#and maybe a little spooped?

[spoopyandtired]

but actually art is everywhere and in everything (including you)

[thebunnyslibrary]

In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people.  Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

                “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

                “Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

                “No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

                “Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

                “Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

       ��        “I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

                Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

                “That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

                “Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

                “My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

                “What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

                “Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.             

                “That’s…. you’re not…”

                “Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

                “If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

                “I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him.  His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

                “If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

                “Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

                “How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

                “Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

                “I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

                As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance.  The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

                “I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

                “I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself.  He paused and smiled.

                “In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

                “It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

                “Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

                It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

                “I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

                “Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

                “Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

 His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways.  “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

                “No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

                “No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

                “I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

                 He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

                “When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

                “Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

                “Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

                “Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

                “Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

                “I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.   

                “Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

                “I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

                “Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

                “Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

                Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

                “Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

                “How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else.  You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

                “Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

                “You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

                “Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

                “Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him.  He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

                “Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

                “When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

                “Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

                “If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

                “Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said. 

                Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

[kippykasey]

Smile to Remember

Summary: Taking your daughter trick or treating helps forget about the divorce but so does that smile.

Word Count: 1042

Character: Reader (might be suggested to be F), Reader's daughter, Dean

More Spoops from Kippy's Spoopy Saturday's

The halls were bare. The house wasn’t decorated like the other homes on the street for the scary holiday. Maybe it was because this house was not yet a home. No, it was filled with what little was left after the crushing divorce for someone you had shared years with and started a family with. The child, your darling little girl, was for once not wearing the normal frown on her face that had become such a normal sight during the duration of the divorce. No, for once she was a ball of sunshine as excitement bubbled out of her. After all she was about to drag her mother to every house in the neighborhood. The same neighborhood that you had grown up in and attended high school in.

Your daughter skipped over to where you sat on the floor working on fixing the tiara that she accidentally broke by putting her princess costume on too early. She plopped the cheesy, purple witch hat onto your head.

“Is it done yet mommy? I see kids outside.” She asks rocking on the balls of her feet.

You look up at the clock on the wall to see it was only four minutes passed the start time of the local trick-or-treating time. It was going to be a long night, you deemed at once in that moment. Yet you would do anything for your girl so walking around the fake grave yard, spider web infested, overpriced Halloween decorated homes to get her some candy that you couldn’t budget in at the moment, well it just seemed worth it all the more.

“Almost. Go put your shoes on and get your bag for the candy.” You tell the girl as you hold the pieces in place so the glue sets.

The girl runs off and returns as you get off the ground. Together you make your way out of your small home, a house you remembered to once belong to a nice old woman with a beautiful garden. You guided your little girl up and down the sidewalks, to and from homes, and knocking on doors when she got too shy to do so herself.

Maybe an hour into walking the neighborhood you reached the house that your parents once owned and keeled down to your little girl. “This is the house mommy lived in when she was little. You know that little scare on my arm? I got it from falling out of that tree right there.” You point to the tree in the front yard that currently was wrapped in fake spiderwebs with plastic spiders hanging from the branches.

“You lived here? Whoa!” The little girl grinned and then swiftly pulled you up the walkway of the house. The home now was owned by a young couple and they had a dog that your daughter eagerly asked to pet, forgetting about the candy.

As you entered the opposite side of your neighborhood your mind drifted to memories of a bright smile, green eyes, and a black Impala. Your daughter surprisingly was not yet tired, or maybe it was the beginning of a sugar high. She was skipping along next to you pointing to housed she wanted to go to.

“Alright princess,” You sighed to your self the day starting to weigh on you. “Time to head on home.”

Your daughter instantly began to whine. “Not yet. One more, please? Pretty please mommy.” She looked up at you with wide eyes and a pouted lip, her hands clasped together.

You smile slightly and nod your head. “Okay. But only one more. We still have a long walk back home.”

The bright smile spread across the little girls face as she grabbed your hand and quickly dragged you up the narrow path up to the porch of the next home that was decorated simply with carved pumpkins, scarecrows, and orange lights. As you look up at the house there was something familiar about it that tickled the back of your memories but just didn’t register. Your daughter readied her bag as you reached out and knocked on the door. The door opened prompting the ‘trick-or-treat’ to come out of your little princess.

However your eyes locked onto the man who opened the door, a bright crooked grin and shining green eyes. The same eyes and smile that you always think about when you think about the very town you now live in. The same eyes and smile that got you to say ‘yes’ to prom. The eyes and smile of Dean Winchester.

“Well if it isn’t Dean Winchester.” You greet internally cringing at how surprised you sound at seeing him.

“Good to see you too, baby. And what does this little princess want? Chocolate? Skittles?” He chuckles lowly turning from you to your daughter holding out the cauldron of dwindling candy for your daughter to choose from. Your daughter choose her Twizzlers, dropping them into her bag of candy.

“What do you say dear?” You nudge her shoulder glancing at Dean who had yet to drop that breathtaking smile, did he know what it did to you, even after all this time?

“Thank you sir.” The little girl smiled up at him and he dramatically bowed to her.

“You’re welcome your majesty. Would Mother witch like something?” Dean stood back up turning his attention back towards you.

“No thank you.” You shook your head, if you want candy you can always take something from your daughter’s later.

“How about coffee, and a ride in the Impala?” The way he tilted his head, rose an eyebrow just slightly as he tucked the candy cauldron under his arm it brought a smile to your face.

“You drive a hard bargain Winchester. Come by Ol’ Mrs. Roes tomorrow for some hot chocolate and maybe we can have that car ride.” You suggest as you slowly walk backwards with your daughter pulling on your arm.

Dean’s smile was on your mind for the walk home. The same smile that gave you butterflies leaving you feeling like a little kid again. The same smile that was just what you needed to remind you of the happiness left in the world. Or the right person and maybe finally the right time.

[kazukazuhas]

❝ 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 ❞ —- [ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ]

[ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 ]

𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫, 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐮, 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚, 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚, 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨, 𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚, 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞, 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨, 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ;  fairytales of love are always so sweet and beautiful, their premise a sad little story turned on its side into a happier one. love prevails in the end by the charm of a smile or the breath of a kiss, one of which you will get by the last sentence of the story by force or not.

⇢ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; ; each tale is separated between two characters with the same if not similar scenario. the second part will always come after the first, and each part with be dropped in each day of this event. this event will last 14 days.

⇢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; ; @spoopy-fish-writes // @spoops-inliyue ;; @decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite // @shaantiofher ;; @sunangelstears

❝ 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; the night finally swindled into the shiny lights and the music lowered but just above everything, everyone else. a warm hand held yours softly as he gazed lovestruckly, eyes soft with his love and you take your first step together as a married couple.

❝ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐮 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; eyes of adoration stare up onto the balcony you looked over to watched with fond eyes back. though your love a thing unspoken of and forbidden by the blood of your nobility, you could never part from the person who brought such joy into your life. maybe today is the day you leave for the rest of your life with your dearest by your side.

❝ 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐢 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; appaulled by the sudden marriage proposal accepted by your parents at you did not want in the first place, the public outlash you display to your family alerts a familiar face who happens to be the perfect help. perhaps they knew because how would they not if they asked for you to take their hand in the others place instead.

❝ 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐠 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; its an odd thing, you think, how a princess of such beauty and power fell in love with a normal person working a dreadful shift at the little quiet restaurant you worked in. she's perfect and you're not enough, but she thinks she's found the frog to her princess.

❝ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; quiet is the sound of nature, soft and innocent. you swore the sound of the resting the land around could've lulled you to the land of dreams, and the thumping of his heart against your ear didn't help you stay awake.

❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; jumping into the shopping cart with a round of giggles and half laughs, while the love of your life pushed the cart through the near empty aisles of the store filled your heart will love and joy. moments like these fill your brain like a plague of adoration for them, you really do love the shits out of them for your life.

❝ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 ❞ 𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 [ 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 [ 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 ]

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; a crown on your head is tilted and the stains on your clothes are smudged paints, you're dying of laughful with your lover as your accompanying royal spouse. here comes the undead royalty, hand in hand until bone is dust.

𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙚𝙩𝙘. 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙧. 𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙝𝙖𝙨 2023

[bccksmarts]

mini vent thing just ignore this; it’ll just clear my chest off and HOPEFULLY give me some sort of peace of mind!!

Just typing helps relieve some of this weird tension that’s been building in my chest so please don’t think this is toward absolutely anyone because it isn’t whatsoever!!

kinda just feeling like I’m just sat here twiddling my thumbs most days. I’ve got threads to crack on with, plots to develop and all that good stuff but as soon as I see ONE thing, the love just absolutely dies??

I hate that it does, and I think it’s been that way for a while. It’s dumb, and I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do, but I do. A crap feeling of anxiety and being shoved aside for the next and new best thing which I know IS NOT the case at all, and I normally hardly ever get this type of feeling. Everyone’s portrayals are so vast and different to each other and that’s so welcoming to me, and I really love to see it!! I do!! It’s so refreshing and inspiring??

So I shouldn’t at all feel like I’m being brushed under a rug, because I know overall that I’m not. I just don’t know how to budge the feeling; it makes me feel icky and gross and I don’t like it at all, like the feeling that my threads with people no longer actually matter / are wanted and that SUCKS. Again, before anyone starts kicking off: I know that isn’t the case!! Anxiety just sucks and I WISH it’d just piss off!!

Mayhaps I just need a refresher; music, chill vibes, go into my drafts with an open mind that everything is fine and nothing has changed, because it hasn’t. I’ve got things planned with people that I’m really looking forward to, that I’m really excited for!!

Sometimes I feel like I HAVE to withdraw myself when it comes to any sort of negative or iffy feelings because it’s just how it’s always been, and I hate putting my shite feelings in front of someone else cause the last thing I want to do is bother someone with something so small that just isn’t necessary. I don’t usually like to vent; it isn’t my thing. Maybe it’s why I’m spooped to get close to people too?? If my feelings over something so crap and little ever pushes someone away unintentionally; that fear is so good damn terrifying to me and it’s probably why I hardly message people or I see a message, think I’ve responded when I haven’t at all. And I’m not saying I don’t feel close to some of you because I do!! I might not say it much ( again, anxiety’s a bitch ) but I genuinely do feel so close to some of you that it isn’t even funny. How special some of you have made me feel this past year is incredible and I can’t thank you enough for it. 💕

It’s something I wanna try and improve on. Trust myself and those around me and not feel like I have to bottle everything up all the time. I’ve been trying, and I thought I was doing pretty good, but it’s like it all goes to the wind somehow. I’m not alone, and I’ve got to stop putting myself into this secluded box. 😤

[kalux-sims]

Well...I think I'm done with Hallow-/Simblr-een CC work for the year. (sigh) Of course, the spoop never really leaves me. I've had the Glam Reaper flashing their undies as my profile image for like 13 months now. I'll still be a little sad returning to "normal" CC work.

I am planning to update one of my first CC projects of my kaluxsims era, and it has a little spoop to it. Maybe that will be what I work on tonight.

[greetings-movie-goers]

/// SO TODAY IS MY 500 DAY MARK OF BEING THE MOD ON THIS BLOG, AND I JUST WANT TO SAY, THANK YOU SO MUCH, OMG!!!

thank you so much for all of the love that Julian and I have gotten, the HHN advice for when I got overstimulated by big noise (lol), the love for my pets, and for creating so many lovely stories with me over these past 500 days, that I will cherish for a long time to come.

I have met so many great people on here, including but not limited to, @oughtabeinpxctures @spoop-doll @jack-the-clown @thecarnivalofcarey @resurrextion @runchainsaw @deadxtalks @distorted-rp @hhnforeversblog @captainkelsohub @violetxsilverxstark @monsters-and-mayhem

And a special thank you to @clownqueenofcarnage for inspiring me to create this blog. I don’t think you’re up and running any of your HHN blogs rn, but thank you so much for inspiring me, and taking me under your wing when I first joined this wonderful community.

Maybe as a little special things, I might give a Halloween Horror Nights first timer’s tip list, from someone who just went for the first time, with a ranking of HHN 31’s houses!!! If there’s something else that you’d rather see, or want to see along with it, please let me know!!!!

I love you all, thank you for a wonderful 500 days,

- Mun Vinn

[darckcarnival]

Get To Know The Mun!

> BASICS! ♡

NAME: Spoop, Splat, D, Darck (peeps usually call my my main muses names except Spoop, I am the spoopiest.)

PRONOUNS: Any! I merely exist.

ZODIAC SIGN: Sagittarius/Capricorn

TAKEN OR SINGLE: Single but married to food.

> THREE FACTS! ♡

Have been writing since the 90's when I was a wee child. Did silly little roleplaying on mIRC, on some forums, and deviant art back in the day there after. Then became a fanfic writer for a while, followed by poems which I was quite good at back in the day. Then began making lyrics- figured nah, not for me. And flipped full circle back into roleplaying once more with some drabbles and maybe a one shot fic here and there. Have been writing ever since! So I have a LOT of history under my belt. And many of my muses have the same type of dedication and time behind them. Gotta put as much love into your character and writing, as if they were your own family. Make them feel alive.

Most art I do is either writing, 3D model modification items, or just with a mouse and keyboard art. I have been practicing more with a gifted tablet and pen, which has allowed me to do more detailed and serious mod work, such as mods for RE4 classic! But I am much better at texture, 3D, or coloring and shading. But heres the fun fact: i learned all my 3D and texture work skills through Second Life before anything else. And it's actually, funny enough, helped me bring muses to life as well as follow up on how to mod other games and go hog wild.

Been struck by lightning twice, fell down two different cliffs, hit by a semi truck, shot with a carbon arrow in the chest, stabbed, shot by bullet, and so on- and yet here I stand. Most of these events were completely accidental as well, and I walked away from. Honestly? I'm just a walking glitch in the matrix of the world, considering I also glitch every single god damn game I touch. THIS IS NOT A JOKE, NO MATTER HOW NEW IT IS, I BREAK IT.

> EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED: AIM, Yahoo Messenger, DA chat, so many FORUM's back in the day. Skype, Discord, Tumblr.

PLOTTING / WINGING IT / MEMES: Geez, I can roll with just about anything. Plotting? Hell yeah count me in! Plots may not always follow the idea one hundred percent, but it absolutely makes for longer events and threads easily. Winging it? I do that all the damn time and can create so many unexpected events, as well as sudden character development. Twists and turns that just wing a rough idea into something wild. As for Memes and asks? Oh those can still form some really good interactions, character developments or knowledge acquiring moments. Sometimes these are one offs or long drabbles- but they can form into something longer and more serious. However, while I am down for all of the above-- I also have bad ADHD and writing can be hard, so it could take a while.

> MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER: I can write just about any gender character, manage things in between or none. However I am more comfortable with female centric style muses. And yet, you put large men in my hands, and watch them go hog fucking wild. And don't even get be started on Robots or Monsters.

MULTI OR SINGLE: I have done both, but usually prefer single muse blogs. And yet I absolutely love my megaman multimuse to death! All my robot children and heathens there, so much work in my own verse there. So many thoughts. But multimuse blogs can still be difficult to keep organized with so much going on in the braincell, and with life being as it is, need to take breaks from it.

LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S): Not sure what this means for least favorite here, does it mean people, or genre? I really don't mind one way or another. Especially when it comes to OC's, it's hard to find anyone who fits just right for people. And honestly I do not mind one way or another for people. If it fits someones muse, that's fine by me.

> FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡

FLUFF: THE GOOD SHIT HELL YEAH. I'm down for fluff so long as it isn't like... Hollow and forced. Fluff can be used as a great comfort option,. be it platonic, familial, friendly, or even romantic. Fluff can be used in so very many ways, and it's always an option withy me. But this can also turn into angst easily with my cursed hands, you have been warned. As well as comedic timing, since Darck needs to make a laugh to make herself comfortable. Darck has... problems.

ANGST: My bread and butter this one, much to the dismay of many of my friends who write with me. The muse on this blog is made of angst and pain and terrible events that have formed her into who she is. Angst can become violence, woe, heavy conversation, as well as venting- it's such a key part of development. There is a saying I quite enjoy: Muses are like geodes. Shiny, pretty, and in order to see what they are really made of, you must break them. I do admit however that I have a limit of how far I can go to a degree, with real life being a thing, but honestly? It takes a whole fucking lot to get there. And also maybe write angst too much and tragedy. Give this muse some better days.

SMUT: As much as I have enjoyed smut in the past, I haven't written such in a very long time, and am very careful of whom I write such with. Turns out I really good at smut according to others. And hey fun fact: People used to straight up pay me to write them smut of their characters and others of their choice. Haven't had that going in years but, it was a thing. However these days, writing smut with my muses needs to be more than just the event. It can be an opening for vulnerability, letting someone get close enough and trust them enough, that no one else really gets. Quiet and heavy conversations, the emotions involved. But if I ever do write it again, both my self and my partner need to be comfortable with writing such a thing. However if I ever did smut in a private drabble or fanfic, then all bets are off, because that's different. But far more rare.

Tagged by: @valour-bound

Tagging: You see this? IM TAGGING YOU. Do it.

[orchestrahearts]

“I’m scared.” Crutchie to Katherine

spoops.

“Don’t be,” Katherine took Crutchie’s hand, holding it tight. As much as she didn’t like to admit it, she might be a little scared too. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

[thebunnyslibrary]

To Someone From a Warmer Climate

summary. On Halloween night, a storm rages on outside your door. But when the sheriff of the nearby town arrives and reveals his true nature to you, you will be caught in your own storm in desire and fear.

characters. Witch!Reader x Demon!Lee Bodecker

wc. 4.8k

warnings. Non/Dub!Con, Forced Mating/Marriage, Housewife Kink, Threats and Mentions of Violence, Blood.

an. Happy Halloween! Thank you for joining me for my first Halloween Collection.

BunBun’s Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

It was the Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve…Halloween. A storm raged on outside, but you could still feel the moon’s power from behind the clouds. The storm itself actually made you feel calm, content, knowing you were safe for the night in your cozy cabin. You’d put out an extra place setting on your table and even dribbled some candy across it just for fun. You were planning a mute supper of the delicious smelling stew bubbling away in your crockpot (much more convenient than a cauldron, in your opinion).

Cooking was your specialty in magic, infusing spells and potions into food to help absorb them faster, and strengthening the effect. Tonight, you were testing a new potion to infuse with the stew; made to keep you warm and give you strength through the cold winter months. After dinner, you planned to cozy up to by the warm fire and tuck in with a collection of scary stories with some Nina Simone records.

 Suddenly, a loud banging noise outside the door made you jump. At first, you thought it was just the storm, but you heard someone hollering, you rushed and threw open the door, fearing it was some poor lost soul. Instead, there stood a mountain of a man.

Tall and stocky with a wide brim hat doing its best to keep rain off his face where dark blue eyes peered at down at you. Soft pink lips pursed in a thin line were framed by 5 o clock shadow. He wore a black windbreaker with a shiny gold star pinned to his chest. You knew him; Lee Bodecker, the sheriff of the local mortal town just outside the wood.

                “Evening ma’am, may I come in?” Wiping your hands on your sweater and crossing your arms over your chest, you eyed him suspiciously. However, you couldn’t sense anything too malicious about him. You stepped back, letting him enter and watching as he easily crossed your threshold. You knew your dwelling was protected from negative forces. You’d made well and sure of that.

                 “Is there something I can help you with?” you asked as you shut the door, not wanting any trouble and trying to be polite. You knew sometimes the teenagers of the town came into the woods to drink or fuck, especially on Halloween night. You’d hoped the storm would keep them away, but if the sheriff was here, maybe something had happened.

                “Wellness check, ma’am. I got a call from some little old lady that said she knew there was a woman living in the woods. She wanted to make sure you hadn’t been flooded out.” He explained. A smile spread across your lips as you breathed a silent sigh of relief.

 There was a woman whose farm backed up almost into the woods. Since her husband died a year ago, a few times a week you would go and help her with some of the chores; and she would give you milk, eggs, and fruits and veggies from the farm. You would also bring her soup and healing herbs when she was sick. She wasn’t aware of your powers, but always thanked you when she remarkably felt better the next day. Of course she called it in; knowing where your house was after you’d brought her there for tea one afternoon.

                “Well, I appreciate you coming all this way Sheriff-”

                “Lee, please” He interrupted. Your skin bristled a little at the interruption, but you nodded gently at him, knowing mortal men could be a little brash sometimes.

                “Lee.” You continued. “But I really am alright. Can I offer you some tea or something for your trouble? I did just mix up some stew.” You’d heard stories about the sheriff, the town hero, who seemed to always be in the right place at the right time. But you were always suspicious of things that were too good to be true. It was your nature as a witch.

However, the man HAD come all the way into the woods in a storm just for one little old lady’s request.  He must have something resembling a heart, you reasoned. You decided to give him some nice warm, strong, stew and slip a little forgetfulness potion into his coffee; then send him on his way, never to remember this place. You could return to your cozy evening.  No harm done.

                “Coffee would be appreciated if you have it.” Lee requested. “And that stew sure does smell good.”

“Have a seat.” You gestured to the chair at your small round table, only fit to hold 3 chairs, 2 of which already had a place set. Lee sat down at the one without, setting his hat down on the table.

“Can I take your coat?” you offered.

“Thank you kindly.” He took his coat off, handing it to you before setting his hat on the table and sitting across from the set place as you hung his coat by the fire. Going back to the kitchen cupboard and grabbing a mug and a bowl. You shook some grounds into a filter, infusing your forgetfulness spell.

Filling the coffee machine with water, you pressed the buttons and let it brew.  You ladled a healthy serving of stew into the bowl and carefully placed it in front of him. He dug in as you sat across from him and tried to think of anything to say. You never had mortal company, only the nice lady who liked to knit and read, just like you; But Sheriff Bodecker didn’t seem the type to knit. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked you.

                “You uh…live alone out here? You had another place set.” He gestured to the table. “Your husband leave you all alone out here?”

                “Of course not.” You answered and he seemed taken aback. “Well, I mean… I don’t have a husband. But I’m not alone. The animals live out here too. And the plants. And my books.” The burbling of the machine caught your attention. “Do you take anything in your coffee? You asked him as you went to pour it into the mug.

“No thank you, ma’am.” He answered. “This stew is absolutely delicious.”

“Thank you, kindly.” You beamed as you set the mug down in front of him. “And I must admit the place setting is more of…personal thing. It’s a Halloween tradition to set a place for those who you have lost in the past.”

                “That’s mighty sentimental of you. Though I’ve never heard of that one. Where’d you learn that?” Lee asked.

“Oh I uhm. I read about in a book.” You said, technically not lying. You just didn’t mention it was a magic book.

“I see.” Lee looked around the room. “You sure do have a lot of books.”

                “Yes, well, sometimes I find the company of the books better than that of people.” You joked, looking to the coffee and hoping Lee would take a sip soon. You looked back at him but his body suddenly seemed a lot closer, his leg resting between yours, leaning against your right knee.

                “Ah c’mon people aren’t too bad. Look at me for example, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Look at him you did. He was decently handsome. Strong arms and a well-built frame. He was heavier set than other men, but you kind of liked that. You knew food was a comfort and you would rather people knew too much than not enough. Even the face you’d been suspicious of when he arrived had a more homely charm as he slurped up the last of his stew. He took a swig of coffee, then turned to face you fully.

“Mmmmm…damn…That’s the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. And I just love the taste of the forgetfulness potion you added.”  Your heart dropped into your stomach.

                “What did you say?” He didn’t answer, only leaning back in his chair. He blinked and where crystal blue eyes had seemed to make him handsome and rakish; now were two inky black pits. He blinked again and his eyes were human again, but now his irises were crimson red.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’d dealt with a few lower-level demons in your travels, but never someone who you could walk through your house’s defenses so easily. Usually, any malevolent force was neutralized before it even touched your house. But he…he was something darker.

“I’d heard about a pretty witch living out here in the woods.” Lee continued. “Thought it was just another one of them dippy mortals wearing peace signs. But then that little old lady came in, bringing some brownies she said you’d made. And when I tasted them, I knew for sure. There was a real little witch somewhere in town.

“Though it took me a while to find ya, darling. All them wards and runes…you’ve kept yourself pretty well hidden. But when that same sweet little old lady called in, worried about her friend in the woods, I knew I’d found you and here you are. Hidden away from the world, cooking up spells your nose buried in a mountain of books. All that defensive magic and you opened the front door for me and invited me in. Silly girl.” His eyes raked over your body, studying you.

“Damn, you are something pretty. You got a name, sweetheart?” But your lips tightened. You didn’t want to say another word to him, fearing what else he might be hiding. “Oh, come now, darling. I won’t bite.” But his wolfish grin spoke otherwise.

 You told him your name in the strongest voice you could muster, trying to think of a plan to drive him out. As if reading your mind, Lee gently shook his head.

“Now let’s not do anything foolish sweetheart. I don’t want to get too nasty with you.” He warned.

“What-what DO you want then?” you asked. Lee paused for a moment, reaching across the table to grab a piece of candy, unwrapping it slowly and staring into your eyes as he placed the candy in his mouth, licking his lips as he chewed and swallowed.

“Quite frankly, darling…you. You’re clearly pretty good with the magic, and you’d be even more so with a little training. I’ll have all the power I need. See, I’ve been living like a king for years, feeding off the darkness of the souls in this town.”

“Darkness…?” The woman from the farm was always talking about how wonderful the town was, how safe it was…all because of him.

“Oh yes, sweetheart. There is a darkness in this here town. Seems half the people are born just so they can be buried. And I’ve managed to feed off of it for years. You’d be surprised how many people will give truly anything to get what they want. Sometimes they surprise me, just wanting basic mortal shit they could get if they tried a little harder. But some of them want to watch the world burn. They offer their souls and what happens? The town sheriff stops their crimes before they’ve even started. I look like got damn hero and never have to lift a finger.” He grinned wide. “All the praise of the good people feeding my pride. All the sin of the others feeding my powers.”

“But why…why do you need me?” You asked, meekly. His smile faded and his jaw clenched. His steely gaze and making you shiver and squirm in your chair.

“The good people have started to question me. Why I haven’t settled down with a wife...  And if the good people are questioning me, I can’t clean up the filth in the town. See, I’m thinking about a run for state senator, maybe even governor. And the higher up the ladder you climb, the darker people will get. I can’t do that without a little lady with me to keep me in their good graces.” He stood up now, his hand on the table, leaning in close to you, but you managed to shove the chair away and rushed to the sink, grabbing the sharpest knife you had and pointing it at him. But Lee only shook his head and smiled.

“Now what are you gunna do with that, huh? You certainly don’t have it in you to use it” He mocked, stepping closer to you. He let out a low groan. “And that’s exactly why I want you. Your innocence, and your kind heart are exactly what I need. Someone to look good for the town, show off at all the little local town events, and keep my bed warm at night.” He licked his lips. “So, here’s the deal. You keep my bed warm and my stomach full, and I'll keep the town safe; keep being the hero.” He was standing in front of you now; still holding the knife in your trembling hands as you shook your head. Lee reached up, grabbing the knife like it was nothing, and throwing it somewhere.

Blood ran down his hand but he made no move to wipe it off. Instead, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the cabinets behind you, his lips thundering down upon yours in a harsh and punishing kiss. He bit your lip, making you gasp, giving him a chance to force his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes widening as you swore the end of it was forked. When he pulled away, you were gasping for air. He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot on your cheek and neck.

 “Maybe you didn’t understand me clearly in that dumb little brain of yours, but I could ruin this town. Your poor little old lady friend? Out on the street. Your library? Closed. I could stand back and make you watch this town suffer. Or you can be my good little housewife.” He leaned back to look at you, his eyes soulless black pits.

 “Or maybe I'll take you out to the town square. And show them what you really are. Some mortals around here get scared, they start getting jumpy…and pretty scary themselves.” Your breath hitched; you knew some mortals, even as time moved forward, who still got too scared of what they didn’t understand and could get violent quickly. It was one reason you kept yourself hidden. “So, what’s it gunna be, little witch?” You stared back at him, your breathing shallow.

 In a flash of quick thinking, you thought to the holy water in your cabinet, and it manifested in your hand. You managed to dump it on his hands, and he roared in pain, letting you escape. If you could make it to the bedroom, your sacred room, you might be able to ward him out, or at least escape to somewhere else.

You were steps away from the threshold when you were suddenly wrenched back and slammed against the wall. Your hands were pinned above your head and your legs were spread wide. You heard Lee down the hall; his heavy footsteps getting closer and closer until he stood directly in front of you.

                “Tsk tsk tsk. Just couldn’t make it easy could you? But that’s okay, Nothing worth having ever is.”

                “But…how…no other magic works in my space…” you stammered. But he only chuckled, relishing in your fear as you struggled against the bond, studying you like a work of art.

“Seems to me you’re in MY space now.” As you fought to free yourself, you realized he was right; nothing in the house, none of your powers were working. “Now Let’s try that again shall we, sweetheart?” 

                “Please…” you begged. “Please don’t do this.”

                “Oh, come now. It ain’t all bad... A powerful demon husband, access to magics you wouldn’t believe, I can make this so good for you.” He forced his hands up your sweater to run them down over your breasts, one hand stopping to fondle your nipple with his thumb while the other slid into your pajama pants, between your legs and cupping your pussy over your panties and rubbing his ring and middle fingers back and forth.

“Well well, for such a good little witch, you sure are dripping wet for me. I’m must say I’m flattered.” He kissed you with a fire that stirred something dark and twisted within your heart and soul.  Something you ignored as a witch who tried to do only good to others.

“God…please...” Your voice was soft, but Lee heard you growled, his hand going from your breast to grab your hair and force your head back. His voice was soft but dangerous in your ear.

“Trust me sweetheart, Even if he gave a shit about you, there’s not a damned thing he could to stop me. You worship me now. Go on, say my name.”

                “Lee…” you breathed heavily. Your resolve was slowly crumbling as you realized there was no way out of this. And that fear, that resolve, was being replaced with desire. The way Lee looked at you seemed like he wanted to devour you whole should’ve terrified you, but you couldn’t deny how wet you were. You didn’t want to want him, but your whimper gave you away.

                “Yeah, baby? You want something? Go on…beg for it…” he ordered; his fingers moving faster as he kissed down your neck, biting gently in just the right spot to make your toes curl. You let out a low moan. Your breathing was heavy as you spoke.

                “You…you promise you won’t hurt the good people?” You asked, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Lee scoffed with a smirk, staring down at you.  

                “Good people, oh if only you knew…but you’ll learn.” Without another word Lee pulled his fingers from your shorts, making your whine in loss and feeling yourself clench around nothing. Lee snapped his fingers and your clothes were gone.

 Before you could react, he grabbed you, lifted you over his shoulder, smacking your ass then storming into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you two and locking it. He tossed you unceremoniously onto your bed, hardly giving you a moment to breathe before he was on top of you. He leaned over you and his black soleless eyes bore deep into yours.

                “The people in this town are bathed in sin. Just you wait and see.” His gaze softened, his eyes returning to their crimson form. He ran one hand down your cheek, using his thumb to hold your chin and force you to look at him. “But you know what, I think you want something darker… I saw some of those books on your shelves. I think you wanna be a little damsel in distress. And I’m more than happy to oblige.” His hand wrapped around your throat; then he leaned down so his lips were just ghosting against your trembling ones.

“How long have you wanted the touch of a strong man?” Your whimper in response only made him grin wider. “You’re adorable and you reek of loneliness. He kissed you deeply before leaning back to rake his eyes fully over your naked form. “So fucking purty…” he growled. “And you taste sweeter than any mortal sin.” He stood up, but you were still unable to move. Your arms crossed over your head and your legs were forced wide.

Wasting no time, he stripped out of his own clothes; Finally he pulled his boxers down to expose his cock which bobbed against his stomach. Your eyes widened in shock at the size.  It had been some time since you’d been with a man, but his thick cock was bigger than you’d ever had. You tried to shy away from him a bit but he stroked it up and down a few times, laughing at the more than apparent shock on your face

“Never had a cock this big before, have you?” he slowly climbed on the bed, kneeling between your legs. “Well not to worry, little witch. I’m here now and I’m gunna take good care of you. Starting by fucking you like the little bitch in heat that you are and making you cum.” He stroked his cock while gently running his fingers up and down your slit.  You wanted to struggle, scream, fight back. But when Lee pressed his thumb down on your clit, you let out a moan and seemed to almost grind against his hand. It was wrong, but it felt so good. He brought the fingers he’d been rubbing you with up to your lips.

                “Suck on em, slut.” Pushing his fingers in your mouth, rather than be repulsed, your tongue laved over his fingers; thoughts clouding your mind of kneeling before him and sucking his cock. “Oh don’t worry, little witch. You’ll be doing that soon enough.” Lee promised. “Tell me you want this cock. Tell me how bad you wanna be my little whore.”

                “Want…want your cock in my pussy Lee…want to be your slut..” you begged.

                “You gunna be my good wife? Give me whatever I want?” You could feel the head of his cock brush against the inside of your thigh.

                “Yes…please…”

                “Open your mouth.” He ordered. You did as he said and he squeezed your cheeks, making sure your mouth stayed open as he leaned over and snarled something in Latin before spitting in your mouth. Your eyes widened as you realized what he was doing but he covered your nose and mouth with his hands. “Swallow it, slut. Swallow it if you wanna breathe again.”  You had no choice but to swallow. Your veins came alive like fire travelling through you as you were now soul bonded together. He let go of you but replaced his hand with his lips in another hard kiss.

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You hated yourself, but you wanted him…and he knew it. He snapped his fingers again and now your arms were free to move, but they didn’t fight him, instead they sought to hold him close to you. You wanted to feel him against you, he was so warm compared to the chilly night air. Like a blanket wrapping around you on winter’s first night.

                “Well now, we certainly have changed our mind, haven’t we?” You didn’t answer, turning away, and trying to not meet his leering gaze. But he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him.

                “When I ask you a question, you answer, understand? I’m being real nice here, but I can go back to being mean if you want.” He threatened. But you shook your head softly.

                “No please…I’ll be good…” you whimpered and he smiled.

“I know you will.” He kissed you, taking the chance to push his cock inside you making you moan into the kiss.  His hands were on either side of your head and you dug your nails into his shoulder to try and pull him closer to you.

You pressed your knees tight against his sides as he set a torturous pace. Dragging his cock out slowly so you could feel the head rubbing the walls of your pussy, making you keen and moan. Then pushing back in hard so you felt like you were going to be split in two. 

“Lee…please.” You wanted to beg him to stop but it came out as a plea for more.

                “Such a powerful little witchling, reduced to my wanton whore…” His hands grabbed your breasts, tweaking and rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers. “Gunna be so pretty on my arm. And if you be a good little wife, I’ll buy you all the books you want, and I’ll fuck you to sleep every night on my cock.” He took one hand away from your breasts to smack your clit…hard. Your vision went white with pleasure as you screwed your eyes shut; your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

                “Fuck and a pain slut to boot. You’re gunna be lots of fun, little witch. I want you to cum. Cum for your new husband.” His thrusts increased to a punishing pace and he used his thumb to rub your clit. “And when you cum on my cock, I own you. Heart, body, and soul. You understand?”

                “Ye-Yes I understand…Lee…” His eyes flickered to black as he pinched your nipple hard and ordered you in a voice much lower and darker than his usual tone.

“Then cum.” The sound of it making your eyes was the final straw as your eyes rolled back in your head and you felt every muscle in your body clench as you came harder than you ever had before. Lee had made your body feel like it was on fire but your orgasm was like a cooling only water could bring. You called out his name as you bucked your hips up, like you were trying to draw him in more.

He kept fucking you through the waves of pleasure crashing down on you, chasing his own release. “Look at you, all fucked out and all mine. Can’t wait to get you home, gunna bend you over and spank this ass hard before I fuck it…”  His words made your breath hitch and you clenched his cock one final time before he stilled above you, growling and snarling.

You could feel his hot cum filling you as he pumped his cock into you a few more times. For a few moments, only the sound of your combined breathing’s filled the space. You lay there with your eyes closed as your feelings washed over you; shame, embarrassment, but at the base of it all, satisfaction and power. Power stronger than anything you’d felt before. Lee chuckled above you as you opened your eyes to meet his, now back to crimson.

                “You can feel it, can’t you? All that new power from being my mate flowing through you?” You nodded weekly. “Good but just remember. I’m the one in control now, you’re bound to me so if you even think about hurting me or doing something stupid, I’ll strip them away and leave you for dead. We clear?”

                “Yes, Lee.” You sighed, accepting your fate. His eyes flashed once more to black before turning back to the blue that had drawn you in so easily. You bit your lip, staring up at his rugged looks and acknowledging there were worse options to be bound to for all eternity.

“Fuck, I hope you never lose that doe eyed look. I just wrecked your pussy and you still look like the shy little bookworm you are.” He pulled his cock from you slowly, the first gentle action of the night. “Do you need some stew now, little witchling?” He asked, teasing you and tickling your side, forcing a smile onto your face that didn’t last. Lee let out a small sigh.

“Listen, you might look cute when you cry on my cock, but you’ve got one hell of a smile, darling. I’d like to see it for real.” His words struck a chord, all night he’d teased and degraded you, but now he seemed gentile, almost trying to be charming. He brushed a strand of hair back from your face. “You have to remember sweetheart, I may be strong and powerful, but I have to lure in my pray first.”

Lee gently pounced on you, placing hot, open mouth kisses to your neck, nipping and kissing until you were squealing and laughing in pleasure, forgetting for just a moment the rude and brash way he’d taken you, sexually and literally. When Lee stopped, he pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I told you sweetheart, if you’re good for me, I can be so good for you.” Despite everything you’ve ever known about demons, you decided to trust him; hoping that as his wife, maybe you could do some good and help the people of the town on a wider scale.

“Can I ask for one thing, please?” you asked, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“Well, I am feeling awfully generous.” He said, smiling coyly.

“Please let me keep this place. I promise I’ll come home to you every night but…a witch needs her sacred space.” You asked, batting your eyelashes just a little.

“Hmmmm, I suppose that can be arranged.” Lee conceded. “But I have complete and unfettered access, understood?” You nodded, knowing the road ahead as his wife would be rough, but seeing who he was and hoping you could smooth down the rougher edges gave you a sense of relief.

He lay on his side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You were almost shocked how comfortable you felt in his embrace. But it happened easily, his leg feeling so natural wrapped around yours in your bed.  

[wwilloww]

god of mischief | ksj

PAIRING god of mischief kim seokjin x sun priestess reader

RATING explicit.

GENRE fantasy. supernatural au. mythical au. smut. fluff.

WC 7.5k

SUMMARY You've dedicated your life to the temple of Lugh, the golden sun god. But when your world crumbles, your ticket to escape is not what you imagined it'd be, especially when it comes as a handsome, mischievous figure waltzing through the flames.

WARNINGS NDE. No use of gendered pronouns for YN. Loss of virginity. Minor corruption kink. Handjob. Oral (f. receiving). Size kink. Fairly unrealistic depictions of how anatomy works during sex. Possessive Jin. Marking, claiming. Impreg kink.

AN: Part of the In the Spoop Collab. Oof wow what a ride writing this. I am so so happy to be a part of this beautiful collab, I truly have no idea how this story would exist without the likes of the incredible spoopy crew. But special thanks to @hobisuniverse who beta'd this for me! ily!!! And i hope the rest of you enjoy this fun little story. <3 happy halloween!

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

GOD OF MISCHIEF

You never imagined the world ending this way.

Death, you believed, would come slowly. Peacefully. It would walk towards you with grace, and you would walk towards it with eyes opened.

Instead, this ending is sooty, marked by a scratchy throat, eyes you can’t keep open, and bare feet on quickly warming stone. Unfitting for you, a priestess of the sun god, Lugh.

You woke from a deep sleep to find the temple of the sun, your current residence, on fire.

You’d gathered your sisters, ushered them outside with as many relics and valuables as you could and urged them to run as far and as fast as they could. A temple on fire was never a good sign, but you knew you could fix this. You’d been a devotee all of your life.

But doubt, it seems, is apparent when the ceiling of the first atrium begins to crumble.

He’ll come. He promised he’d come, you keep reminding yourself, even as panic wells up in your throat and the rumble of falling stone echoes behind you as you run to the main temple. Maybe you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe you hadn’t called him correctly, maybe you hadn’t said your penance this morning, maybe—

You hadn’t.

There was something you’d forgotten.

Rushing to the altar, you drag the bag of relics behind you, the ones the others hadn’t grabbed before fleeing from the building. You keep them beneath the hem of your dress, safe away from the fluttering burning pieces of paper and ash. Digging your hands into the sand at the altar, you draw the symbols you practiced a thousand times over in the sand.

Lugh, please. Come to my aide.

You weren’t supposed to invoke his name directly, but this seemed like an appropriate moment to break a rule or two and go directly to the source.

The smoke is quickly thickening.

When you snatch your hands from the colored sand, they come up blackened. The once vibrant reds and purples are covered in soot, your nails and fingertips now dark as midnight.

Nothing has changed.

You try once more.

A third time.

On the fourth time, you beg. Kneeling to the ground you scream a promise into the air. Imagining the smoke, the wreckage,

“Someone please—! I beg you to save my home. Anything you ask for in return, I will repay, even if it costs my life, my firstborn--All I ask is that you save my home—”

A deep rumble echoes through the temple and everything stills.

The crackle of the fire, now stilled to the dripping of water.

And then, from behind you, the sound of a heavy-footed step on stone.

You whirl around, only to gasp in horror as a dark figure emerges from the flames. Tendrils of fire lick slowly, hungrily at his form, like a silk sheet suspended in the air. He brushes one off of his shoulder, and the flame retracts, as if stung. You reach out for him, to protect him from the fire, but he raises a hand and you find yourself unable to move, a body frozen in time.

Flames ringing his background, you can make out broad shoulders, a thin waist.

“Why try to protect me, little one? When the temple is trying to burn you to the ground?”

The bondages of time are loosened from around you as he steps closer and you fall to the floor, kneeling before him. The stone is warm beneath your skin.

“Lugh,” you sob in relief. “You came.”

“Lugh?” the man laughs. “You speak so freely to the sun prince?”

You dare to look up at the tall man’s face, and instead of doe eyes, thin lips adorned by a small mole, and a lithe but strong figure, you find darkening eyes, plump lips, and mischief dancing across this face.

“You’re not him.”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“Your rescuer, the one you asked for.”

“I didn’t ask for you. Or to be rescued.”

“It seems you did. Strange things happen when you make bets with the darkness.” Your words come back to you, the cry you had called out into the looming void. He was right. You hadn’t pointed your prayer towards the sky. You had called it out into the collapsing world, for anyone to pick up.

“Alright, let’s go,” the figure drawls lazily, picking some soot from beneath his nail.

“Go?” you ask, brows furrowing. “But the temple?”

“Fuck the temple,”

You sputter “Fuck?! The temple?”

“Precisely, my darling, now you’re catching on.”

He grabs your hand and turns to leave but you latch onto his sleeve and dig your feet into the ground, becoming dead weight.

The flames around you are still quiet, but they’re picking up movement again, picking up heat, and you see the strain on the man’s face.

He groans. “I’m going to have to take an exceptionally long nap after this if you continue to ask me to hold time back by the hair—and I don’t particularly enjoy napping. I would much rather spend my time in bed a little more, well, athletically.”

“I’m not going. If the temple goes, so will I.”

When you say it, you mean it with your whole chest. Except for the one edge, the one near your heart that tugs and pulls and tells you run, run for your life.

But this is your home, your only home. If it goes. You go too. So you dig your feet in.

With a grunt and a groan, the man suddenly gains a huge burst of strength.

“Alright then,” he says, and before you know what's happening, he hoists you onto his shoulder like it’s nothing. With one step, he’s standing in the midst of the fire. But when the flames flicker against your face, it’s merely a hot heat brushing like feathers over your skin rather than a burn. With another step, he’s standing in the entrance to the temple, and with a third step he’s outside, impossibly far away from the burning building.

That’s when the shock passes.

“Put me down! How—how dare you!”

He does, plopping you down like a sack of potatoes on the ground. “How dare I? How dare I save you from a burning building on the brink of collapse?”

As if on cue, you hear the sound of stone cracking and spin on your heel just in time to see the temple, your home, crumble into a pile of rubble and stone.

“No,” you breathe.

As the temple you called your home disappears in a cloud of dust and orange flame-lit smoke, your heart freezes. It’s gone.

But instead of loss, grief, or some form of despair, what wells up behind the wall of your chest is fire, a reflection of the still-burning remains. You spin on your heel to face the man, who is staring with something akin to glee or wonder at the collapsed building.

“You promised! You promised you would save my home!”

You stomp towards him to — well, what you don’t know exactly, but he seems to see the burning in your gaze and grabs your shoulders before you can get any closer.

“Hush,” he says, and you broil beneath the word. He holds you like that, at arm’s length, for a long minute until your breathing calms. “My dear,” the god tilts your chin up so he can better look into your eyes. “You must be more specific with your wording. That dilapidated shack is hardly your home.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Of course it’s my home.”

He shakes his head. “No. After all, some things are meant to be destroyed,”

“It is the only home I have ever known!” you cry. “And you’ve just allowed it to burn to the ground! How--how dare you!”

You reach out to push him away, but his hands snap into place around your wrists, holding you firm. You struggle against him, but he does not budge. When you realize you cannot free yourself, the grief sets in. Eyes well with tears, cheeks burn with anger.

“Little priestess, did they never teach you that a home is not meant to be convenient? A home is chosen.”

“I did choose!” you say, eyes blurred over with tears.

He tilts his head and looks at you. Really looks at you. There’s something knowing in his eyes, like he’s been exactly where you’re standing before. But you don’t want to see that. You want to see him as the bad guy.

“Let me go.”

He does, releasing the hold on your arms. Free, you run. Run towards the flames.

“Shit,” a curse sounds from behind you, followed by broad arms wrapping around your torso before you’re spun around, feet firmly placed on the ground..

But rather than the field of flowers that surround your destroyed home, you instead find your bare feet stuck in sand. The sound of crashing waves over your shoulder. And when you turn, a full moon ringing the face of your very frustratingly good-at-his-job rescuer.

You swallow the curses on your tongue and instead march straight towards the ocean, dropping the bag of destroyed relics in the sand.

The water teases at your toes as you step into the ocean, it slurps at your calves as you go deeper. The water is cold, so cold, but you keep walking. Somehow, it hardly gets deeper, and at some point you stop, the water lapping at your waist, and let the confusion, the grief shudder through you. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but at some point, a shadow falls before you, and you look up to see the man standing beside you, the water drinking up his thighs.

He doesn’t offer you anything, just stares in the direction you’ve been staring, out towards an unforgiving horizon. You’re both silent for a long moment.

“A home is not in a god,” he murmurs.

“And who are you to say such a thing?”

“A god who’s made the same mistake.”

That’s when you notice it.

A kind of flickering wave of light surrounds the edges of his figure, like his form isn’t entirely meant to be present in this realm. His body is just slightly larger than most humans, just enough that it’s noticeable, and his features are so sharp they seem carved out of marble.

Oh.

A god.

That’s when you notice the scar at his collarbone and you gasp. You understand who he is.

God of mischief.

“You—”

“Jin,” he says. “Call me Jin.”

“Well, you’re not my god,” you insist stubbornly.

“And how might we remedy that?” he cuts back quickly with a smirk. “Anywho, where is your god? Where was he when you called?”

“He-he—” The truth is, you don’t have an answer. That is the grief of it all.

“Did he come for you?” And when you don’t respond: “Answer me.”

“No,” you whisper.

“Did he even bother to come for his temple, his smoking relics?” He nods to the pile of ashes behind you.

“When did he come?”

His eyes meet yours and you understand that he knows what you know. The price of worship he asks of those who are willing. On the new moons, when he slips into the doors of the temple, to draw cries of delight and pleasure from the lips of his priestesses. But only in the dark. The god of the sun, of the pen, worshiped only when he could go unseen, unlit.

“You know what he asks as an offering,” the god says, his voice low. And you know. The brightness that would slip, like the middle of the day, through your window as he wandered beneath it along the hallways. The sounds of carnal pleasure that would echo from the garden at midnight, from the dormitories as you pulled the covers over your head. “You know what he asks, and you never gave it. So why would he come?”

The loss that stirs in your chest is tinted with shame, but rather than letting your eyes fall to the floor, you jut your chin out. Add an edge to your tone. “And? Will you ask me to give it to you?”

The god laughs as if you’ve told a joke. “Unlike others, I do not demand faith. I insist on earning my devotion,” he grins.

“And how on earth does one earn devotion?”

“Shall I show you?” He steps closer, and when you do not move he stands within an inch of your beating heart. He cocks his head, like he’s listening to something. “Your heart is beating so quickly, little priestess. Am I scaring you?”

“No,” you say firmly, and you’re surprised to realize it's true.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“How interesting. I’m not used to humans when they’re not quaking.” He bends down to meet you eye to eye. “How curious.” His eyes flick between yours. “And if you’re not scared, then you must be—” He grins, and lets the silence fill in the rest of his statement. “May I show you?”

You lift your head, expecting some grand spectacle of magic, of understanding about the universe, some gift of grandeur to sway you to his side, but instead when you nod your consent, he offers a different gift.

Lifting your hand, he presses his lips to the arc of your wrist. And then, eyes locked on yours, he kisses right below your elbow. You watch as his lips bestow the touch like butterfly wings upon your skin, his gaze burning brighter as he drinks in the warmth that floods your skin. But you refuse to look away when he reaches your shoulder and plants a kiss as light as breath there too. And then he rights himself, and, hand gliding up your arm, cups your chin.

The god slides his thumb across the pout of your lower lip.

“Have you ever been kissed here before, little one?”

You shake your head.

“May I?”

You swallow.

“Why should I let you?”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to know what true devotion feels like?” He leans closer: “Won’t you let me show you?”

When you exhale, the tension in your chest turns liquid, turns into something warm, eager, desiring. The decision is made.

“Show me,” you whisper.

“Alright, little one.”

He bends and presses his lips to yours in a kiss.

And it's not a kiss but a breath of life, nothing like what you were expecting. You expected muggy breath whipping across a desert, like a hot, dry wind offering no respite from sweltering conditions. But instead his touch is a current, clear and cold, picking up everything in its wake to land on your lips, glistening and silver. It is magic he passes to you, tongue to tongue.

You gasp into his mouth at the clarity of it all, eyes fluttering open to find his staring at you, a blurred gaze.

“Close your eyes.”

His fingers press into your skin at your hips, drawing a burning heat to the surface to meet his coolness. As his hands draw up your sides, some kind of fluttering, sharp thing rises in your chest.

Need.

You kiss him back, your hands gripping onto his biceps as you stretch on your tiptoes to reach further into him. And you understand. You begin to understand what he means by earning devotion, you think, how silly, how wonderful, how easy it must be for someone to give themselves over.

Like you already have to another god.

With that, your breath shudders to life again and when you pause, so does he.

He steps back, his eyes shining with darkness, with desire.

Desire for you.

It is a thin gold strand towards the idea of getting lost in him, the moment of intimacy passed, dropped like a shroud to your feet. One that no longer dresses you, but you know you could pull up again round your figure in a moment.

You pull your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes again.

“Tell me—” he says. “When your world was crumbling down, who came for you?”

“The world works in mysterious ways,” you say quickly.

“Who came for you?”

You withhold your answer for as long as you can. But when he stares at you like that, when he raises his brow and tilts his head, you can’t resist. “You did.”

“Very good. And what was the bargain you made?”

“Me?”

“I wouldn’t ask the entirety of a being. The other thing.”

“My firstborn.”

“A firstborn in my image, yes.”

You flush at the thought.

“My dearest,” he says. “I am in no hurry to collect, but you ought to be reminded of your debts.”

Your face flushes.

“I’ve never defaulted on a debt,” you say stubbornly. “I won’t this time either.”

“Very well,” the god says, a grin dancing across his plum lips. With a snap, a thin gold bracelet appears around your wrist. “A gift, and a reminder, for the sunflower. When you are ready to complete your end of the bargain, all you must do is press the gold between your fingers and think of me. You may also—” He grimaces as if the next offering pains him. “Call on me if you’re in need. Now, don’t do this too often. I’m quite a busy being.”

You nod.

He turns to leave, and then turns back.

“And what will you do in the meantime?”

“Well.” You wish you had an answer. “I’ll... I’ll build a new home.”

“Well you might as well begin with a house.” Jin snaps his fingers and a small cottage appears behind him, the windows warm against the evening breeze. The scent of fresh bread wafts from the house, and your mouth waters.

“Wha—”

“Think of it as a parting gift.”

And with a small kiss to your palm, one too small to leave your cheeks warming as they do, the god disappears.

Maybe if you had built it yourself it would feel more, well, yours.

Everything is perfect. Too perfect. Each morning, exactly what you’ve dreamt of eating for breakfast the night before is sitting on your small stove when you wake for breakfast. The house is always perfectly warm when you’re coming in to shelter from the ocean winds, and the house is always perfectly crisp when you’re ready to bundle up in the thick blankets on your bed.

Your days are busy.

Your days are empty.

When you tried to make a new altar to the sun god with the remains of the relics, a swift wind took hold of the windows, slipped them open, and brushed the dust out into the swells of the breakers. You cried that day, and the sun shone a little bit duller, but you were quick to remember just whose house you were living in.

He’d thought he was doing you a favor, but as the days grew long, you couldn’t help but think that this was some kind of purgatory, living in a perfect life, haunted by the images of your burning temple, the loss of it all and—

And haunted by him.

Late at night, as you lay awake, your eyes close to the image of burning stone and wood. From the darkness that dances between the flames, he appears, just as dashing as he was that first night. And when the vision shifts into dream, he takes you in his arms, presses you close to his chest, and waltzes through the fire.

You feel tension singing. You feel thrilled.

You feel so goddamn annoyed.

Every time you try to turn your attention back to the ways of life before, your focus flickers. Blurs. And your attention slips from that golden god to something--someone — a little darker steps into your thoughts.

Through it all, you can’t help but shake the idea that this is not your home. His words echo in your mind: “A home is not always meant to be convenient.” And yet he had left you here, what a hypocrite! You’re not even sure where you are in the world. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen another person. And as time winds on, you feel more and more desperate to see the last person--well the last god,-- that you saw before all of this fell apart. Desperate to quench the thirst that he had opened within you.

It spirals out in so many directions. Desire for touch. Desire for home. Desire to close the door that has been opened. And everytime you think of each of these conundrums, the window that opens before you leads back to him. Back to an unpaid debt, back to the well of questions that the man--god— is.

So as you rub the gold strand between your fingers and think of the deep brown eyes that were not so long ago bearing into yours, you know: Today is the day you’ll repay your debt.

Once. Twice. Thrice, you rub the gold chain.

It’s not sand beneath your feet, but cold stone.

When you open your eyes, torchlight flickers against obsidian walls. You follow the walkway. The hallway is long, gaping, like an outstretched maw, and you tug your shawl tighter around your body when the chill creeps in.

You loop around a bend to find a half open door, firelight spilling out of the opening. A tinkling piano spills out with it.

Pressing the door open, you find a bedroom. A bed, larger than anyone you’ve ever seen, draped in thick velvet and stacked high with pillows and blankets in dissarary, sits against the wall to your left. Thick pillars of candlesticks line the walls, which are covered in portraits of stark and rolling landscapes and old, silver mirrors, reflecting the light back into the room.

The familiar scent of incense wafts over to you and you take a deep breath.

“Hello little priestess,” a deep voice murmurs from behind you. “I see you found my throne room.” You spin, just in time to catch his flickering grin as he smiles at his own joke.

“What an… intimate display for the throne of a kingdom.”

“What can I say?” Jin says as he strides inside. “The setting makes for intriguing jurisdiction.”

Jin strolls into the room, tossing a bag that clinks strangely onto the bed, before drifting over to the piano in the corner. You notice the keys are moving without anyone playing. “A little quieter please,” he murmurs to the instrument, and the music quiets. “Now, what brings you here?” His eyes rove around you, looking for something, and then over your body too, like he’s studying you, “I didn’t realize you were already with child when—”

“With child?”

“Surely, you can’t have already—It’s only been a couple of weeks?”

“I came to give you the child,” you blurt out.

“Give me?” He looks at you incredulously.

“Give you…” you say slowly, realizing that maybe you jumped to conclusions a little too quickly.

“What will I do with someone else’s child? I never said you had to give me the child. Simply that you ought to be in my image. You needn’t drop him off at my door, just raise him in my image, or name him after me, or teach the boy to nick honey from the pocket of his tutor—”

“How do you know he will be a boy?”

Jin pauses. Tilts his head towards you. “Surely you must know I’m known for more than just muddling people’s business? Or did your precious little temple keep you so sheltered you never learned of the other gods?”

You gape at him.

“You can see the future?!”

“Bits, darling. Bits.”

You soften for a moment, and warm at the thought. “Well, what did you see?”

“A small boy. With dark hair, playing in your skirts.”

“Dark hair? Like yours?” the words slip past before you can stop them.

He raises a brow at your suggestion. “And I do not recall ever mentioning that I must sire the child either.”

“Ah, yes, I, uh—” Your face is burning as you realize you have entirely misinterpreted the intentions of the god, as well as his words. “And if I do not have another person to father the child?”

His eyes lock on yours.

“You do not know what you suggest.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You stand as tall as you possibly can.

“You do realize you’re making a second offering.”

“I understand.” You don’t. Not really. But you’re good at thinking on your feet. So you dive right in.

“And that entitles you to another gift. Another blessing. What will you ask for?”

“You.”

Jin falls silent.

The answer surprises even you, the word unintentional, but now, ringing out in the open, true. All of the doors lead back to him.

“Me?”

“You,” you say. “Ehm, your help. Finding a home.”

“The little priestess wishes for a god, hm?”

“I don’t want a god,” you say. “Who doesn’t want a god?” Jin cuts back. “Who doesn’t want the magic, the glamour, the—”

“Stop it. I’ve already told you. I don’t want it.”

Jin finally seems to listen and he leans closer.

“Then if it's not my godliness that you desire, what is it?”

“Your humanity.”

Something in his mouth twitches at that.

“My humanity?” He chuckles. “I lost that many, many years ago.”

“Did you?” You step closer, flicking your hand as you draw a symbol in the air. It’s old magic. Something you traced again and again in the library’s shelves when you were a child, but never traced onto a god. You’re almost surprised when the golden glow around the god disappears. Jin blinks. “Or did you put it away? Was it too difficult to negotiate alongside all your new duties?”

Jin flushes.

“No one ever loses their humanity,” you whisper, now standing directly before him. “They may give it up though. That doesn’t mean they cannot call it back to them.”

The look in Jin’s gaze sings of genuine curiosity. “And how does one call it back to them?”

“One must feel, one must give themselves over to something”

With all the courage you can muster, you bring the tips of your fingers beneath his chin and lift up his face to yours.

You reach up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

It is like the first time you kissed. Magic, singing between you, a silver thread wrapping itself tightly around you, your being. Jin’s hands wind up your body, already tugging at your clothes.

“No,” you say, pulling away, putting your hands on his shoulder. “Like this. Where I lead.”

He nods, genuinely interested in what you’re going to show him. You lean in to him a second time.

With the lightest of touches, you press your lips to his. You do not want to drink too much of him, drink too deeply, lest you lose all sense and reason; something that seems dangerously within reach when you’re with the god. So you step closer to him, carefully. The kiss flutters between you, like a newly winged bird. Unsure, half-in-flight, fumbling. Fumbling but flying. He kisses you back, and it’s nothing like his earlier kisses.

He is soft. Searching.

It is like walking down an unknown path, hand in hand. When he steps forward, so do you. He stands to his feet, pulling you to his body, and together, you wander.

The kiss quickly turns frantic though, the heat of the chase now burning between you two.

Somehow, you end up against a wall, his huge body towering over yours, arms on either side of your head, a leg pressed between the folds of your skirt. In any other circumstance, the position might be menacing, but the way in which he brushes his lips against your shoulder speaks of butterfly wings and autumn leaves, fluttering down from a late September sky — not power, not godliness. Change. Transition.

He presses his leg up against your core, and you find yourself grinding down on his thigh, the thick muscles hot and hard between your legs. You’ve never felt warmth like this before, never known this burbling darkness in your innards, something winding, twisted, and as searing hot as the god’s touch against your skin.

“Please, I need… more.”

“More?”

“More.” And he knows what you mean. He pauses. Considers you for a moment.

“Are you sure, my priestess?”

His words shock you. No one’s ever asked you that before. They’ve only insisted, assumed. Paved the trail and asked you to walk down it, unquestioning. But here a god is, asking you what you want of him. And then, the pet name, at the end. Not “little priestess,” though you have taken a liking to the peculiar softness of the name. But his priestess. There’s liberation in the new title. Danger.

You nod, but he continues.

“You made the deal, but I can be, well, lenient in some fashion. With timelines. With... ” He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

“No,” you say, and you mean it. “I want this. Want… you.”

He continues, unhearing. “It could even be your precious sun god—” There is acid on his tongue.

The reminder surprises you.

You hadn’t even thought of the golden god since you stepped foot into Jin’s chambers. The answer is immediately clear.

“No.” You say, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I want you.”

He searches your gaze for a second confirmation before nodding.

“Good.” He grins. “Then you’ll have me. All of me.”

When he kisses you, it’s with fury, with possession.

“Undress me,” you say.

And he does. With gentle touches, he unlaces your bodice with practiced fingers. Slowly but surely, each of your garments drop to the floor at your feet, until you are entirely bare before him.

It feels strange, to be exposed like this, and when you lift your hands to cover yourself, he stops you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, turning you just so, so that you are positioned directly in front of the mirror in the corner. Your body seems to glow beneath the candlelight, and his towering figure stands tall behind you. But it’s you, you your eye is drawn to. Like something glows beneath the surface.

“Do you see how beautiful you are to me?”

And the mirror flickers, and you understand, you understand now.

“Yes,” you say.

You turn back towards him and tug on his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons you can reach. He helps you and the shirt slips off of him. Beneath, a swirl of tattoos that flicker underneath the candlelight wind across his skin.

“Get on the bed,” he says.

You do as he asks, crawling onto the thick layers of furs and blankets, arranging yourself into the position you know, the one you saw through peeks and door cracks and windows— hands and knees, facing the headboard. That is until a strong arm sweeps beneath your waist and flips you over.

“What on earth are you doing?” he growls.

Jin’s chest is pressed to yours, his hand wrapped tightly around your back.

“Getting, um, ready?”

“You think I’m going to fuck you from behind? And miss every delightful splay of pleasure across your face?” He swipes a finger across your lips. “Don’t you remember what I told you?”

“Hm?”

“That I earn my devotion. And that I take pleasure in the earning.” He continues speaking as he lowers you gently to the bed, unbuckling his belt.

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Does that embarrass you?”

“N-no.”

“Your face is awfully warm. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—”

But any thought of embarrassment suddenly leaves you as you eye the bulge sprouting beneath the topmost button of his opened pants. It’s big. Your mouth waters and you reach for him, sitting up, fingers tracing round the edge of his pants, hand coming to cup him—

A soft breath flutters from his lips. You want to gulp it up.

“Do you like being touched here?” you ask.

“Yes, I—” his words choke off as you slip your hand into his pants and wrap your fingers around the quickly hardening length. “I’d say I do.” His hand trails down to wrap around yours. “Let me show you,” he murmurs. His fingers slip between yours and tighten.

“Lick your palm.”

“Lick my palm?”

He brings your hand to your mouth and you do as he bids, eyes boring into one another, the muscle of your tongue gliding over the hard plane of your hand. Then he flattens your palm and draws a line through the slick spot. Wetness, slick, gathers in your palm where your saliva once was. When you peer at it, it glimmers a little, like stardust, collected.

“With a little aide.”

Wrapping the now slick digits around him, your hand glides over his hard length. He throws his head back, the most delightful moan slipping out of his plush lips.

“My gods, priestess—” he chokes.

You smile secretly, wanting to gather the display of pleasure across his face, brow pressed in concentration, and tuck it away for later.

Later. Later? You’re not sure what later looks like.

But maybe he does.

“Enough,” Jin murmurs, bringing his hand down to stop your movements, and you frown.

“Was I not—”

“No, no of course not. I simply want to save myself for you.”

The thought of the god of mischief saving himself for anything — anyone, really, makes you laugh. He catches the delightful sound from your lips in a kiss and slowly lowers you back down to the bed.

He lowers himself between your legs, licking a quick stripe up your swollen lower lips.

“You taste so… ripe.” He grins, lifting his head up.

His hands dig into your thighs, your hips, as he tugs you closer to his mouth. He dives into you, your warmth, tongue fucking you gently, before adding another finger. He continues until you’re squirming and cooing in pleasure before he withdraws and sits up.

“Do you think you can take all of me?” he says, as he presses himself between your legs and you arch up into his touch. “Hm?”

“Yes, yes,” you say, greedy for more. “I’ll stretch for you.”

“Will you now?” Jin grins, hand palming his thick cock, gilstening with whatever sex magic he’d performed earlier on your palm. You assume it to be some kind of lubricant.

“Don’t worry little one, I’ll be gentle with you,” he says, answering the unspoken question. And then he presses the next words to your ear, like a kiss, like a promise: “Until you beg me not to.”

The thick head of his cock glides against your folds, parting like the sea. When the tip of his dick skates over your clit, you can’t help the little “oh” that slips from your mouth.

“Did you ever let your precious little sun god touch you here?”

“No,” you gasp. “Never.”

He drinks up the answer.

“And yet within moments of meeting me, I have you naked in my bed, making promises, swearing oaths. Whatever might I have done in a past life to deserve such devotion?”

You’re too distracted by the sensation of him swirling his cockhead around your clit to partake in any kind of conversation, let alone remind him that you actually met weeks ago, a fact you know he remembers, so instead you just let the sound of his words roll over you like the tide.

“And now you’re mine.”

His thick length presses into you. Your back arches, your mouth stretching into an unspoken “oh—”, your hands grasping for anything for solid purchase.

“My dear, my dear,” Jin coos, slowing down before he is fully inside you. “Take a breath.” He takes your hands and winds them around his neck. “Breathe with me.”

You lock eyes and together, fill your lungs with the air you share. When he breathes out, so do you. It’s not an uncomfortable fit, him, inside you, but it’s strange, new, and it takes a moment for your body to adjust around his thick girth. Breathe in, and warmth spreads through your abdomen. Breathe out, and the sensation of him, filling you, blooms. There’s something about breathing together that feels even more intimate than his body within yours. It’s about sharing a body, about experiencing it together. You’re not sure when you have ever done something like this before, when you’ve given yourself to someone — or even something — without thought. Rather than your head leading, something deep within your chest tugs you forward into the future. And it feels good, this intuitive path, this escape.

It feels like escape.

You can already feel yourself slipping into something stickier than your present arrangement, and you want to hold yourself back from that edge. But instead everything, every sensation--your hands tied into the hair at the nape of his neck, his fingers cradling your back, the soft glow of his warm eyes, making sure you’re alright—every single moment of this has you tripping closer and closer to the lip of the cliff.

And when he moves, finally moves, asking, “Are you ready, my dove?” you’re no farther away from the edge.

He slides into you, pressing his hips until they meet yours, and he holds there, his entire length sheathed inside you, his hands roving over every moment of skin and fold and roll and dip of your body.

“So good,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you. “So good, just for me, just mine.”

You gasp at the claim, at the desire riddled through his voice. Like he needs you.

Like he’s standing at the same edge that you are, ready to jump off too.

You two fall into a beat that feels as rhythmic as the prayers that used to fall from your lips each morning, as natural as anything you’ve known.

Bodies roll into one, the wet sound of their meeting echoing around the large room. There’s a moment when you remember what he had called the room earlier, his throne room, and for a brief interlude you can imagine it, you, bouncing on his cock, his, as his devotees look on.

He leans back as he fucks into you, running a hand through the damp strands of his long, dark hair. He glances down, and chuckles.

“Look. See how I fill you up.”

You look down, and sure enough, you can see the bulge of his cock through your stomach, moving, pulsing. You groan, the image somehow even more lurid than your current positioning: fucking the god of mischeif himself.

“Put your hand on it.”

You lay your palm above the tip of his cock and as he begins fucking into you again, you can feel the way your belly rolls out from the pressure, a bulge forming beneath your fingertips. Your eyes roll back in your head as you press down on his cock and your inner walls.

“Need you, deeper,” you gasp.

“Don’t you see how deep I already am? I’m practically in your womb.”

“Deeper,” you gasp, and he abides by your desire, pressing himself down upon you so that there’s nothing but skin between you. You’d always heard stories about the beast with two backs, and now you understand. There is nothing between. There is only here, and outside.

His balls slap against your ass, his hips drum against yours, and you rise to his body too. Soon the only sounds in the room are that of your coupling, skin smacking against skin, and the quiet, unstoppable moans that slip out of your lips and tangle into one another.

He’s so deep in you that you can imagine that his seed needn’t travel very far to find its final destination within you.

Your bodies riot towards one another, desperation marking your brows, your limbs as you clamber for proximity, for pleasure.

“Tell me where you want me,” Jin growls in your ear. “Tell me where you want me to mark you up, paint you white.”

“Inside,” you gasp. “Inside, please.”

Just the thought of part of him, mixing irrevocably with part of you — his seed taking root and sprouting within you, it has him digging his fingers deeper into your skin and plunging his cock as deep into you as he can go. He grinds against your body, desperate for depth.

For closeness.

For you.

Your name, entwined with a string of curses, falls from his lips, mixing like magic in the air.

He presses his pelvis to yours and pleasure splits through your body. Suddenly you are rocketing towards the edge of pleasure, lightning and darkness striking deep within you, a kind of swirl of madness that holds more than any prayer you’ve ever said, any sigil you’ve ever drawn—

When he comes, he bites into the soft skin of your neck, a mark you know will bloom overnight and leave a flowering mark of his body on, in, atop yours for anyone to see.

“Mine,” he growls into your skin, licking at marks he’s left.

Exactly.

With his still hard cock, he continues to rock into you, fucking his seed ever deeper. He wants you full of him. Your hands skate up his back and soon his rhythm comes to cease, and he pulls out. With a gentle caress to your face and a kiss to your forehead, he’s soon propping up a pillow beneath your hips. You can feel his cum slipping out of you already, and he gets down on his knees and after inspecting it, uses his fingers to push it back inside.

“Lay here, like this.”

“Like this?”

“So it sticks.” And he grins, like the two of you have a secret now, which, in a way you do.

A secret shared with a god.

What have you gotten yourself into?

For a moment, he just lays there, his head on your stomach, looking up at you. There’s something soft, like melting sugar, in his dark gaze, something that you hadn’t noticed before. It warms you from the inside out. He stares at you, blatantly, like he’s trying to memorize your face.

Your suspicions are confirmed when he crawls over you, eyes scanning your features.

“What a strange little creature you are,” Jin hums.

“Creature?”

“Precisely. Defying the limits of expectation once again,” he adds, looking down to where your bodies were shortly joined. You giggle.

You move to clamber out of bed and re-dress, but you are quickly hauled back into bed by a pair of strong arms. A squeal escapes you as he flops you on your side and curls up behind you.

“Lay with me here, just for a moment longer.”

It’s an easy request to fill, and you find yourself soon dozing off into a dark, deep sleep.

The feeling of morning — the long stretch of time having passed, the long lull of dream’s path before you — greets you when you wake. But no sunlight streams through any window.

A hand brushes across your cheek and you look up to find warm, dark eyes gazing down on you.

“Jin?”

“Good sleep?”

“Hmm,” you hum, wanting to curl back into the nest of blankets and furs.

“You slept long,” he laughs, and brings water to your lips. “Drink up. You need it.” The water pours down your parched throat, and you gulp at it greedly. Jin bends down to lick a runaway drop of the crystal clear liquid from your lips, and you kiss him.

“Will you make your home in me, sunflower?” He grins, looking down at you, his hair falling into his face.

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” you sing, face warming as you pull the clothes he’s deposited for you at the edge of the bed into your lap. “You’re awfully presumptuous. But you promised a journey first.”

“That I did.”

As you get up and begin to get dressed, you’re surprised when he comes from behind you to wrap around your body. His body glows with warmth.

“The road awaits us.”

Fin!

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

🔆 if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! i love chatting with you all!

🔆 want to read more?

[edensrose]

Foxx. Fooooooxx. I have crawled out of my warm place to request a drabble or a oneshot, whatever works for you 👁

Could I maybe perhaps request a fluff drabble with Mizuki where the reader is trying to paint him? Just, stupid fluff where they're giggling like idiots because he won't stay still because he's Mizuki and has too much energy? 👁👁

Have a great day/night love and make sure to eat properly, drink water and take breaks. Make sure to prioritise your own wellbeing too. Also sleep. That's also important. Make sure to sleep too. Take care dude 💜✨

anything for you spoops bby! thanks so much, I hope you're taking care of yourself too 💞

ৎ୭ — summary : mizuki tries his utmost hardest to stay still whilst his s/o paints him, however, it proves to be more difficult than he thought

ৎ୭ — type : one-shot

ৎ୭ — genre : fluff

ৎ୭ — warnings : none

ৎ୭ — word count : 856

//tag list : @a-chaotic-dumbass @rurifangirl

“Mizuki!’’

“Hey! I didn’t even do anything this time!’’

You have to bite back a laugh as you spare a glance towards your grinning boyfriend who sits upon his futon. He knew exactly what he was doing - and yet he dared to give you those innocent eyes? The little snake.

“Uhuh, you’ve said that the last three times.’’ Unable to fight back the smile, you pick up your detailing brush to make a quick fix due to his sudden, uncalculated movement. “Well, I’ve meant it all three times!’’ Allowing himself to ease, Mizuki lets his shoulders relax once again. “Alright, alright. I won’t move again.’’ “Are you sure?” You peep at him from the canvas, shooting him a playful glare.

“Yes, yes I’m sure! Now paint me like one of your Tanuki girls!’’

That alone made you toss your head back in laughter before you could even stop yourself. “Quit it!’’ You manage after a fit of joy. “At this rate, I’ll never finish the piece if you keep being like that.’’ “Being like what? The love of your life?” “Mizuki.’’ A smile graces your lips as you give him another ‘warning’ look before you promptly return to your painting.

It appeared that the snake had settled down and distracted himself by staring off to the side of the wall. You’d admit, you knew from the get-go that this wouldn’t be a smooth-sailings session. After all, you had been with Mizuki long enough to know just how hyper he could be. In fact, it was one of the many things you loved about it. That didn’t mean that it made your job any easier, but at the same time - he was making this quite enjoyable.

Growing accustomed to the quiet once more, you instead allow your gaze to focus back onto the canvas - every so often glancing at your muse. You couldn’t help the small pink that had found its way across your cheeks - Mizuki was stunning, after all. However, it was only when you sat down and truly got to concentrate on him in such a way, were you able to appreciate his good looks. His gleeful eyes that shimmered like that of emeralds, his snow-white locks that perfectly framed his face and his pale skin, like that of porcelain. Every detail, every indent, every aspect - you tried to capture it all within this one painting.

If anything. . . This was an act of love.

You had become so lost in your world of thoughts and brush strokes that you were completely caught off guard when a sudden pop echoed throughout the room. With a few blinks, you theorise that perhaps you had just heard wrong. Pop.

Nope, you definitely heard right.

You pry your eyes away from the painting for the umpteenth time to face the shikigami who now began making the ‘popping’ noise with his lips. *Wow, he really couldn’t sit still - could he?* “Mizuki,’’ you call. “Huh?” At this point, it appeared as though he was subconsciously allowing himself to do such things. With a giggle, you shake your head. “Is it that hard for you to sit still?’’

“Hey! I’m trying you know,’’ playfully, he pouts. “Lucky you, you get to paint and have fun! I’m sitting here doing nothing ~” He whines, although you knew he was merely pulling your leg. If this was too much for him, he wouldn’t have agreed in the first place and would most likely have requested you stop by now. “Uhuh, well I guess I am having fun. I get to paint my beautiful boyfriend.’’

“Aww shucks, you’re going to make me go all red!’’ The snake exclaims in over-exaggeration as he brings his hand up to his cheek, only to quickly put it back in its original place before you notice. “Uhuh,’’ you coo. “Well, it is my job.’’ Once again, you allow yourself to get sucked into the world of colour and technique, you were determined to finish this piece today so that you could impress your loving boyfriend. Yet once again, you’re dragged out of your little artist zone once a newfound humming meets your ears. Now he was swaying.

“Mizuki!’’

“Whaaaaat?!”

You both release a laugh as you finally place the paintbrush down and rise from your chair. “You know, Mister. You are a very difficult muse.’’ Kneeling onto his futon, you place your hands on his shoulders. In an instant, his hands find your wrists in a gentle hold. “I’m trying my best. It’s difficult to sit still and just stare at you, you know.’’ He murmurs, leaning his head in and nuzzling against yours. “You’d make me all flustered if I were to do that.’’

Your cheeks burn with a blush before a giggle leaves your lips. “Oh Mizuki,’’ you sigh, leaning in to give him a small peck. “Never change.’’ All you receive is a small pout before he pulls you forward.

“No fair, I think I deserve waaaayyy more than just a little peck, as a reward for being your muse!’’ With a playful roll of your eyes, you lean in: granting his request and showering him with kisses.

[queerlyloud]

It's finally Spoopy Season again, so I would like to offer up just a few of my favorite Spoopy WLW stories. I'll do two for each type of media. 👭🎃👻

Please note: I will NOT be including trigger warnings for this list. I am putting it together because I want to provide a useful resource but I am not cataloging these works and I definitely won't be including any kind of professional reviews. I just want to offer up some Stories I Like, and if you're interested in any of them, you can do further research on your own. :)

🌸TERFS can Fuck Off 🌸

First, Podcasts! I looooove podcasts this time of year, they do so much for queer horror fans!

1. Mabel

This podcast is one of my ALL TIME FAVORITES, I listen to it over and over again because it does the Fae as the eldritch horror creatures they are but also the romantic and often tragic figures they are and, most of all, as Not Human, and I just... deeply appreciate the entire aesthetic of this show. It is told through a series of voicemails left by two women trying to reach each other across impossible boundaries and I am just so here for it. 😭💕

2. Alice Isn't Dead

This podcast is soooo creepy, but it also explores grief and loss and what it means to go on afterwards. Told through radio transmissions from Kesha, a long-haul trucker out looking for the wife who had been pronounced dead, only to show up on a random news broadcast months later, and then again and again, always at the scene of some unbelievable atrocity. The story follows Kesha's journey as she tries to work through the betrayal of being left to mourn by the one she'd once trusted most and solve the mystery of what exactly had led her wife to abandon their home after more than a decade of building it together.

Next, my favorite Spoopy WLW shows! These give me so many feelings, and they are wildly different but I like them, and this is my list, so. 😌

1. Killing Eve

I KNOOOOOWWWW, alright, I KNOW it isn't technically a Spoopy Season pick, but it IS an awesome psychological horror (my favorite kind 🥰) which revolves around the twisted and complicated relationship between two women who are each, in their own ways, deeply fascinated, even obessessed with murder and death, and in their pursuit of it, end up becoming equally obsessed with each other. This show makes me so happy because it is unapologetically horrific but also somehow beautiful. I always think of this as the WLW Hannibal, and I stand by that. If you've ever hung out with mlm and also wlw, you'll know what I mean.

2. The Haunting of Bly Manor

This one is so soft! It has so many feelings and I would argue that there is only one (maybe one and a half) genuinely scary characters in the entire thing, which I know makes it almost not qualify for horror wlw, but it has the horror stuff in it (ghosts, murders, and creepy kids, oh my!) This one is my comfort spoop, so if you're looking for something a little less intense this Spoopy Season, this may be the watch for you. I watch it whenever I wanna let myself feel Big, Soft Feelings but also be vaguely creeped out, and also wanna look at lots of pretty ladies doing pretty lady things. All I have to say is:

🥰😍💖 Carla Gugino 💖 😍🥰

Finally, books! I'm going to rec a couple of books that I've either never or almost never seen recced. We all know about Gideon the Ninth (go read it 💕), but these books are ones that really did it for me when I read them and both of them were books I took a chance on and didn't regret it.

1. The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall by Sebastian Nothwell

I've already written an actual review for this lesbian Gothic horror (I am using the word lesbian on purpose here, because it is the word the author used to describe it and it is important for textual context). This book is so gruesome and macabre and psychologically horrifying and simultaneously ethereal and grounded in the way it presents the story, a reflection of the characters of the two leads, as they are dragged into the tangled web of the seemingly cursed Heatherhurst Hall and the twisted ties of the bonds they've built with each other. If you love Gothic horror, old black and white movies, or scary lesbians, this is the story for you! Just be warned, this story is definitely not for the squeamish.

2. Women of the Dark Streets: Lesbian Paranormal edited by Radclyffe and Stacia Seaman

Hoo, buddy, this one is a MASSIVELY mixed bag. It is a collection of lesbian short stories, sometimes erotic, sometimes not, sometimes unabashedly horrific, sometimes softer. Some stories are phenomenal, some are terrible, and some are in between, but for me, the ones I loved have stuck with me for years. I DNF several of the stories, but I also read and reread some of them over and over again. Definitely visit Goodreads to get a feel for which stories sound right for you before just diving in, because a few are definitely triggering. I love horror that doesn't apologize for being horror, so this book held a lot of appeal for me, and if that's your jam, it might be an awesome chance for you to find some new favorite short stories, too. I'll say it again just in case, though, this might be one to miss if you're squeamish.

So there are my Spoopy WLW reccs for this Spoopy Season. Idk if anyone will read this, or if I just wasted an hour of my life writing a long post no one will ever see, but either way, it was a fun thing to do and if it helps even one other person, I think I'll call it good. Wishing all of you the very best Halloween. 🧡🎃👻

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Costume-Prepping With Peter:

Anon said: “Can I ask for a Halloween fic or hc with Peter Parker and his best friend reader?”

Fictober prompt: Day 1 - “I need you.”

A/N: This is sometime pre-Jake Gyllenhaal not me having to Google his last name iofjdfigjiohrth, probably somewhere between Homecoming and The Bad Times. Enjoy, and happy spoops!

You frowned as Peter cheekily strolled into his bedroom, all smiles and arms outstretched in a jarringly Tony Stark-like fashion, where you had been sitting on his bed and waiting to see his Halloween costume idea for this year. “Peter, no.”

Peter’s eyes grew three sizes as his arms flopped back to his sides. “What? Why?”

Cue big brown puppy eyes on your best friend’s sweet, hopeful baby face. You scowled on, focusing eye-daggers at the spider symbol on his chest.

“C’mon, [Y/N]!” Peter half-whined. He offered you a few stereotypical hero poses in his actual real-life Spidey suit, clearly trying trying to persuade you; you felt your lips twitch momentarily but you managed to hold it together until he dropped his mini modeling session and switched back to pouting. “It’s funny! Besides, no one will know I’m actually Spider-Man!”

You squinted at him. “You’re literally wearing the suit that Tony Stark gave you. Who else has a suit like that?”

Peter’s eyes flitted to look at anything but you as he began to realize you had a point. Still, after a few moments of fidgeting, he threw up his hands in snap-to-finger-guns formation at you. “Maybe I’m just really good at costumes!”

“Tony Stark good?”

“... Okay, well...” The brunette briefly deflated again and his fingers flexed at his sides, as if grasping at the air would help him grasp onto a good argument. Once he decided on something at least somewhat worth saying, you watched his entire body rev itself back up like the Energizer Bunny. He made a step towards you and began to through up his “I have an idea” hands.

You stopped him by raising your own hand. “Look, it’s absolutely wild that no one has figured it out already, especially at school. I mean, you sometimes make your web fluid while literally sitting in class.”

Peter’s already big eyes grew even wider and one hand dropped to his side again, palm-down and fingers flexed just slightly: Keep it down in Peter Mannerism Language. Despite the two of you people the only people in his apartment at the moment, he lowered his voice when he spoke next. “You noticed that?”

All energy except what was necessary to stare dumbfounded at him left your body; a you-shaped cartoon battery that was quickly draining appeared briefly in your mind’s eye. “I sit across the aisle from you, dude. You face me when you’re pouring chemicals into your desk. Like... what?”

You got a point, Peter said in Mannerism as his eyes darted away and then back to you a couple of times.

“Anyway,” you continued before he thought too hard about it, “what I mean is that yeah, maybe you won’t get caught, or whatever, but... trashy homemade costumes are like our Halloween thing, man! You, me, MJ, Ned! Some really sucky safety scissors, some really cheap foam, some glitter glue for some reason even though none of us ever use it--”

Peter interjected, “Ned used his to paint his nails that one time.”

“--and you got me there,” you admitted with a waggle of your finger. “But at least when you dressed up as Iron Man for the past, what, eight years? You would remake the costume every year. Now look at us.”

You halfheartedly gestured towards the mirror propped up against Peter’s dresser. When the two of you looked, your reflections stared back. Even when he wasn’t doing something heroic in the suit, your best friend looked a little foreign to you. He looked and felt like a superhero, and maybe that’s what really upset you; he was a hero and there you were, standing next to him in a plastic chest plate that costed five bucks at Walmart and the tattered red shower curtain that you’d saved when your parent bought a new one a few months back.

Except, you realized immediately after, Pete is literally a superhero and he deserves to feel good about it. And I should be proud of him instead of being a jackass.

“What?”

You blinked and met Peter’s eyes in the mirror. “What?”

“You mumbled something,” he clarified. You stared as a smile pulled at the corners of his lips but he didn’t have a poker face that was nearly as good as yours; the smile won over only seconds later. “Something about being a hero?”

You felt your cheeks warm as embarrassment began rearing its head but you hid it with a roll of your eyes and playful jab to your friend’s ribs. “Not important. Wear your super suit. You earned it, it’s only fair. I just get worried, you know.”

Peter nodded, then fell back into thought again as he rubbed his side, mostly out of habit than because you had actually hurt him. Then, suddenly, he was throwing his arm around your shoulders in a squishy side-hug that caught you so off guard that you almost stumbled. His strength was still something that he was coming into, even after all this time.

“Ah, careful!” you yelped, then pinched his arm in retaliation. “I don’t have the Spider Tingle like you do.”

“Never.” Peter said, all too seriously. “Never say Spider Tingle.”

There was a mini stare-down. Peter, warning you. You, daring him to stop you. Staring led to squinting. Squinting led to eyebrow movements, which led to weird faces and both of you breaking into a giggle fit.

When you calmed yourselves, Peter released you from the side-hug and picked at his suit a bit. “You are right, though. I probably shouldn’t risk it and the Garbage Brigade is tradition.”

You agreed sagely, “Meaningful, sacred tradition.”

The two of you chuckled again, then Peter went on, “And what kind of friend would I be to break such tradition? If I’m gonna dress up as Spider-Man, I could at least use my first suit to be a little... more casual.”

The first suit? As in your favorite Spidey suit? As in the sweatshirt and the ski mask and the weird goggles and the--?

“No one would expect Spider-Man to go back to wearing his blue athletic pants, huh?” Peter added, confirming you suspicions of the suit, looking at you to see what you thought about this idea.

You stared back. “Pete, do you still have your first Spidey suit?”

He nodded. “Mhm. Yes. Why?”

“Pete.”

“Yes.”

“Pete.”

“Yes.”

“Peter.”

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker.”

“Yes, [Y/N] [L/N].”

You walked right up to him, planted a hand on either side of his face, and stared deeply into his eyes. “Peter.”

“Yes...?” Peter said, now unsure of what to do.

“Pete, please,” you said, “Life or death situation. Right now. I need you... to wear the Trash Panda Spider-Man suit.”

[paintedkinzy-88]

I have noticed that the "good" side dragons have a more soft and feline/mammal face/skull..... while the "bad" ones have more lizard or dinosaur like ones. Think that might be because of how they are viewed? Death, negativity, destruction are all feared while life, creation and positivity is welcomed.... so does that translate in how their designs look more fierce or more friendly?

(〜￣▽￣)〜 YEET.

I wanted to purposefully make the “good” side of the balances softer, more approachable, while the “bad” side is more dangerous or scary. Part of it is probably related to how they’re viewed, yeah! The other part is more… how does it suit their “job” so to speak?

(I’m kind of gonna ramble a little bit, sorry. XD I’ll put a cut if anyone cares to read my thought process here haha!)

Error’s built to fuckin wreck shit. Big, powerful, tough skin and bones, sharp claws, tail blade that can also smash stuff, and of course opposable thumbs. He can be scary, yeah, definitely, but it’s not about creating fear, it’s about destruction and a lot of it, quickly and efficiently.

Reaper’s light, swift, looks more skeletal than anyone else, but he’s less there to kill and more there to collect and maybe spoop a few. You don’t hear him coming. He comes when you least expect it, or in the quiet moments when you’re waiting for him. A silent, fairly freaky, but still in a way… comforting sight, with those soft, welcoming wings.

Night’s sharp and sleek and spooky. He’s also made to kill, but in a way that’s more aimed towards suffering than anything. He’s long and quick, perfect for chasing or hunting, but land locked so his movement’s gonna rely a lot on skittering up walls all freaky like. He’s made for the dark, cold nights.

Dream is soft! Metaphorically and physically. He’s a literal light in the darkness, warmth on a chilly day, and the perfect size for one on one cuddles (or more than one, of course!). And toe beans. That’s always a plus. He’s just not made to harm.

Life is also comforting! Motherly in the way of a fluffy embrace and kind, animal like face. She’s regal, pure, but made to help and heal, all while putting you at ease that this large beast will not harm you.

Ink’s… a little different. Mostly because XGaster had more of a hand in designing him than… the multiverse/Fate/Destiny/whoever you wanna call it. But even still! He’s colorful, expressive, a very welcoming sight. He inspires most creativity (irl too, he’s the one I get the most fanart of!), but he’s also very prepared to defend his creations. Honestly, on the “good” side, he’s the only one built to actually fight if need be. He doesn’t have to elicit happiness or positivity or any kind of reassurance in order to have creation and AUs, he just needs to make sure it survives. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[flowerywhispers]

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• Welcome! This is a blog mainly dedicated to various webtoons/manhwa/ manhua. Don't let the layout fool you though, I'm inconsistent and get off track very quickly.

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No 18+ works will be posted or reblogged here and suggestive is the very worst that anything on this blog will get in that regard but keep in mind that I swear a lot and a lot of my posts will feature unreality, neither of which will be tagged unless it's excessive, so, if you're not comfortable with that, this might not be the the best place for you to be.

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