#note that i did that whilst one of my hands was sorta loosely holding my arm

[publicuniversalenemy]

hey quick question. what hte Fuck was that,

[angelicspaceprince]

Take Me To Church (Part 2)

Author: Toby

Title: Take Me To Church (Part 2)

Pairing: Zhuk/Reader, Reader/OC

Character/s: Zhuk Shoggoth

Word Count: 2, 812 words

Warnings: Smut (18+ only please), anal, choking (sorta), collaring, tentacles, tentacle shibari, double penetration for like a second, aphrodisiacs, hypnosis, sex in a church, priest kink. I'm sure there are more but I can't remember its 1:30am. Oh bad Russian translations from Google, but there are translations at the bottom of fic.

Tags: @yankyo

Prompt: It had become more of a game, a routine, for the two of you to return to the church just for a bit of fun. Zhuk, this time, has a lot more planned for you than he's let on. Part Two of Take Me To Church (Part One)

Notes: So.....this is very much written for one person who loved the original fic. Also, for myself because I just love this man and I love this kink. No judging. Maybe OOCness? I'm not sure man again. Its late.

Requests are open. Commissions (for crafts and writing) are open. Hit me up if you want to talk prices. Also, my ko-fi account is below in case you want to be so kind as to tip my work.

Buy Me A Coffee

Take Me To Church (Part Two)

Translations at bottom of fic in order of appearance

You wake up to the sensation of those warm, wet tendrils trailing up your skin as you try to snuggle back down into the strangely warm pile of blankets that was the Father’s nest. You hear his amused chuckle echo through the room. “It’s time to get up, Y/N.” His hand moves to rest on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze as he pushes you onto your back. You blink, vision blurry as the sun peaks through the cracks in the church’s walls. It’d been some time since you had more or less become the plaything of the demon that had made this rotten church his home and, if you were honest, it wasn’t a bad deal. He kept you warm and fed and completely and utterly fucked out at any chance he got and, as time went on, you slowly got to know him as a person. Not just the giant looming creature that has multiple things growing out of his back.

Speaking of, you look over to see him crouching down beside you, hand moving to brush a piece of loose hair and tucking it behind your ear with care. “Good morning, roza.” He greets, passing you over a piece of fruit, which you take readily and slowly start to eat, knowing the consequences if you refused. “I have a gift for you.” He adds as you finish off your snack, pulling out a small box. You slowly move to sit on your knees, hands sitting in your lap as you look at him, curiously staring at the plain wooden box in his hand. “Eyes closed, kotenok.” He prompts, smirking as you do as instructed.

You hear him unlock the box and feel him pick something up before his hands are suddenly at the back of your neck as he reaches over to pull something through. It’s not until you hear the lock of a padlock that you realise what it is, eyes opening as you look up at him, hands instantly moving to feel the cool leather that is now resting against your throat as he looks down at you with a heated gaze. “There, moy prekrasnyy malen'kiy pitomets, moy velikolepnyy malen'kiy kotenok. Kak krasivo ty vyglyadish' s vorotnikom na sheye, dorogoy.” You swallow, knowing that he’s praising you but not quite understanding what is being said.

“Sir?” You ask, voice quiet. He hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, malyshka?” You swallow, hesitating to ask your question, much to the priest’s amusement. “Vam interesno, yesli ya khochu igrat' v nashu igru?”

You didn’t understand Russian, but you understand his body language, the way he spoke. You understood him. You can tell by a mix of his amusement and apparent arousal what the question was, or at least the gist of it. You nod slowly, looking up at him, hoping the answer would be yes. “Please?” You throw in for good measure.

The corners of his eyes crease at the grin that graces his face. “Da. Of course, kotenok.” He leans down, pressing his nose against your hair as he breaths your scent in, almost as if committing it to memory before he pulls back, a low, predatory growl rumbling in his chest as he gives you a one-worded command. “Run.”

You pick yourself up and make a mad dash towards the door behind you, feeling and hearing tentacles crawl across the floor to wrap around your ankles only for you to tug yourself free and forward. You knew the priest could get you in a matter of seconds, but this was all a part of the game. Attempt your run to freedom as he chases you. If you reach the door, he will let you leave. If not?

Well. You were his for another day.

The church had almost become like a home for you. You had discovered little nooks and crannies you didn’t see the day you arrived. Of course, the demon knew the grounds better than you, always knowing where you were, lurking in the shadows whenever you thought he wasn’t near.

The other downside of him knowing the church better than you was the fact that he was able to put small surprises wherever you turned and you would be shocked every single time.

You rip open the door and rush down the stairs, being greeted with nothing but darkness. The ground feels warm against your feet, soft even. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes it difficult for you to piece together what you are stepping on until the lights turn on, seemingly on their own.

A nest. Of nothing but forever moving black vines that seem to pulse alongside your heartbeat. They start to curl up your legs as you yelp and slap them away, dragging yourself to the safety of your door. You can feel the priest’s amusement, hear his laughter, always right behind you even though when you look over your shoulder, he is nowhere to be seen.

You work your way through the tumbled mess behind you, pushing your body’s weight against the door in order to trap everything inside. You look around frantically. It doesn’t look like he’s there. You can hear his laboured breathing behind the door, his nails scratching at the wood right behind your head, making you jump forward, spinning to see if the door would open.

Silence.

The only thing you can hear is your own heavy breathing matched with the slick sounds of the tendrils behind the door twisting and turning against one another.

You could make it.

You turn and make your dash towards the front door. Perhaps this time you will reach it, perhaps today will be the day tha-

You are slammed against the closed door of the confessional door, the entire wooden structure shaking and groaning as you are held up against it, the Father in front of you looking down with a victory smirk plastered on his face. “Poymal tebya, malysh.” He purrs before moving to kiss you, teeth nipping at your lower lip as his tongue seeks entrance into your mouth.

You grab at his arms as his hands dig into your thighs as he wraps them around his waist, the tentacles holding you up against the door moving away and out of sight the moment it’s clear the priest has got you where he wants you. “So close, malen'kiy.” He purrs, moving to nip at your neck, just above your new collar. “But not close enough.” He growls a low ‘mine’ just as the tentacles return, weaving their way up your body, positively vibrating with excitement as they hold you up and open for him, forming intricate designs against your body whilst making sure they are able to support you without fear of you falling.

You are tempted to fight back, sass, anything to keep the game going. But, the priest is too quick, making sure he is pressed completely up against you so there is no way for you to escape. When your mouth opens, the feeling of something warm and pulsing pressing against your tongue is your only warning before his tentacle slides in, instantly moving to spill the sweet, thick almost-nectar into your mouth, giving you the option of swallowing or choking. Really, you didn’t have much of a choice, but the priest seemed to like the illusion that you did.

The now-familiar warmth washes over you, causing you to clench as your slick starts to build, eventually coating your thighs and the pants of the demon in front of you. You feel more than hear his chuckle, amused by the small whimpers that start to fall from your lips before quiet begging fills the room. You were empty. Too empty. The urge to be filled began to build, just as you feel something brush against your folds, collecting your slick as they push into your wet heat, causing a low, satisfied purr to come from the demon in front of you.

Your hips jolt up when he curls his fingers inside of you, grazing against your most sensitive of spots. It was like he knew you inside and out without even trying, something that originally scared you but in this moment? You were oh so thankful for. His low chuckle causes your stomach to drop as he pulls his hand away, leaving you achingly empty. Every plea that left your lips to be filled is met with an amused shush.

It doesn’t take long before he is pushing his length inside of you, a prolonged moan falling from your throat as thanks as he manages to stretch you out in the most delicious of ways. He rolls his hips gently, your body moving up the wooden panel of the confessional slightly as he continues to give you just enough that you’re not screaming in frustration, but not enough to fully satisfy you.

You are ready to demand him to actually fuck you when you feel something nudge at your ass. Something small and thin begins to work its way inside of you, spilling what clearly was going to be used as lube to help ease its way. You catch on quickly as the tendril inside of you begins to expand, matching the priest’s pace as it works its way further into you, stretching you out slightly. Preparing you for what was coming next.

“You could speed it up a little.” You whine quietly, wanting to be taken completely and fully, not toyed with. A heavy hand rests against your throat, enough there that you can feel the weight, a warning to behave and a reminder as to who was in charge. It squeezes gently, the leather of your new collar digging in with his fingers for barely a second before relaxing, his golden eyes never leaving your face.

“Ty khochesh' snova provesti eto so mnoy, malysh?” He warns. For a second, you can feel the back of your head tingle as his face flashes in something you were almost convinced was concern. Seconds pass before the tingle fades and his face returns to one of slight amusement. “Ili ty budesh' khoroshim kotenkom dlya svoyego muzha seychas?”

You have a hunch as to what he was asking. “I’ll be good.” You promise, voice small.

His lips press up against yours instantly, his hand never leaving your throat, keeping that comfortable, reassuring, steadying pressure as he pulls away. “Khoroshaya devushka.” Is all he purrs as the tendril leaves your ass, and the priest slides out from you. You know not to complain, holding back your small noise of annoyance when you return to that feeling of just being empty.

That is until you feel the head of the demon’s cock press up against your back entrance, slowly pushing inside of you as a smaller tendril moves to circle and play with your clit, keeping you relaxed as he bottoms out inside of you.

You felt fuller than you ever had in your entire life. You are certain that, even with only his dick inside of you, that there was a faint bulge coming from your stomach caused by him being inside of you. For a second, everything stills as he allows you to get used to the feeling of him stretching you out in a completely different way, whilst also leaving you empty. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, the tentacles holding you up pulsating as they tighten slowly as the priest grows tenser, needing to move. To fuck you. His hand never leaves your throat, but his thumb rubs at your skin soothingly whilst his other hand rests at your hip. It felt amazing, it felt right. You felt like there was little he could do to make this moment any more perfect.

And then he moves.

Each rough, powerful thrust upwards caused a small grunt to leave your throat, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you slowly unravel, the tendril continuing to flick at your clit with every thrust. His hand stays steady against your throat, keeping your head pressed flush against the wooden panels of the confessional, not enough to cut off your airway or blood supply, but enough to make you feel centred within the fog that your mind is currently in. He purrs your name, a low timbre vibrating between the two of you, enjoy to get your eyes to flicker open to meet his.

He looks at you with so much love and adoration, if it was liquid it would drown you. The rope-like tentacles tighten slightly against your skin as his pace starts to get rougher, sloppier. It takes you a second to realise that he’s talking to you in quiet Russian, just low enough that you can hear it as he concentrates on you, your face, your pleasure, just wanting to see you come undone for him. “-blyu tebya, Ya lyublyu tebya, ya lyublyu tebya, ya lyublyu tebya. Chert, ty tak khorosho menya beresh', kotenok. Kak mne povezlo, chto u menya yest' takoy zamechatel'nyy chelovek, kak ty? Tss, vot i vse, detka. Pozvol' mne pozabotit'sya o tebe seychas. Konchi dlya menya. Konchi seychas.” The last two words come out as a growl, a command, and it doesn’t take you long to obey it.

You feel your body tense as you come with a hoarse cry, a wave of intense heat ripping through you, your hands scrambling for purchase to help push yourself up against him as you raise your hips away from the wall behind you, your pussy spasming over nothing, clenching around nothing. The one orgasm almost feels like it’s too much, your body twitching from the intensity of it, your body slowly beginning to simmer down to a comfortable warmth as you settle into your afterglow.

The priest doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm as he desperately chases his. His grunts grow louder, his face moving to bury itself against your neck, teeth baring down against your skin, yet another marker to declare you as his. You feel him twitch inside of you, and then he’s spilling inside of you with a low, rumbling moan. You clench down around him, milking him for everything he’s got before, finally, your body gives out, exhausted.

Coming up from hypnosis whilst awake was always an experience. It felt like you were swimming up out of a vast pool of water, but only the part where you are just about to breach through the water to take another breath of air before diving back down. Eventually, the water breaks and you are more aware of your surroundings, faint praises falling from Zhuk’s mouth as he moves to hold you against him, tentacles fading away from existence, his cock slowly beginning to pull out from you as his cum drips loudly onto the stone floor below you. “-took me so well, looked so beautiful, too good for me, beautiful girl, moy ideal'nyy malen'kiy angel.”

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, moving your face to kiss him on the lips fully with a smile on your face as you try to finish catching your breath. “We should go home before we get caught again.” You whisper, listening out for any movement outside. It had become more of a treat for the two of you, coming back to the church and continuing to play out your new favourite game. It never grew boring, if anything, the two of you found new ways to keep the game fresh. “Thank you.”

You can feel Zhuk’s warm smile against your lips, eyes closed as he holds you close for a moment longer before wrapping you back up in his coat, snapping his fingers so he is dressed so he can bring you back out to the car. “Baths?” Is all he says, his contentment rolling off in waves as he brings you even closer.

You nod. “Love you, moy muzh.” You say with a yawn, leaning against his chest as you watch the world go by from your car window, awaiting Zhuk’s quite reply.

“Ya tozhe lyublyu tebya, moya zhena.”

Translations, in order of appearance:

- my perfect little pet, my gorgeous little kitten. How beautiful you look with a collar around your neck, dear one.

Are you wondering if I want to play our game?

Caught you, little one.

Do you wish to run that by me again, little one?

Or will you be a good kitten for your husband now?

Good girl.

I love you, I love you, I love you. Fuck, you take me so well, kitten. How lucky am I to have someone as wonderful as you? Shh, that's it babygirl. Let me take care of you now. Cum for me. Cum now.

- my perfect little angel

I love you too, my wife.

[sebbytrash]

желание - Part Eight

Longing: A yielding desire

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings - Possible swear words. I’m scottish, I can’t help it. Some kissing, some fluff

A/N: REPOSTING BECAUSE OF BLOG MOVE

желание Masterlist

“Y/N.” Bucky cups your face, running his thumb over your lips, “Y/N, I have to go.”

You peer up at him from your position in bed, sleep making the image of him a little fuzzy.

“Mmmm, why? It’s so early.” You whine, snuggling further into the covers.

“Steve will come get me for our morning run soon. I kinda have to be there, or he’ll get suspicious.”

“Urgh, I guess. Well, have fun?”

He laughs before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and disappearing out the door. You can’t help the smile the works its way onto your face, your forehead tingling from where his lips touched you. The intimacy of the gesture took you by surprise but it wasn't unwelcome.

Bucky had crept into your room late last night, long after your conversation with Nat in the kitchen. You both agreed that you weren't ready to share it with anyone else yet, wanting to have some time getting to know each other without the extra eyes on you at all times. It had been such an amazing feeling to lie beside him and simply allow yourself to touch him. Slipping an arm around his waist, or threading your fingers with his, the last 24 hours had been a dream.

Feeling lighter than you had in days, and just a little achy, you burrow into your blankets and opt at have a few more hours of blissful sleep.

A loud knocking wakes you several hours later, you pull the covers tight over your head, determined to ignore it. As if in protest, you stomach gives a loud gurgle and you feel the emptiness of it. Knowing there isn't much point in resisting - your appetite is legendary in the compound - you throw the covers off and trudge over to the door muttering to yourself as you go.

Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with Steve, who’s holding out a breakfast burrito like its a White Flag.

“I brought you breakfast, don’t punch me.” He fake winces, before pushing past you into the room, “Now, can you put some clothes on?”

You glance down at yourself, realizing that you had opted to sleep in a tank and boxers because of Bucky, “Hey, you're the one who busted in here at-” you check your alarm clock, “12.30, jeez, is that really the time?”

“Yup.” Steve replies, popping the P whilst giving you his signature Judgement Eyebrow.

“Well, whatever. You don’t wanna see my ass, don’t come to my room uninvited.” You flop down onto your bed, tucking in to the burrito with a moan as the first bite hits your tastebuds. Your long past being modest with Steve, dude’s practically your brother. Besides, junk food really was your weakness.

“You ready to get back your training?” He eyes you warily as you inhale the burrito at lightening speed.

“Mmmrfffpphh, mmmay-ve.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” He wrinkles his nose at you before laughter erupts from him as the wrapper smacks off his head, followed by a rude gesture, “I’m kidding...sort of?”

“I said, maybe.” You resist the urge to stick out your tongue.

He stands, waltzing passed you on his way out the door, “You have an hour. See you downstairs, Kid.” He ruffles your hair on the way past. Maybe he’s more like a Dad?

Once you're finished, you shower and get dressed, choosing some workout gear since there’s no way Steve is gonna let you out of any more training days. He already gave you a week off since the attack. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you attempt to tame your hair, and it's the most rested you’ve looked in a while. You skin has color again, your eyes are bright and there's a perma-smile on your face that's threatening to make even you barf.

God, you were ridiculously in love. It was sickening. You take that knowledge and you stuff it down deep, way down deep.

When you enter the gym you flicker between the present and the attack, the sharp bite of the gun a phantom pain across your jaw. You blink slowly, once, twice, and your vision clears and your back in the present. You huff out a breath through your nose. Fucking Hydra.

“Glad you could finally join us, Y/N.” Steve says from behind the punchbag. There’s a few of the more broken ones stacked against the back wall. Two hanging a few feet apart, like weird stocky dance partners swaying to unheard music,

“Sorry, Captain Hard-Ass. Some of us mere mortals actually enjoy sleep.”

You hear a snort from behind the other bag, peering round you see Bucky standing, water bottle in hand and looking very post-workout. He’s wearing a tight grey t-shirt, the arms stretching to accommodate the sheer size of his biceps. Does the metal one count as a bicep? Huh. The shirt is damp with sweat, a clear indication of how hard he’s been working since he rarely sweats, and damn, even that is fucking hot. His sweatpants hang low and loose, and now that you know what's underneath you couldn't control your eyes if you wanted to. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s smirking, cat-got-the-cream smirking and you catch yourself mirroring it before casting your eyes back to Steve who’s finding the whole thing just a little too interesting.

“So, what's next in 100-ways-to-kill-Y/N?” You ask Steve, directing his attention away from the silent exchange between you and Bucky

“Very funny.” cue eyeroll, “Just some hand to hand combat, maybe a little knife throwing if you manage to knock Bucky on his ass at least once.”

Oh this was going to be interesting.

And it was. Or tortuous, or maybe both. Hand to hand with Bucky wasn't anything new, but the way Bucky lingered on your skin was. Every time he pinned you he'd hold it just a few seconds longer than polite, or his fingers would skim your ass as he circled you, teasing till your vision was blurry with it. He's using the way you react to him like a weapon and you find it immensely unfair. He's pinned you again, and this time you find yourself millimetres from the muscles and tendons of his neck, his turned his head to listen to Steve's instructions and you seize your moment. You place your lips on his neck, sliding your tongue over his pulse point, tasting the faint hint of sweat. His throat moves as he swallow loudly, his voice falters slightly and now you have the upper hand. You use the vantage point, knowing Steve can only see Bucky's body blocking you against the wall, you arch yourself against him, pressing so that your torso is flush with his, feeling his breath rush out of him in response. His grip on you falters allowing you to slip from his grasp, you slip a leg behind his and use his body weight to unbalance him sending him to the floor with a resounding thud.

Bucky blinks up at you, eyes wide, the whites threatening to overtake. Steve stops mid-sentence,  his mouth hanging open before splitting into a very Proud Dad smile.

“Nice job, Y/N!”

“She got lucky.” Bucky murmurs as he stands, but you see the secret half-smile he’s hiding under all that hair.

“We’re done for today. I have a few things I wanna go over with you tomorrow, but for today you did good. A little distracted, but good. Try to focus more tomorrow, huh Kid?” Steve gives you a weird look, but passes it off as a nod and then he’s turning to Bucky. Guess you’ve been dismissed?

Your eyes automatically slide over Bucky before you leave, he’s watching you over Steve’s shoulder sending you a look that sends bolts up your spine.

You wander through the corridors, a lazy pace, mind lost in thoughts of Bucky’s fingers slipping along your skin. You make it half way back to your room before you round a corner and straight into him. He hauls you by the waist until your back is against the wall, a running theme with him, and his face is inches from yours. He dips and runs his nose up your jaw, breathing deeply like he's grounding himself.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He mouths along your jaw, slowly but thoroughly, “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself today?”

“Hmmm…” Your mouth trips a little, distracted by the way his mouth and tongue are tasting your skin, “From where I was standing, you didn't keep your hands to yourself at all.”

“Trust me, I did.” His hands wander down to your ass, a thick thigh edging between your legs effectively pinning you to the wall, “Shit, I really did. The things-”

He cuts off as his eyes cloud over a little with shades of lust and edge. The look he gets has you wondering what those things were, hoping he’ll tell you, or better yet show you; the look of clear intent. His lips find yours, mouth sliding against yours as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. The soft push and pull of him is making your skin hum and pulse with need.

“The things I wanted to do, want to do…” He continues, lips brushing with yours as his mouth makes the shapes of each word, his voice low and gravely, pouring over you.

“Mmmm, what sorta things?” You pull his bottom lip into you mouth, not really sucking, just a gentle pressure to hold it there and revel in the feel of it.

A loud buzzing pierces the bubble you were floating in, Bucky’s phone rudely interrupting your conversation and reminding you that you were currently grinding down on Bucky's thigh in the middle of an open corridor. With a heavy sigh, Bucky pushes back a little, edges his hand down to pull his phone from his pocket.

“It’s Steve.”

“You should go.” You brush your lips along his cheek, “I’ll see you later?”

“Hmm, yeah. Uh- do you...meet me in my room?”

“Sure, Buck. I’ll be there.”

You shower and change, spending a little longer on your hair than normal, attempting to tame it into some sort of style. You quietly make your way to Bucky’s room, avoiding the kitchen incase like the plague, knowing Nat is probably lurking again. Once at his door, you slip inside, relieved to have got here without bumping into anyone for a change.

Door shut behind you, you suddenly feel very aware that you were in Bucky’s room...alone. Doing a slow circle, you once-over everything, noting the absence of personal touches. Your eyes fall on the window, the now covered window. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

He’d hung curtains for you.