell them against you.

They, of course, smelled different.

Yoongi always wore various expensive colognes that saturated his already intense demeanor. You were overcome by it every time you kissed him, dark woods and salt air, lips like sweet sin that wordlessly commanded surrender to me. Detail-oriented in scent, visuals, and mannerisms. He could turn you into an instrument for his symphony with his touch, just like that.

In contrast, Jungkook had a single scent. Clean and refreshing, and it never wavered. He himself was very polite, modest, and straightforward, until his breath was mixing with yours and then his single driven hunger emerged. Lips that tasted of carnal promises that dragged you down into depravity, turning fantasy to reality.

Your lips curved into a devious smile.

Your reflection smiled back at you, enjoying these thoughts.

There was a little bit of transformation here too. You always kept your office makeup demure. Lip balm over the natural pigmentation of your lips. Black-brown mascara. Sometimes brown eyeshadow for eyeliner if you were feeling fancy. Always manicured brows; those were essential. But this night gala required a little bit more darkness. Smokey black eyeshadow with a hint of silver sparkle to match your dress. Ink black mascara, blood red lips standing out against the monochrome. Still no skin tint or foundation. Every beauty mark remained visible.

Bare, only enhanced.

You’re here.

Your hand rose and you touched the mirror.

In your mind’s eye, there it was, the dark dorm room and hell closing in. No pretty clothes, just the same sweat set you had worn for too many days on end. Tangled hair, your fingers locked into it and clawing your scalp. No looking in mirrors, because mirrors reminded you that you were real, a tangible thing, a reminder that you existed and for some reason everyone had something negative to say about your existence. Nowhere safe. Not your head, not home, not university where everything was supposed to be a fresh start, where every college movie said that you could to reinvent yourself through education or parties. Instead, you had gotten singled out and torn apart. A change of scenery didn’t change the truth. You learned the hard way that there was no haven even in the great expanse of the real world.

In your mind’s eye, you saw you making that choice.

Poured them out and swallowed them all.

Then the world a blur, at least for a couple years.

And now, your life was completely different.

It was strange to think that the worst night helped Yoongi remember you. You didn’t even know he existed back then. It was completely by chance that he chose that night to fuck some random girl living on the same dorm floor as you and it was completely by chance that you chose that night. You hadn’t planned it. Life was a string of coincidences. You had never thought that a spontaneous decision to walk into a tattoo shop and getting that first semicolon for cheap from a student would result in meeting Jeon Jungkook for the first time. You thought for a long time about getting the semicolon tattoo, always saying to yourself that you would get it when you were “over it”, whatever that meant. You remembered standing in front of that tattoo shop, gazing at the advertisement, and thinking, am I ever going to be over it? How many therapists, self-help books, years has it been now? You had realized that you had been chasing the innocence of “before that choice”, trying to get back who you were before that, something that didn’t seem possible. Stupid, even. Plus, the irony of tattooing a semicolon to signify that you were “over it”? Fuck it.

You had sat in that chair and Jungkook had walked up, polite and neat, strung-out thin with nervousness.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

You would think Jungkook was the one who said that but, actually, it was you.

Seeing him, you realized, I can’t get it back.

Not the time when you were “okay” because there was never an “okay”, not even when you were a child. You couldn’t get that time back, not the time you spent being consumed by your demons, not the time lost because of the choice itself, not the time you spent recovering and relearning. It was easy to think all that time before now was all a waste, easy to wish you could undo it all and redo life. It was hard. It was uncomfortable to feel that pain, to acknowledge that it would always be a part of you, to accept that it was etched into your skin forever.

You could, however, pick your pain from now on.

Jungkook had carefully set up and explained what he was going to do. He hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he would be able to calmly make small talk and put others at ease with his confidence. No, back then he was scared shitless and it was pretty damn obvious even though his hands were steady. All the preparation in the world didn’t cloak the terrifying reality that he was about to do something permanent to someone he didn’t know.

“This is your first tattoo, right? It shouldn’t hurt too much,” he had tried to reassure you.

“I have a high pain tolerance. Go ahead and stab me.”

He had glanced down and you had smirked at him right before he did, in fact, stab you. A very different experience than being tied up and pinned down for the exclamation mark.

Time to have what’s mine.

You walked away from the mirror and slipped into your red-soled, black high heels.

Jungkook was lost.

He had a glass of champagne in one hand. Visually, he blended right in the large crowd of people wearing clothes worth at least twice his rent. Inwardly, though, he was suffocating, confused, and terrified that someone was going to speak to him. The second he accidentally made eye contact with anyone caused him to immediately turn around and pretend he was busy looking for someone else, praying whoever it was would get distracted and not follow him.

Where the fuck is hyung?

One would think that that particularly filthy rich man could be easily found, considering this was the grand ballroom of his hotel. Well, Yoongi didn’t own it yet, but he might as well, considering he was the acting director. Son of the current director, who was probably sitting in a high-rise restaurant, golfing, or doing some similarly insipid rich-man pastime. Not that Jungkook knew what Yoongi’s father was like at all. He was only making assumptions based on the fact that his hyung never spoke about him. Actually, as far as Jungkook could tell, Yoongi never spoke about his inner feelings.

The older male was always “on”, as one would say.

At least, in front of Jungkook.

Didn’t matter what the situation was, even with his hand around your throat, and Jungkook’s brain was hazy with lust, his chest rattling with his own breath, deeper, fuck, so tight, driving his hips into yours, the scent of sex smeared onto his skin and soaked into the air, and your glassy eyes were all he wanted see, parted lips on the brink of orgasm.

And Yoongi.

Dark, cat-like eyes on the edge of the bed, watching him choke and fuck you.

Open-mouthed smirk and all.

A shiver ate though Jungkook’s spine at the memory.

Why am I remembering that right now?

He winced at the Louis Vuitton slacks practically straightjacketing his erection right now. Shit, how do people wear such clothes? His eyes darted from every corner of the party, searching for those pointed feline ones, remembering all the details of their last session. The raspy whisper, the knot should be like this, and him swallowing his irritation of having to be corrected but paying attention all the same, following Yoongi’s instruction to secure the end of the rope to one of the solid metal rings bolted to the bedframe.

He recalled so clearly, his hyung asking him, how long can you last?

What are you talking about? Jungkook had frowned. I’m the one in charge.

Yoongi had smirked.

“That you are.”

It had seemed like such a placid comment but for some reason a surge of fire shot up his core, sudden ferocity and pinning his hands to the headboard, sliding in slow. Into constricting, wet bliss, and you watched him silently, lush lashes and lasting lust, biting down on his t-shirt, and Jungkook thought it was a dumb question, how long could he last, as long as he wanted of course, and he would show Yoongi he wasn’t some kid, he was a man who could push you to the brink and make you cum again and again, he didn’t have to go fast and hard, he could go slow and tense and make you tear up with want, force you to pulse around him to take him to the edge, but Jungkook wasn’t going to give in so easily, because he was in charge.

He was.

His arms shook and he pressed into you, into the heavy scent of sex that clung to him and haunted his dreams, into sweet-sour mixed with blackberries and the sea and Jungkook was consumed by the high, his nails clawing into the wood, I’ll show you, hyung, staring down at you with your arms tied up, god, so fucking beautiful, couldn’t help himself, putting direct force behind his hips and gasping at the depth, so close, your walls squeezing him tight, your cum running down his thighs, so good, slamming his fist into the headboard, sudden pain shooting up his arm and he came, a high that knocked the wind out of him, growling deep in his chest as the pleasure seeped up his crotch, into his stomach, his cock jerking and spilling into the condom, the strain of holding himself back viciously crumbling apart and racing through his veins, wave after crashing wave that left him airless.

You moaned under him, teeth still in his balled-up t-shirt, your pretty eyes rolling back into your head, white knuckles grasping the rope tightly.

Jungkook felt someone touch his fist and pull it away from the headboard.

“Careful there.”

He couldn’t breathe.

A hand brushed his hair back from the side of his face.

His lungs burned, panting heavily to catch his breath.

Then a raspy, deep whisper by his cheek.

“Not bad,” Yoongi had murmured.

Jungkook’s eyes darted to the side to glare piercingly, but by then the feline gaze had slipped away, tugging at the rope to loosen it and let your arms fall onto the pillows.

I’ll show you, hyung.

Now, Jungkook straightened his back. Downed his entire glass of champagne and glanced around for that head of long dark hair and fair skin. Fine. If the older man wanted to play hide-and-seek, then so be it. Jungkook was a good predator.

He knew he was.

“Why do you look so pissed off?”

Blackberries and the sea breeze invading his nose.

Jungkook snapped his head to see you standing because him, delicious body tightly wrapped in black silk, fabric so luxe that it was shimmering, clinging to your delectable body. Seductive and smokey eye makeup. Deep scarlet lipstick that made your plush lips stand out. Black velvet long gloves, daintily holding a black leather clutch. And, of course, killer heels that made your legs look even more delicious, inviting him to fuck you right in the middle of this room in front of all these people.

You smirked, just barely.

His submissive.

His.

Jungkook could taste you on his tongue and he was ravenous.

“Nervous, huh?”

There was a tease to your voice.

He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you say that?” he growled.

Your head tilted and, there it was, his exclamation point tattooed onto you, below your right ear, invisible under your hair unless someone was looking for it. That line, from ear, down the neck, to collarbone and shoulder. Fuck. Simply seeing it made him want to cover it with his cum. Or sink his teeth into it.

Or both.

“You seem a bit…” You paused for effect. “High strung.”

His eyebrow cocked as he ground his teeth. “I’m not–”

But then you turned around, so suddenly, and then Jungkook couldn’t breathe, the high slit exposing your left thigh, soft, smooth, bitable, and then the turn of your body, that perfect ass, molded to the fabric and your naked back draped in thin, glittering chains. Two words at your waist, peeking out amongst the lines of silver.

quiet here

Jungkook couldn’t help but think that was your response to anything he had to say right now. Using your body to shut him up. It worked. He didn’t want to think about anything else, nothing except ripping those chains off one by one, sliding his hands under to grip your breasts, using that leg slit to his advantage and pushing it up your ass so he could fuck you from behind and slowly tear apart this expensive dress off your body with every vicious thrust.

The only thing stopping him was realizing that the garment probably cost you a lot.

“Found Yoongi.”

Of course.

The sound of clinking glasses and fake laughter seemed to die out, or at least he couldn’t hear it anymore. Of course, you found Yoongi. Of course, Jungkook spent all this time being lost and then resolving to hunt the older man down and you arrive to find danger within seconds. Of course, because how could it be any other way, Yoongi torturing him in his head, Yoongi stuffing him in this expensive cage of a suit, Yoongi abandoning him in this party of better bodies because Jungkook didn’t belong here. He was just impersonating power, a false god, a paper doll.

His inhale stilled in his throat.

I’m an animal, but I don’t belong in this zoo.

Jungkook stared at the empty champagne glass in his hand.

It was shaking.

He started as he felt pressure on his right and left shoulder. Two bodies boxing him in, the one on his right facing behind him, the one on his left facing forward like he was. A three-sixty-degree circle of vision. The shoulder against his right was bare, save for a tiny silk strap. The one on his left was covered, crisp black suit, white shirt with a ruffled collar, put-together and unshakable.

Long, deft fingers curled around his trembling hand, stilling the champagne glass.

It was a pampered hand, but that grip was pretty damn strong.

“It stinks out here,” Yoongi softly murmured. “Smells like sordid sucking-up.”

The older man let go of his hand.

The champagne glass was steady now.

“That’s not very nice, Yoongi,” you purred.

You pressed your body against Jungkook’s side, a familiar and comforting weight. He breathed in, slowly, and there it was, blackberries and the sea mixing with crisp dark woods, and he was somewhere else now, in a bedroom between bodies where he was free, no more pretending, no more doubts, finally alive.

His haven.

“I’ll have to leave separately from you two, but I’m sure you can keep yourselves occupied.”

Jungkook felt a key card being slid into his left pant pocket. A miracle it went in so easily, considering how fucking tight they were. His erection still hadn’t fully gone away. Either rich people had really small dicks or never had any reason to be aroused.

Or both.

“You need to be sordidly sucked-up to some more?” you snickered. You weren’t facing him. Jungkook couldn’t feel the heat of your breath on his clothes. It annoyed him. “I could give you that if you’ll that desperate for it.”

“How nice of you to have the foresight to wear gloves to gag you with,” was the reply.

“Get me out of here,” Jungkook growled under his breath, turning his head ever-so-slightly to see the breathtaking profile of Min Yoongi. Cascading black hair, swept to his right, intent forward gaze, pink lips that looked soft but held a wicked tongue.

Rich. Refined. Restrained.

Just barely.

Jungkook’s mind reminded him of how Yoongi was in bed. Disheveled hair, sharp body lines, ruthless and merciless. One hand on your chin, fingers curled into your cheek and thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, your spit running down his palm as he held one of your arms behind your back, fucking you hard and deliberate, looking up to Jungkook, open-mouthed smirk and elegant savagery gleaming in those dark eyes.

Didn’t say anything.

That was power.

Similarly, instead of answering, Yoongi stepped away and strode past him.

It was so simple that it was almost painful.

You slipped away from Jungkook, but he wasn’t worried. His eyes followed the back of that black suit, longline jacket tailored to perfection, to long legs and crisp dress shoes that shone brighter than most people’s futures, and turned away, placing the champagne glass on a nearby table, abandoning it.

On the hunt.

His eyes followed those thin silver chains, that graceful back and confident walk. Your background meant you didn’t belong here either, but that didn’t matter to you. That didn’t matter because you didn’t come here to belong. The luxurious dress was only an illusion. You came for the hit-and-run, a masked desperado aiming to be caught, but not by the authorities.

Jungkook followed you, silent and at a distance.

Ah, the service elevator.

At this point, you were close acquaintances.

You navigated through dark hallways and shadows, followed by your own. No one gave you a second glance. Employees brushed past, bustling along with their carts and looking forward, pretending to see nothing, know nothing. You stayed out of their way, flattening against the wall when needed, gliding past, rolling wheels concealing the click of your heels. Oh, they knew your face. They probably knew Jeon Jungkook too, for they did not respond to his presence either, not even the hotel security that hurried past.

They couldn’t afford the consequences.

Whatever speculation they had wasn’t worth losing such a cushy job.

You stopped in front of the metal doors. It detected the presence of a valid keycard as Jungkook approached. The buttons glowed softly, waiting.

Imploring entry.

There was a fluttering sound of a handkerchief being tucked away. You felt heat behind you. Close but not close enough. One hand holding your clutch, the other using your middle finger to press the up button. The elevator pinged and whirred, noise loud in the empty, dark hallway. A tattooed hand appeared next to yours. Steady fingers landing onto black velvet, tracing the back your hand and down the glove. Chills all over as you observed the descent, seeing the tail of an inked snake peeking out from under the pinstriped cuff.

Warm breath nearing your ear, deep silvery voice speaking quietly.

“Couldn’t wait?”

You chuckled as the doors slid open.

“Admit it. You’re over waiting.”

You were almost worried, for there was uneasiness radiating from Jungkook that you couldn’t quite place. He was trying to hide it and you had no desire to let him know he was bad at it, from the shake in his voice to the obvious need to inhale your perfume, but you calmed as you felt the tension lessen with every step, click, into the elevator, click, into familiarity, click, the metal doors closing with finality, and then the party was gone, leaving only the hunter and the hunted.

Jungkook slowly turned around.

You leaned your head back, corner of your lips ticking upward.

It had been New Year’s Eve and it all started in this elevator, after you had a shitty fuck upstairs and Yoongi was having a shitty time at his own party, choosing instead to go up all these flights with a different stranger, someone who was on the same wavelength, bodies colliding, and Jungkook shoved you into the wall, mirroring the memory and kissing you fiercely.

He relaxed.

Your tongue slid against his lip ring and Jungkook captured it, taking you with his mouth, sucking on it hard as you gripped his upper arms to keep your balance and raised your left leg, wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer. Shuddered into his mouth, realizing how cold you had been moments before, but no longer, absorbing his boundless heat.

Eye to eye, untamed wildfire in those dark brown orbs.

You felt him come alive with your kiss.

One arm around your waist, and Jungkook growled deep in his chest, fingers of his right hand digging into your thigh, clawing up and making you gasp into his mouth, pausing as his other hand traveled up, following the delicate chains along your spine, sending sparks through your blood as his fingertips barely made contact with your skin. A flick of his wrist and he gripped your ponytail, tugging sharply, making your head snap back and exposing your neck to him.

He exhaled, hot breath scalding hotter skin.

Hand on your ass, creeping closer.

You smiled at the ceiling as Jungkook snarled your name against your quivering throat.

“Surprise,” was your breathy reply.

The elevator dinged.

The doors opened to familiar garish, lavish wallpaper. Plush red carpet, so thick that shoe soles didn’t make a sound. Nobody standing in the hallway of the hotel penthouse suite, probably ordered to stay away at this hour. This was a planned meeting, after all. You wondered if Jungkook knew that but, more likely than not, he simply no longer cared, because he let go of your hair and pressed his hand into your upper back, pushing your body into him. You hooked one arm around his shoulder and gasped as two fingers roughly plunged into your exposed pussy, no French-cut panties to stop him this time. Everything planned, after all.

He picked you up easily.

Expensive dress askew, your collarbone against his lips, your ass against his hard forearm, and every step jolting pleasure, his fingers moving inside you. Wet, sloppy sounds echoing in the hall, squeezing your thighs against his clothed waist, the cool air against your bare ass as he carried you to the door.

“Do you like the surprise?” you whispered into his ear.

“What would you have done if someone saw?” Jungkook hissed back, clearly irritated.

“Nothing. I know who I belong to.”

You could tell he liked your answer, because he shoved his fingers deeper and hoisted you higher, causing you to moan and clutch his head, burying your fingers into his hair.

“Open the door.”

You struggled to reach down and grasp the key card in his left pocket, biting back a cry as he shoved a third finger into you, keeping a firm hold on your body so you were well-balanced. It was a miracle you didn’t lose a shoe.

You smacked the card against the door handle and heard a click.

Jungkook opened the door with his elbow and dragged you inside.

Jungkook didn’t know where all the fancy stuff was. Couldn’t remember. Yoongi had showed him before, and he wouldn’t say he forgot so much as didn’t care when he was knuckles deep into tight, wet pussy. Didn’t even turn on the lights. There was plenty of light radiating up against the building, the city filtering through the sheer curtains, and all he cared about was throwing you down on the bed and thrusting his fingers into you, hard and fast and meaning fucking business, because how dare you risk exposing what was his to the world?

It was hot though.

He wasn’t going to say it was, but it was. It was fucking hot knowing you were out in public with no panties so he could have you once he knew, touch you right away, smell you right away, fuck, yes, that sweet-sour potency that drove him crazy and made him forget how uncomfortable he had been, nothing else mattering but the way you trembled under him as his hand closed in around your neck, forcing your legs open with his body. Only you in his eyes, leaning down, driving his fingers into you as he kissed those red lips and choked you, cutting off the blood to a trickle and turning your breath hazy, erratic, giving in to him.

Blackberries and the sea mixing with sex, igniting his blood.

Jungkook looked down, seeing the black fabric of your dress shimmering in the low light, bunched around your waist. Watched his fingers slide in and out of your pussy, sensations crawling up his arm, your walls closing in, slick wetness becoming wetter, loud and squelching thrusts, the words he tattooed clearly visible, on the right, in the space where your leg and crotch connected.

GOOD LUCK

You came onto his hand with a gasp, and Jungkook bent down, running his tongue other your open lips, dripping saliva and hot exhale into your mouth.

“That’s a good pet,” he murmured, feeling the high of power as he said it.

He pulled his fingers out, cherishing your protesting whine, keeping his face close as he brought his hand up. Coated with your cum, thick and delicious. Smelled so fucking good. Jungkook loved the way it clung to his fingers, saturating his skin with you. Loved the way the scent lingered. Loved to taste it.

He smeared your orgasm onto your cheek.

“Lick it off.”

His voice was gravelly, strained with desire.

Brought his fingers to your lips and pushed them into the waiting wet cavity, into warm tongue and soft lips, fucking your mouth, the red stain smeared from his kisses, and he too came close, licking your cheek, his tongue against your beauty marks, his blood electrified by the taste of your release.

More.

He needed more.

Hands on your knees. One wet, one dry. Spreading them wide, your thighs flush to the edge of the bed, and he didn’t ask, didn’t need to, slinking down like a dark shadow, this fucking suit feeling too damn constricting but he didn’t care, the heady sweet-sour nectar being his only goal, seeing those glistening puffy lips, fuck, so beautiful, on his knees and lowering his head, curling his tongue around your engorged clit and sucking, hard.

You cried out and your hips bucked, but Jungkook grabbed your thighs strongly and sunk his fingers in, forcing you to obey. Nicked his teeth against it and the pitch of your cry hiked, turning into a wanton moan as he licked, driving you to insanity with him, your taste flooding into his mouth, thrusting his tongue into your pussy when you got close, cruelly cutting off your high and then building it back up, over and over, dedicated and deliberate.

This kind of thing wasn't his style.

Jungkook liked it make you cum as many times and as hard as possible, but for some reason he felt different today. His own tense thighs were straining against the suit pants, his unbearable erection throbbing in the confines, and yet he continued, teasing and playing with your clit until your legs were vibrating, gasping above him to finish you, but Jungkook ignored it, feeling the buttons of his dress shirt straining against his flexed chest, his lip ring slick with your juices.

He was in Yoongi’s clothes, in Yoongi’s penthouse, eating you out because he owned you.

What a thought.

Jungkook locked his lips around your swollen clit and forced you to cum right then, powerful and rough licking, his eyes closed to savor the way you moaned his name and thrust into his face, slick pulsating on his tongue and covering him with your pent-up lust, so delectable that he sighed in content, pressing his tongue flat over your shaking, leaking slit, drinking up your orgasm with greed.

So.

Fucking.

Good.

Jungkook raised his head, the tips of his gelled hair brushing against his cheek, probably knocked loose in his vigor. Breathed out, slow, devilish grin spreading over his lips, basking in the feeling of your orgasm sticking to his face. Opened his eyes to see your body spread open before him, your chest shivering, nipples hard and visible through the black silk.

He sensed something else.

No.

Someone.

A body crouching beside him on his left side.

Silent as the midnight, fair skin lit up by moonlight.

Min Yoongi turned his head and now his hyung’s face was close to his, breathing in the scent of your release. Jungkook froze, a strange feeling burning inside him, veins scorched with jamais vu.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

That whisper, dark and husky, purring in Jungkook’s ear.

The lightest touch of a tongue grazing his cheek, licking your cum off his face.

Yoongi stood up and backed away as Jungkook tried not to shiver, snapping his head to follow the older man’s movement, suddenly aware of his tense grip, shallow breath, heartbeat roaring in his ears, not reacting to your whimper, too fixated on the way Yoongi’s longer black hair shrouded his face and kept him in shadow, hiding his expression until the right moment.

The older male picked up your discarded clutch from the bed.

Opened it.

Looked up and Jungkook saw the flash of devious eyes, gleaming like black diamonds.

“Ready?”

Yoongi turned your clutch upside down and dumped the contents, condoms spilling out onto your trembling chest, arrogant smirk directed right at Jungkook.

Everything downstairs – those were his responsibilities. The glamor, the vanity, the overabundance, a world detached. He was part of that, a role Min Yoongi had to play in this life. Tradition, lineage, all that shit. It could be suffocating. When he was younger, he thought about running away. Cutting off these strings and making something from nothing instead. He thought that was the only way, the only way to find himself, the only way to make the composition he wanted.

That, or erasing everything.

But that wasn’t true. Nobody lived without satisfaction and annoyances. One couldn’t appreciate pleasure without pain. Running away was running away, not a solution. He still had to deal with the root issue. Yoongi used to think that he had been trapped by the rules, but he simply hadn’t yet realized that he could manipulate them as he wished if he was cunning enough. It wasn’t the rules themselves that locked him up.

What Yoongi really needed, he discovered, was to have some aspect of his life he really understood, felt, explored. Those other things in his life – the greetings, the meetings, the pushing money around – those were just things he did, not who he was.

No, Min Yoongi knew who he was.

An architect.

A composer.

A puppeteer who created the strings in the shadows, and he pulled them, one by one, lines and curves and bodies, all to watch the carnal art unfold right in front of his eyes.

There was no pleasure without pain.

Yoongi was addicted to the creation. Not necessarily into producing exactly what he was thinking of, but rather letting what came naturally to his fingertips happen. Seeing what came of his touch. He didn’t plan licking Jeon Jungkook’s face. He had arrived and saw the younger man eating you out, and patiently watched. Waited. Approached silently when Jungkook was done.

Could smell you on that skin and his impulse was to taste.

Similarly, Yoongi didn’t think about everything he wanted to do to you when he was standing in the elevator. There was plenty of time to explore that when he had you to himself. You were his, after all. He had to consider the other person involved. The uncertainty.

Hm, well.

Not entirely an uncertainty.

Undercover mirth when Yoongi spied Jungkook observing his actions with wide-eyed interest. His deft fingers found the invisible zipper of your slinky dress and tugged it down evenly, helping you out of it. Would the younger man have ripped it off you if Yoongi was late? Probably, because he was impatient and uninformed. How amusing. Yoongi almost wished he took longer. Simply curious of how they would problem solve you having to leave without any spare clothes. But it was a nice dress, and you had paid for it with your money. Maybe next time Yoongi could convince you to use his money so he could rip everything off when he wanted to.

He filed that thought for a later event.

But now Yoongi’s attention was elsewhere, away from the eccentricities of the younger male, because you arrived without undergarments. Pleasant, but also a point of beginning. You knew how to get him in the mood.

Yoongi stood behind you now, fully clothed.

He brought his face close to the nape of your neck. Not much to hide behind now, leaving you in your high heels and long gloves. He could see your reflection in the vanity mirror in his periphery. Perky tits, waist tattoo, and the dip between your legs. GOOD LUCK winking up at him, the edges of your body glowing from moon.

Yes, that was the very same mirror he used when he choked Jungkook for the first time.

Yoongi placed his hand on your right shoulder.

“Left hand.”

You turned your head slightly, facing him partway as your left arm raised. He let himself breathe in, let himself partake. Blackberries. The ocean. The faint scent of sex below. Your gloved fingertips stroked his knuckles, velvet as soft as your touch. He let his eyes follow your neckline, up that delicate curve, to your hair, loose strands covering the semicolon tattoo behind your left ear.

He grasped the fingertips of your gloves.

One by one, pulling.

He reached up with his free hand, easily in his crisp black suit and white shirt. Touched your chin, tracing your jaw, lifting it just a little. Watched your lips part, red smeared from Jungkook’s kisses. He didn’t mind it. Perfect in imperfection.

Yoongi always made sure to choose his words carefully.

“Pull.”

You listened, elegantly, bit by bit, revealing your arm as the glove slipped off. His eyes flickered down to see the Sith Order symbol on your inner left forearm. A symbol of using emotion to secure power, and the tattoo he chose to spark that conversation on that New Year’s Eve. He trailed his fingers along your jaw, tucking your hair behind you ear and holding it there, bringing his lips close to the semicolon tattoo, the symbol of the night when he first saw you.

He couldn’t do anything about those terrible nights back then, but he could do something about the nights of your future.

“Hold onto the end,” Yoongi whispered, his voice deepening with desire.

He gripped the hand of your opera glove with his right hand and planted his left in between your shoulder blades, bending you down at the hips. You almost lost balance, but he had a good hold and so did you, your right arm still gloved and wrapping around your waist, gasping at the suddenness. Did not block the view of your breasts, which Yoongi appreciated. Your ass was firmly against his crotch. He glanced at the mirror, admiring the image. Your hard nipples pointing down, your head lifting, the trace of a smile, and he faintly smiled back, his left hand sliding down your spine.

Such a pretty face.

Then Yoongi forcefully pushed his middle and ring finger into your pussy.

His smile turned into an open-mouthed smirk as you whined, biting your lower lip and shivering, pushing back against his hand. He liked the feeling of your walls closing in, wet and tight and powerful, enjoyed your pussy clinging to him, body pleading for more. He twisted his right hand to strengthen the one thing holding you up, tugging on the velvet glove so your back was forced to arch, open mouth and thin moan, widening your stance to keep still. He thrust hard and slow, aiming for that aching depth.

Yoongi knew what he was, and he was a sadist.

“Want a dick in your holes, don’t you?” he murmured. He flexed his fingers inside you and your lashes fluttered, pushing back against him to fight his rhythm. Trying to entice him to go faster.

“P... Please…”

He stopped.

“Answer the question.”

Breathless, begging, your beautifully strained face looking at him in the mirror. “Yes, Yoongi, I want a dick in my holes, any of them, please.”

He liked a good listener.

Yoongi let himself smile for you, calm and serene.

His eyes flickered to the other part of the room, to where Jeon Jungkook was watching, out of his blazer and dress shirt now, slacks unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. Muscular chest, defined arms, the heavily inked right arm fully on display. The shift in attention made Jungkook’s gaze snap to Yoongi’s, those dark brown eyes narrowing, silver lip ring gleaming on the edge of pursed lips.

Nothing to say.

Yoongi pressed his index fingertip to that tight ring of muscle and eased it into you ass as he stared at Jungkook, amused as he spotted the subtle widening of those brown eyes, then the swift recollection of composure, the obvious twitching bulge in his pants giving him away. But Yoongi continued to say nothing, sliding his pinky into your pussy as well, and now he thrust his left hand into your holes, a devious gratification growing in his chest as you moaned and grinded back against his knuckles. There was a reason he asked if you wanted a dick in your holes. You had replied satisfactorily that you came ready to fuck.

No wasted words.

He fingered your ass and pussy with his attention directed to Jungkook.

Hard.

Deep.

Forcing you to fill the penthouse with your cries, Yoongi!

“Tch.”

Again, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t entirely an uncertainty.

The younger male jerked his gaze away and stepped past him, not saying anything even though Yoongi heard him loud and clear. He kept his expression away from Jungkook to avoid smugly smirking in his face, that would be too much, but Yoongi knew exactly what was happening. He could hear the zipper, feel the ripple in your body, see from his periphery Jungkook grabbing your chin and lifting your head, your right arm immediately clutching Jungkook’s naked hip to hold yourself up, barely a moment to open your mouth before his hard cock shoved right between your lips.

Yoongi turned his head back, keeping his face neutral as he increased the speed just a little, finally giving you what you wanted.

“Suck,” Jungkook growled.

Yes, Yoongi enjoyed a lust-driven, violent composition.

He savored the way your pussy and ass sucked his fingers in, felt his cock throb as he hit all the right spots and made you moan around Jungkook’s length, watching you swallowing that thick shaft even deeper with that tattooed hand behind your head. Jungkook thrust down your throat with a hiss, chest rippling with exertion, your black velvet-covered hand splayed against tan skin, gripping the younger man’s hip as all three of your holes were used.

You whined in your ribcage and came all over Yoongi’s fingers, hips flinching and twitching, but he merely tugged sharply on your glove, hearing seams shudder, and kept going. In. Out. In, out. Faster, harder, matching Jungkook’s pace, seeing those dark brown eyes fixated on your face to watch you blow him desperately, and it wasn’t enough for Yoongi so he removed his middle finger from your pussy and shoved it into your ass instead.

He saw your shoulders jerk and heard the whining wail being shoved back into your chest.

“Don’t you dare stop just because hyung is fucking you. Take it.”

Yoongi let go of the glove and dug his fingers into your hip, forcing your ass back into his hand, and your suddenly free hand flew to Jungkook’s thigh, throwing the glove aside, fervently moving your head back and forth, lips soft, throat tight, Yoongi knew it all once he saw Jungkook’s eyes close and his head tip back. Lips parting, the mole underneath them quivering, the previously slicked-back black hair now becoming unkempt and disheveled.

I created this.

And it filled him with pride, and Yoongi knew pride was a sin, and so was the primal pleasure clearly displayed between bodies. Sex dripping everywhere, down your legs, down Yoongi’s hand, down your chin, over Jungkook’s balls, closer, closer, closer, ah, yes, and Yoongi didn’t care, he didn’t give a fuck how many sins he committed, didn’t care about anything but seeing the shameless ecstasy consume those handsome features, sharp clenched jaw, your name in a vicious snarl, Jungkook thrusting his hips forward and down, spilling into your throat as your body shook and you came again, orgasm spilling down your thighs, all over Yoongi’s knuckles. Viscous nectar and throbbing flinches, whimpering at the intensity, unable to speak with Jungkook’s cock still fully sheathed in your hot, wet tightness.

Your cum was on his suit.

Good.

He flexed his fingers and you moaned, gurgling and messy, swallowing so you could breathe.

Jungkook was panting.

Heavy and ravenous.

“Open your mouth.”

You did, and tattooed fingers tangled in your ponytail, yanking your head back, leaving your dangling tongue in the air and Yoongi saw that Jungkook was still hard, the tip purple-head and swollen. He wrapped his other hand around the length, smacking the head of his cock against your outstretched tongue, the sound visceral and obscene.

“Good girl.”

Jungkook looked up, making eye contact and grinning devilishly.

How fun.

Yoongi smirked, pressing his fingers into your ass.

Jungkook made you ride him with your hands tied behind your back, using your velvet gloves to bind your wrists. Toyed with your nipples the entire time, pinching and tugging as you drove him into you again and again, gasping at how hard he was and his self-satisfied expression, so pleased with his power that it made you wetter, clenching your core to be good for him, massaging his length with every roll of your hips. You dug your knees into the mattress and gave him your all, unable to speak, all oxygen used to keep up the intense, fierce pace.

You stared into the fire, into Jungkook’s eyes glittering with dangerous desire.

Silvery shivers down your spine as he purred your name.

Aggressive, possessive, obsessive.

His hands on your hips, strongly sinking his fingers into the softness and ramming his crotch up into you, making you gasp and moan at the abrupt change, but that brief moment was all you got, suddenly helpless in his hands as he fucked you from below. Loud wet smacks echoing in the large room, even the bed protesting in creaks. Rough, deep, there, nerves singed with passionate flame, spine arching and throwing your head back, hair flying everywhere, sensitive nipples pointing up, your eyes rolling back and Jungkook’s stiff length jerking inside you. Low groan and final slap of hips to crotch, your shuddering pussy wrapping around his twitching cock, his orgasm spurting into the condom.

Your GOOD LUCK tattoo flush against his v-line.

Couldn’t breathe.

You saw a white hotel towel being tossed onto the bed and then a pale hand reached out, deft fingers wrapping around your neck.

Now the blood was becoming thin, the afterglow reaching new heights as Yoongi choked you, leaning down to kiss your open mouth. Your lipstick had been wiped away earlier, basically gone after blowing Jungkook, but Yoongi seemed to prefer it that way, nicking his teeth against your plush lower lip and humming softly.

“Breathe.”

He released your neck and a wretched whine shot out of your lungs, ferocious rush of blood and oxygen mixed with the high slamming into you again, either because you weren’t able to fully enjoy the previous one or because Yoongi’s power was so potent that arousal spiked immediately.

It was probably both.

Drawn-out, strained moan, almost collapsing if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s strong hold and Jungkook’s hands on your waist, holding your violently trembling body up, you struggling to catch your breath, adrenaline ricocheting through your veins, strung-out on the back-to-back orgasms and wanting more. More, because the limit was never enough, more, because you couldn’t get enough of Yoongi, more, because you couldn’t get enough of Jungkook, more, because you liked pain and nothing mattered but Yoongi lowering you onto Jungkook’s chest. More. Whimpering as the cock slipped out of you, but there was nothing to worry about as Yoongi held the condom down and Jungkook lifted you easily, bringing your hard nipples to his waiting, insatiable mouth.

“Look at me.”

Your vision was hazy and saturated with lust, gazing down into those wicked eyes.

“You’re even more beautiful tied up.”

You felt Yoongi fit his knees around Jungkook’s waist and felt him slide into you, hard and getting harder, ripped-open condom packet scraping against your knee, your lashes fluttering at the girth or was it Jungkook’s lips on your chest, sensitive and overstimulated, losing yourself in the rising intensity. Lost in the way every brutal thrust pitched you forward and tugged your aching nipples in between Jungkook’s teeth and his pinched fingers, in the way one of Yoongi’s hands gripped your ass and the other slapped it, stinging open palm across your skin causing you to nearly scream, needles of hurt weaving into blinding bliss, your bound forearms straining against black velvet, so g-good, so good you threw your body back into Yoongi’s hard cock, amplifying it all. This was not for everyone but it was all for you, moans and pants and low hiss, shivers and sucking and spanks, wet, filthy, loud, possessed by explicit feral lust.

Clawing for the purity of pleasure in the most impure of ways.

“Cum, now.”

Yoongi growled with just the right inflection of menacing and visceral want. All you had been holding back burst, fucked-out cry straight to the ceiling and your core snapping, your pussy throbbing and drenching Yoongi’s twitching cock with your release, your cum soaking onto his thighs, clinging everywhere. Your knees gave out, sinking down and smearing your sweet-sour stickiness onto Jungkook’s abs, his lustful groan heating your collarbones, hot and heavy, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, racing pleasure shooting up and down your prickling limbs.

“Y-Yoongi… m-my…”

Could barely communicate, let alone breathe, but Yoongi was experienced, immediately tugging at the knots, practically ripping the seams. Less than a second and your arms were freed, into Jungkook’s waiting hands, gently coaxing your sore muscles with massaging fingertips, pressing his lips to your shaking throat.

“Shhh…”

It was not always important to say the right thing.

Sometimes the right touch said such much more than what could be held in quotation marks.

You felt Jungkook’s tongue tracing, leaving a wet line on your skin. Tipped your head down. Eye to eye, dark brown orbs glittering underneath his wild hair. Black diamonds framed by onyx curls, a ferocity refined, and he captured your lips again, your sigh eaten by his hunger, righting your knees once again as you heard the rip of another foil packet, reaching back to spread your ass.

Below, the crowd cheered, botanical confetti raining down amongst the bodies as midnight struck.

Yoongi slid into your tight ass as Jungkook thrust his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands snaking down between your bodies, harshly rubbing your clit with every rough thrust, and it must be nice to be surrounded in materialism, all those pretty lights, pretty garments, pretty faces, must be nice but not as nice as orgasming while being choked by Jungkook’s inked hand and Yoongi burying his cock as deep as possible into your ass as he came with you, every twitch another tingling wave, every pulse a reminder that you were alive and feeling it.

There you were.

High above, messy hair, rolled-back eyes, open mouth and strangled moan, lost in the pleasure of your chosen pain.

Jungkook grinned, his silver lip ring gleaming in the dark.

“Pretty.”

masterpost

#yoonkook x reader #bts smut #yoonkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoonkook x you #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

Text

S E 7 E N : A F T E R MA T H P A R T 2 W O

OMG you guys i almost gave up bc tumblr (this time) had erased a huge part of my draft towards the end right as i was typing and about to post.......yo......i did the best i could to retype what i could remember and salvage it. it's still good though...just....soooo annoying. anyhow, part 3 is in the works!

um...bc of the retyping, alot of this is not proofread......also some of this was typed up in my phone and i tend to fat finger some of the keys, so please excuse all of that.

Warnings: just mentions of smut, like D in P smut, nothing too crazy. Lots of fluff type things. heheheheheh.

Walking amongst the wild red floral ground, your foot steps are soft and soundless. You admire the view of the moon, as you always have while you take in the landscape of your home.

Peering up at the peak of the mountain, where your throne sits next to his, you could have flown to the top and made the trip last only seconds, yet it seemed like a night for a walk. Up the stairs, you take one delicate step after another, reminiscing everything that took place within the last year.

The time went by rather fast, yet all the events that led you to becoming fully immortalized and the aftermath of everything was ingrained in your mind with all the details punching the imagery into your vision. No matter how much time would pass, you’ll always remember the finer lines of each occurrence.

You gracefully walked up each step, delicately and nearly levitating. Even with your wings lying dormant into your own being, your body still experienced amazing leaps and advanced movement.

The business-casual attire you adorned for the mortal realm gradually shifts into different material and form as it extends to the stone ground, developing high slits to expose your legs, the way he likes it. As far as your husband was concerned, the more skin showing for you, the better it was for him. He often vocalized how he loved to see nothing but every inch of your bare nudness…he only wanted to see you. Just you.

Only you….

With the ability to shape-shift your clothing, you dawned the dress he liked on you the most, stating that other than your nude body, the dress he picked out for your to wear in many variations was what made you looked fitting for your title as a Goddess, therefore, if you absolutely felt strongly about clothing yourself, he prefers you wear the dresses he outlined for you.

“My Queen…..you look so beautiful when you wear nothing….but if you have to wear something, I want you to wear these. You’re a Goddess…the child of my former master, therefore you should always look like it…my beautiful girl.”

The flowing dress develops a beige and champagne color. Of all the materials and colors of the dresses with similar pattern, he loved this particular one the most. The dress continues to grow in length, and shifts into a transparent, chiffon material, with a sheer corset-structured bodice that was entirely see through, showing the subtle color and form of your breasts with the twinkling jeweled piercings shining through the mesh element. He also loved that about this gown.

With only the loose straps that hang over your arms loosely, the tightness of the bodice hugs your upper body, stabilizing the true fit, all wrapped with floral lace as the skirt flows wide and freely, making you look like a princess or, a goddess, but far from the goddess of Hell.

You continue to make your way up, gently brushing your hair aside to reveal your collar bones and the skin on your chest. Your dress drags along each step, trailing behind your footprints. You remained barefooted with only the ankle bracelets that he gifted you, among the other pieces of subtle jewelry he decorated your body with.

You took your time delicately walking up towards the peak of the mountain top, yet with your enhanced stamina and lucrative speed, you were reaching the top in no time despite the stairway being miles long. Any other being, whether they emerged from Heaven or Hell, could never travel this far by foot without succumbing to the effects of fatigue, even if it was minor. No demon nor Angel would be able to do what you could do, since you not only shared the same soul as God himself, but you also share the split soul of the one who had taken your mortal life, and blessed you with his own, the Devil himself, Heeseung.

Near the top, you see the pillars that decorated the entire peak, the entry point of his castle. Despite having his own kingdom, his throne, along with yours, was stationed outside, in front of the structured palace, since the view was far better with the red poppies and the glorious moon as the primary features. Of course with the earth off to the West side of the palace, it was an added bonus for whenever you witness the rotation of continents.

A year ago…..

Watching the earth rotate, you watch as each continent on display shifts in rotation, taking turns to relish in in the day, as others sleep at night. Your body had nearly adjusted entirely as you discover the new abilities you’ve gained, laying atop of the platform, the lush velvet fabric comforting your nudeness, the chained cuff delicately wrapped around your ankle, holding a power that, despite its frail appearance, held the strength of immense steel links and restrained you from leaving the parameters of the peak.

Laying on your stomach and chest, your knees propping your feet high as you playfully swing them back and forth, you play with the fortune spheres that he brought in for you. Reflecting the images of the world you no longer belonged to, you were able to examine the visual imagery of your family and the people on their road to recovery. Similar to the Northern Lights, the spheres reflect off a small projection of the scenes, people, and locations you wanted to see.

As you admired the sight that the spheres projected, your only avenue outside of Hell, you overhear him issue out a deep chuckle as he admired you while you focused on the scenes displayed by the spheres.

Through the miracle of time, you gained more comfort as you took advantage of the slack you had with the ankle chain, and moved around. He’d watch as you get up and stretch your wings, flaring them in their full glory as you stand off to the side of his throne, or when you perched yourself atop one of the large pillars and gazed at the stars directly above.

...............

“Let’s go for a walk, pretty.”

Knowing that a change of scenery would be much appreciated, a snap of his fingers and the ankle chain would disintegrate into particles of of atomic value, allowing you to walk freely with him through the fiery red poppies he grew.

Hand in hand, he’d lead you through a delicate made path, allowing you to reach out and graze your fingertips along the petals, or pick them to your hearts content.

He’d take you to the Pond of Sacred Sin, a tranquil body of water paired with a soothing waterfall, where the water was granite black. Walking barefoot into the pond, cupping the dark liquid in your hands as the material of your dress flows to the surface, you subtly play as you splashed and decorated the pond with the poppies you picked. Despite the water eluding the silver black color, your hands and dress were wet with translucent drops, not at all stained. It was a remarkable feature, everything was. Hell, was remarkable. At least he made it that way….for you.

Watching you kicking your bare feet as the loose petals all twirled around, carried by the breeze that dragged them towards you, he took in the delight of seeing you become relaxed and losing the timidness that you initially displayed upon situating to your new home.

There were even some days, where you opted to remain nude as the velvet cushion of your bedding felt soothing against your skin. You would sit yourself in between his feet, wrapping your arm around his calf as he sat in a relaxed position in his throne, peering his gaze down at you.

Lifting your hair, he’d stroke his fingers through as you rested your head against the side of his knee, the leather of his knee high boots pressed against the nude skin of your breasts as you felt the sensation of his fingers dragging through your strands, so gently, and so lovingly.

Too lovingly.

There were times, on certain nights when the demons that roamed aimlessly, roared out, submitting their call to the others as they detect your scent, yearning to devour you. Sensing your presence nearby, the demons would escalate their pace, trying to get to you, and once they did, they would meet their brutal demise as Heeseung would slaughter them effortlessly before they could even reach you.

Yet their calling was unsettling, it would frighten you to hear in the wide open air, not being able to detect which direction it came from or how close they were, yet he would always know, and was more than ready to shred them. Regardless that you were immortal and gained special abilities of your own, you were still learning how to use them, despite knowing and understanding this, there was no way Heeseung would ever allow you to sully your hands or leave you to fend for yourself. HE was your protector. HE was always going to save you. HE loved you. HE worshipped you. HE would do anything for you. HE.....would always give you everything, while keeping you isolated and only obtainable, by only him.

Upon waking up and hearing their roars, you’d get up and let the black, transparent material that was loosely wrapped around your waist by a gold chain, drag against the stone tiles as you walked up to his throne. With nothing adorning your upper body, along with the high slits aligned with each leg, your breasts and the upper portions of your thighs were completely exposed. You resembled a fairy, wrapped with tattered mesh and adorned with ancient jewelry.

You not only continued to be, but you were absolutely stunning, always taking his breath away whenever he watched you stand and expose your entire form in front of him.

Taking merely six steps over to his direction, he’d tilt his head and look up when you breached his chair before him, and watch as you gently sit atop his lap, which he delightfully embraced and assisted you in as he cradled you and let your breasts lay against his chest.

You’d rest your chin atop his head as he nuzzled against your chest plate, reaching up and rubbing your neck as he places sweet and delicate kisses over your skin, all the while your hands would find their way and relax on his shoulders, gripping the material of his knee length coat whenever the demons would roar out again.

It didn't matter how often they would cry out in a devouring and frightening manner, he was always there, admiring you and ready to protect you. Sensing that you were comfortable enough to initiate physical contact, he started to lay next to you more often and cradle you in his arms, easing your frightened state as he stroked your back while you slept.

“Niki.”

“I’m here.”

“Set the entire river aflame, burn the entire lot of the darkened souls, and set guards to eliminate any that survive and escape. They’re drawn to her. That's why they keep wandering around.....they're looking for her.”

Laying atop the platformed bed, you overhear the conversation Heeseung had with the youngest brother as he calmly instructs him to destroy the Rivery Styx, thus ending the torment of facing the wandering and hungry demons.

“Their screams are what’s scaring her. Get rid of all of them for me, will you?”

“Consider it done.”

He was too enamored by your presence to think of setting the river aflame sooner, yet once he had Niki burn out the entire region of the River Styx, there were no more demons roaming around, completely easing your conscious.

Tracing the trail of stars in the sky, he’d guide your fingers to outline the patterns of the galaxies and constellations, a routine that happens every single night.

You never thought it would happen, but as time went by, you start to feel more comfortable around him. Since you spent every second of your life with each other, it was bound to happen, yet initially, you had told yourself to never falter and to remain alert, always finding hope that you'd return to the world you were born in. However, time has a way of changing minds and hearts of people, you were not an exception. You did change your mind and your heart in regards to him.....and he loved what he saw.

Developing a familiar nature around him, you no longer felt uncomfortable by his constant stares, his watchful eyes as he gasps and breathed deeply out of lust whenever you did anything, whether it was shifting your position or blinking. Heaven forbid if you smiled or laughed, that drove him over the edge to the point where you found yourself under him again, sometimes multiple times in a day, where he would render you at the mercy of his love, rough or gentle, whatever he was in the mood for.

To avert your attention from the boredom of just laying around all day, you played peekaboo with him. Lurking from behind his throne, and peeking over from the side, over his shoulder, you would chuckle and laugh whenever he glanced at you with a delightful side eye and smirk as he'd catch you by a gentle grab on your neck, and swing you over on to his lap where he smothered you with soft and passionate kisses, all the while you giggling and teasingly try and push him away, only to witness him looking down at you with a joyful smile and a lovesick gaze.

One event where you were playing the game, you surprised him...and yourself, by displaying a sudden notion.

It was the moment, where you snuck around to the side of his throne, and quickly snuck a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Perhaps it was the feeling of being too comfortable, or maybe it was Stolkholm Syndrome, either way, you felt elated when it happened as you witness the wide eye'd smile he developed as he slightly gasped and took you out of joy.

Thats when you knew.....you developed love for him....the love that he so yearned for in return, it was now finally here.

All the moments of him slaying the demons, serving and protecting you....

Or the way his black hair laid slightly parted off to the side as he stared at you....sometimes raising a brow whenever he found himself overwhelmed by your appearance.

Maybe it was his deep and low voice whenever he leaned in and moaned into your ear whenever he filled you up with his essence, and marked you as his territory.

"I'm cumming.....fuck."

Maybe it was just him....

Whatever the reason was, you were drawn to him just as he was drawn to you. Before you knew it, you became less tense and more open, developing transparent conversations with him and getting to know more about each other, causing you to build an emotional connection, since he already had one with you. Despite already belonging to him....and physically being ravished by him a hundred times over, you had stonewalled any mere thought of developing a bond with Heeseung.....but when you decided to tear that wall down, you found your days and nights filled with smiles and laughter, no longer crying and begging him to send you back to live with mortals....to have your freedom and your old life back.

His vigor and thirst for sexual interaction was unlike anything you've ever seen. He yearned to be one with you constantly, and never thought twice in taking you, even if you had initially objected. He would be forceful, restraining, and isolate you under his frame, knowing that just a matter of time of him entering, he'd have you moaning out his name, gripping onto his arms and biting your lip for more.

And he'd give it......so much more.

The sexual passion never lost potency, yet there were nights where he maintained the rough and domineering nature of his vigor, and then there were some nights where he, while still maintaining ultra dominance, would be softer and more sensual. He would slowly thrust, going in deep….so deep.

“I love you….more than you’ll ever know…”

He would whisper against your lips, all the while holding you up, cradling your bottom as your legs wrap around his waistline, crossing over against his lower back. Both your wings in full display, flaring out in full expansion, his black and your Nacre white, contrast from one another in perfect harmony. Then the time finally came, where you took the initiative and walked over to his seat, straddled him, and expressed your yearning for him. He was so delighted, that he took a moment to close his eyes and gulp down a few breaths as he rested his forehead against your chest plate, trying to ease down his level of happiness for he didn't want to ruin the sensual moment that you were displaying, along with the comfort of riding his thighs.

He finally had you.....just as you had him.

It didn't matter if he had already expressed your meaning and value, he could have said it earlier, wait five minutes, and say it again and his words would come out just as sincere and strong....if not stronger.

Sometimes, he would say it in various languages, both the ancient and the modern dialect, knowing that since you were adjusting to immortality, you'd instinctively would be able to translate, it was part of your abilities, as was his. He claimed that due to not having enough words in just one language to express his love, he felt the need to speak in multiple, never finding it enough to make you feel what he felt.

"How can I make you understand your worth to me? You're better than the five senses.....you're my everything."

"Tu clarior es quam mundus .... Universum es sole et luna pulchrior. Non est res non faciam tibi." (Latin Roman; translation: "You are more than the world….the universe….you are brighter than the sun and more beautiful than the moon. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for you.")

"أنت حلم كل إله." (Arabic; translation: "You are every god's dream.")

"So etwas wie eine jährliche Blüte gibt es nicht mehr. Deine bloße Anwesenheit vertreibt voller Scham alle Blumen." (German; translation: "There is no such thing as a yearly bloom…not anymore. Your very presence shuns all the flowers away in shame.")

"Kapatid niya na sumisimbolo sa krus....at anak ng pinakahuling lumikha...ang hindi ko ibibigay na makita kang nakangiti sa buong kawalang-hanggan." (Tagalog; translation: "Sister of he who symbolizes the cross….and daughter of the ultimate creator…what I wouldn't give to see you smile for all eternity.")

"나는 단 하나의 이야기를 알고 있습니다....고대 세계의 아름다움, 암사자의 힘, 장미 꽃잎의 부드러움을 지닌 여성의 이야기입니다. 그녀는 하나님이 바라셨던 모든 것, 마귀가 원했던 모든 것입니다. 무엇보다도 그녀는 땅을 따뜻하게 하는 빛이요, 부정한 자들을 씻는 비요, 사람들을 먹여 살리는 열매입니다. 그녀는 생명을 낳는 숨이요 생명을 유지하는 공기입니다. 나에게 .... 그녀는 전부이고 훨씬 더 많습니다.." (Korean; translation: "I only know of one story….of a woman who carries beauty of the ancient world, strength of a lioness, and tenderness of a rose petal. She is everything that God had hoped for, and everything the Devil had wanted. Above all, she is the light that warms the earth, the rain that washes the unclean, and the fruit that feeds the people. She is the breath that gives birth, and the air that sustains life. To me….she is all and so much more.")

To my former master.....

It's been a while.....who am I kidding? It's been four eternities, yet here I am.

Just what were you thinking? When you created her...molded her....and made her the way you did. Knowing full well that she was to suffer the fate of being imprisoned in Hell, sacrificed to appease your people and to allow them to live in peace and harmony.

You knew what I would do to her...once I had found her...saw her...and took her. You knew....then again, you are God. Of course you knew. There was nothing that any of the muses or angels could say to change your mind, knowing full well that, despite me loving her.... my love is far from kind and humane.

I keep her....I chain her to my throne.....I feast her by day, and devour her by night. I ravish her with the torment of my touch, and burn her with my tongue. Yet, my love is the purest form of love that any one could ever experience. No man, woman, angel, demon, muse, or even you....YOU will never understand the love I have....the love I feel. Ironic, considering that was the whole reason in your creation.....of 'people.'

"Why is he doing this? What is the reason, Master Elder? Does he have any idea...any moral thought of what is going to happen?"

"It is his will to create people Heeseung, and it is his wish that we support our devotion and loyalty to his will."

"I cannot. People will grow harmful and do deeds that are beyond evil. You know that just as well as I do. They will destroy the world that I gifted him, torment each other and slaughter their own kind."

"We must abide by his will, Heeseung. There is a reason for his creation of people. Even though you, your brothers, and all of the angels in his kingdom are his dearest creations, and love him, there is a love that you cannot understand without people. They will be the ones to teach us. That is the purpose of their sole existence. We must aid him on this quest, and provide guidance and nurture people. Just wait and see, Heeseung.....without people.....we cannot learn the love that he wants us to understand."

"Then stand by him on your own. For if he chooses to not heed my words, then I will take my leave and depart from his palace gates."

"What you're saying is treachery against his holy spirt, do not say things so likely Heeseung."

"I do not care, nor do I approve of his decision."

"Heeseung, wait! Come back! Do not abandon your duties as the first and most beloved arch angel!"

"Perhaps I acted out of haste....but so did you. Tell me, how in the world did you ever think of creating such a sight to behold? Her eyes, her nose, her lips, her skin, her face, her body.....her spirit. How do you feel? Knowing that I had taken the piece of you...the light and flesh out of you......and do all these things that makes it scream.....makes her scream. Things that you and your guardians all find and deem as terrible. Yet it is all out of love.....the purest love that is known to mankind.

Your very own spirit.......your only daughter...your mortal daughter....is the Goddess of Hell....my queen....my wife.....mine. Even though this is what you intended for her, to give her up in exchange for the freedom and prosperity of your creation....your 'people'......what will you do now? I had wondered....how will you manage and take care of your mortal creation? There is nothing you could create that will surpass her. With all of your angels dead by each of my brother's hands, and your only archangel deathly drifting in pieces on the surface of the sea at my discretion, how will you manage your people? For now that you're soul is split into two?.....But then I am reminded.....so is mine. Clever old man, you saw that, didn't you? You knew.....you knew just what I was going to do once I saw her.....and took her. The love I have for her.....its sickening and drives me mad.....yet I could never even think of life without her...I wouldn't dare to live a single day of it without her.

Some might think you brought out your trump card too early, yet I feel you didn't bring her out early enough. All those years.....painfully waiting for her to come.....

You have any idea....any moral sense in just what you have done?....You created this amazing form of flesh, blood, and two souls.....knowing that for the longest time, she cried, she begged, she yearned to be away and escape my grasp. You probably heard her cries, and yet, you do not feel sorry....because you knew that this is what she was meant for. To teach and show me....that love for which you created people for.

I used to harbor such hatred and rage against you....I felt betrayed and hurt.....was it anger that kept me going all those years? Perhaps...yet the moment I found out of her....it was only she who had kept me going. She kept me breathing. She kept me from destroying the very thing you loved, and I loathed. How interesting and ironic, old man.

Were you really that afraid of me? That you had to outdo yourself and take out a piece of your own flesh to gift me.......the very thing that I was wanting to destroy. That flesh...that light....that spirt......I wanted to crush it....torture it......and burn it....

Now that I finally have it, I've done nothing but protect, love, and nurture it. I have admired it....taught it the ways of immortality.....

Is it ever a wonder, why I was so eager once I finally had her in my grasp? Could you or any of your muses blame me? I waited so long to have her.....I couldn't control myself.....even though she was going to spend an eternity with me, it pained me....to great extent, when I killed her mortal spirit.....and gave her half of mine. Your piece of light...forever tainted in half by my own....killed off and dimmed by my burning soul. I guess in a way....I got exactly what I had wished for.

I no longer think of you, in aspects of either good or evil.....I do not care anymore. I have a piece of you......and a piece of me......I have angels and demons....Heaven and Hell.....Gods and Kings.....I have both, black and white.....

I have her......

Authors Note: YOooooooo...tumblr had me in ruins because the original note (heelel's mental note to God) was erased when i was type it in the post......i nearly died yall......fortunately i remembered most of it (......most) and retyped it. But onto more important things, stand by for part 3! i will have it out in a day or two. Part 3 will be the finale for this chapter and series....gah....i'm almost in tears.

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz@mimimovv@stvrryhee

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