#that might not be a sin (I had good intentions) but had bad consequences | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fozmeadows · 3 years ago

Text

tools not rules: the importance of critical thinking

More than once, I’ve talked about the negative implications of Evangelical/purity culture logic being uncritically replicated in fandom spaces and left-wing discourse, and have also referenced specific examples of logical overlap this produces re, in particular, the policing of sexuality. What I don’t think I’ve done before is explain how this happens: how even a well-intentioned person who’s trying to unlearn the toxic systems they grew up with can end up replicating those systems. Even if you didn’t grow up specifically in an Evangelical/purity context, if your home, school, work and/or other social environments have never encouraged or taught you to think critically, then it’s easy to fall into similar traps - so here, hopefully, is a quick explainer on how that works, and (hopefully) how to avoid it in the future.

Put simply: within Evangelism, purity culture and other strict, hierarchical social contexts, an enormous value is placed on rules, and specifically hard rules. There might be a little wiggle-room in some instances, but overwhelmingly, the rules are fixed: once you get taught that something is bad, you’re expected never to question it. Understanding the rules is secondary to obeying them, and oftentimes, asking for a more thorough explanation - no matter how innocently, even if all you’re trying to do is learn - is framed as challenging those rules, and therefore cast as disobedience. And where obedience is a virtue, disobedience is a sin. If someone breaks the rules, it doesn’t matter why they did it, only that they did. Their explanations or justifications don’t matter, and nor does the context: a rule is a rule, and rulebreakers are Bad.

In this kind of environment, therefore, you absorb three main lessons: one, to obey a rule from the moment you learn it; two, that it’s more important to follow the rules than to understand them; and three, that enforcing the rules means castigating anyone who breaks them. And these lessons go deep: they’re hard to unlearn, especially when you grow up with them through your formative years, because the consequences of breaking them - or even being seen to break them - can be socially catastrophic.

But outside these sorts of strict environments - and, honestly, even within them - that much rigidity isn’t healthy. Life is frequently far more complex and nuanced than hard rules really allow for, particularly when it comes to human psychology and behaviour - and this is where critical thinking comes in. Critical thinking allows us to evaluate the world around us on an ongoing basis: to weigh the merits of different positions; to challenge established rules if we feel they no longer serve us; to decide which new ones to institute in their place; to acknowledge that sometimes, there are no easy answers; to show the working behind our positions, and to assess the logic with which other arguments are presented to us. Critical thinking is how we graduate from a simplistic, black-and-white view of morality to a more nuanced perception of the world - but this is a very hard lesson to learn if, instead of critical thinking, we’re taught instead to put our faith in rules alone.

So: what does it actually look like, when rule-based logic is applied in left-wing spaces? I’ll give you an example:

Sally is new to both social justice and fandom. She grew up in a household that punished her for asking questions, and where she was expected to unquestioningly follow specific hard rules. Now, though, Sally has started to learn a bit more about the world outside her immediate bubble, and is realising not only that the rules she grew up with were toxic, but that she’s absorbed a lot of biases she doesn’t want to have. Sally is keen to improve herself. She wants to be a good person! So Sally joins some internet communities and starts to read up on things. Sally is well-intentioned, but she’s also never learned how to evaluate information before, and she’s certainly never had to consider that two contrasting opinions could be equally valid - how could she have, when she wasn’t allowed to ask questions, and when she was always told there was a singular Right Answer to everything? Her whole framework for learning is to Look For The Rules And Follow Them, and now that she’s learned the old rules were Bad, that means she has to figure out what the Good Rules are.

Sally isn’t aware she’s thinking of it in these terms, but subconsciously, this is how she’s learned to think. So when Sally reads a post explaining how sex work and pornography are inherently misogynistic and demeaning to women, Sally doesn’t consider this as one side of an ongoing argument, but uncritically absorbs this information as a new Rule. She reads about how it’s always bad and appropriative for someone from one culture to wear clothes from another culture, and even though she’s not quite sure of all the ways in which it applies, this becomes a Rule, too. Whatever argument she encounters first that seems reasonable becomes a Rule, and once she has the Rules, there’s no need to challenge them or research them or flesh out her understanding, because that’s never been how Rules work - and because she’s grown up in a context where the foremost way to show that you’re aware of and obeying the Rules is to shame people for breaking them, even though she’s not well-versed in these subjects, Sally begins to weigh in on debates by harshly disagreeing with anyone who offers up counter-opinions. Sometimes her disagreements are couched in borrowed terms, parroting back the logic of the Rules she’s learned, but other times, they’re simply ad hominem attacks, because at home, breaking a Rule makes you a bad person, and as such, Sally has never learned to differentiate between attacking the idea and attacking the person.

And of course, because Sally doesn’t understand the Rules in-depth, it’s harder to explain them to or debate with rulebreakers who’ve come armed with arguments she hasn’t heard before, which makes it easier and less frustrating to just insult them and point out that they ARE rulebreakers - especially if she doesn’t want to admit her confusion or the limitations of her knowledge. Most crucially of all, Sally doesn’t have a viable framework for admitting to fault or ignorance beyond a total groveling apology that doubles as a concession to having been Morally Bad, because that’s what it’s always meant to her to admit you broke a Rule. She has no template for saying, “huh, I hadn’t considered that,” or “I don’t know enough to contribute here,” or even “I was wrong; thanks for explaining!”

So instead, when challenged, Sally remains defensive: she feels guilty about the prospect of being Bad, because she absolutely doesn’t want to be a Bad Person, but she also doesn’t know how to conceptualise goodness outside of obedience. It makes her nervous and unsettled to think that strangers could think of her as a Bad Person when she’s following the Rules, and so she becomes even more aggressive when challenged to compensate, clinging all the more tightly to anyone who agrees with her, yet inevitably ending up hurt when it turns out this person or that who she thought agreed on What The Rules Were suddenly develops a different opinion, or asks a question, or does something else unsettling.

Pushed to this sort of breaking point, some people in Sally’s position go back to the fundamentalism they were raised with, not because they still agree with it, but because the lack of uniform agreement about What The Rules Are makes them feel constantly anxious and attacked, and at least before, they knew how to behave to ensure that everyone around them knew they were Good. Others turn to increasingly niche communities and social groups, constantly on paranoid alert for Deviance From The Rules. But other people eventually have the freeing realisation that the fixation on Rules and Goodness is what’s hurting them, not strangers with different opinions, and they steadily start to do what they wanted to do all along: become happier, kinder and better-informed people who can admit to human failings - including their own - without melting down about it.

THIS is what we mean when we talk about puritan logic being present in fandom and left-wing spaces: the refusal to engage with critical thinking while sticking doggedly to a single, fixed interpretation of How To Be Good. It’s not always about sexuality; it’s just that sexuality, and especially queerness, are topics we’re used to seeing conservatives talk about a certain way, and when those same rhetorical tricks show up in our fandom spaces, we know why they look familiar.

So: how do you break out of rule-based thinking? By being aware of it as a behavioural pattern. By making a conscious effort to accept that differing perspectives can sometimes have equal value, or that, even if a given argument isn’t completely sound, it might still contain a nugget of truth. By trying to be less reactive and more reflective when encountering positions different to your own. By accepting that not every argument is automatically tied to or indicative of a higher moral position: sometimes, we’re just talking about stuff! By remembering that you’re allowed to change your position, or challenge someone else’s, or ask for clarification. By understanding that having a moral code and personal principles isn’t at odds with asking questions, and that it’s possible - even desirable - to update your beliefs when you come to learn more than you did before.

This can be a scary and disquieting process to engage in, and it’s important to be aware of that, because one of the main appeals of rule-based thinking - if not the key appeal - is the comfort of moral certainty it engenders. If the rules are simple and clear, and following them is what makes you a good person, then it’s easy to know if you’re doing the right thing according to that system. It’s much, much harder and frequently more uncomfortable to be uncertain about things: to doubt, not only yourself, but the way you’ve been taught to think. And especially online, where we encounter so many more opinions and people than we might elsewhere, and where we can get dogpiled on by strangers or go viral without meaning to despite our best intentions? The prospect of being deemed Bad is genuinely terrifying. Of course we want to follow the Rules. But that’s the point of critical thinking: to try and understand that rules exist in the first place, not to be immutable and unchanging, but as tools to help us be better - and if a tool becomes defunct or broken, it only makes sense to repair it.

Rigid thinking teaches us to view the world through the lens of rules: to obey first and understand later. Critical thinking teaches us to use ideas, questions, contexts and other bits of information as analytic tools: to put understanding ahead of obedience. So if you want to break out of puritan thinking, whenever you encounter a new piece of information, ask yourself: are you absorbing it as a rule, or as a tool?

#critical thinking #logic #rhetoric #purity culture #fandom #evangelism #hierarchy #thinking

10K notes · View notes

eemcintyre · 2 years ago

Text

"The Firm" (1993) review

*Baby's first published movie review

*At least 90s Tom Cruise is the height of pretty.

Right out of the gate, I can tell you that this wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen. It had a few good points for sure that I appreciated- I thought Jeanne did a respectable job as Abby, and girl was serving even at the funeral with that hairbow. Holly was also criminally underused as Tammy, who was my second favorite character in the book to Mitch. I missed queen Tammy. The autumnal aesthetic was also popping off and made me wanna eat some crunchy leaves. The jazzy soundtrack was good as music in itself, but a confusing choice for this movie that did not fit the mood and kept making me think I was watching “When Harry Met Sally.”

And that’s the extent of my praise; time to roast now. This movie is, I think, one of the most significant examples of why book-to-movie adaptations are always cause for some level of alarm. I could feel the filmmakers’ contempt for the source material emanating from the screenplay. The way that they were changing things even as minute and unnecessary as characters’ last names (Hodge/Hodges, Knauss/Krauss) and hair colors (Abby and Tammy are both magically redheads) just for the sake of changing them. And that’s to say nothing of the way the movie versions of the characters are devoid of any sense of nuance, and weirdly, sin? In the book, Mitch was a really interesting and relatable character because he was a person with flaws and inner moral conflict. He cheated on his wife (in a slimier way in the book too, I might add- no white knight scenario where he saves the girl and tends to her injuries) but never ended up confessing it to her, instead choosing to live haunted with the secret. He’s also a lot more demanding about money from the FBI and steals some extra from the firm as well, while in the movie he just gets a half a million and calls it a day. Additionally, he has a thinly veiled hatred for Abby’s parents and the book goes into much more detail about his own estranged family. Finally, his motivation for taking down the firm in the book is mostly about saving himself and the few he cares about, and less about going on some one-dimensional moralistic crusade full of monologuing about justice and the wonders of the legal system. But all of these flaws are what made Mitch human and his story interesting to follow. For me, personally, it’s not at all intriguing to watch a ~good character~ do ~good things~ out of ~good intentions~. Somewhat related but kind of opposite is also what they did to Avery- he was great in the book as the hedonistic loose cannon with no scruples who was slowly spiraling. And then in the movie they thought it was a good idea to throw in some weird redemption arc where he ~shows remorse for his misdeeds~ that felt so forced. Plus, this is me being picky, but Gene Hackman as a womanizing dilf was just not doing it for me.

Then there’s the plot, which had perhaps the most egregious of all the artistic blunders. Who on God’s green earth’s idea was it to water down all of the crimes Mitch had uncovered that the firm and the frickin mafia were accused of to… overbilling? The only thing Mitch gives the FBI proof of is that the firm was overbilling their clients? And then the mafia never gets prosecuted at all?? And this is noble and good for some reason because Mitch heroically refuses to violate attorney-client privilege and be disbarred, which in his state does not include if one’s client is committing illegal acts anyway so he could have literally turned over the mafia and still retained his damn license??? And this is also all on the premise that is trying so hard to be deep and edgy and philosophical: “well who’s really the bad guys, the mafia or the lawyers who protect them, huh?” Bro really thought he had something there but, um… both? It’s both. Oh, and then there’s no consequences for any of the information Mitch has given and the people he’s crossed, unlike in the book where he has to start all over in the middle of nowhere and leave everything behind, on the bad side of both the mafia and the government. In the movie, and I wish I was joking, he and Abby just hop right back into their old dinged-up car from the beginning and move happily to Boston like “Wow, that was a weird few months.” Ummmm... huh???

Overall, speaking of bad guys and their evil doings, the sense of dread, malice, and suspense that pervaded the book is just not there. I was constantly troubled by the feeling that something was Not Right, but didn’t know what, over the first big chunk of the book, and then once you know what’s going on, the stakes are so high and there is such a complex web of characters and their motivations and goals that you can hardly stand the stress and excitement wondering what will happen (which you do not feel sure about until the very last page). Sharing much less sensitive information and being on the bad side of fewer people in the movie, it’s hard to feel very concerned about how things are going to turn out, because the whole situation just doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. Nothing like the life-and-death risks of the constant chase from motel to motel and car to car over the last third of the book while Mitch, Abby, and Ray’s faces are also plastered all over the news.

This is all, of course, if one can even understand what is going on, which if you haven’t read the book, is really freakin hard. They tried to compress a book that’s more than an inch thick into a two-and-a-half-hour movie, which, though ambitious, is not a wise idea, especially when the book is already so convoluted with all its legal jargon and trying to keep track of all the characters and who knows/doesn’t know what. Honestly, the plot would have been much better executed with a “Fatal Vision” type miniseries, even just two parts, but preferably three-to-four. But alas.

The last thing I want to say, before I sign off of this unexpectedly long and hardass review, is: can anyone explain to me what in the fresh hell the random backflip scene was about? Because I can’t figure it out to save my life and it haunts me.

#tom cruise #the firm 1993 #the firm #movie review #john grisham #book adaptation #book to movie

9 notes · View notes

hyunyin · 4 years ago

Note

post about chan overstimulating reader 😼

all im saying is that if you read this while listening to AG’s let me love you the consequences are on you not me. as always, feedback is appreciated! love, rosie.

nsfw // oral, soft dom chan, praise (1.2k)

You’d had a stressful day. Not a bad one, just stressful. The one thing that had kept you going throughout the day was the conversation you’d had with your boyfriend over text during your short lunch break, in which he had promised to take good care of you when you got home. He never was the kind to break promises, which perfectly explained the position you found yourself in right now. “What do you need?” he asks, caging you in on the bed between his strong arms. You roll your eyes, slowly getting impatient. “What’s that?” He leans down until his lips are almost touching yours and takes your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger. “Is being a brat your thing now?” You smile against his lips in an attempt to get him to give in and fuck you already instead of continuing his teasing. “It might be if you keep this up.”

Unlucky for you, your boyfriend was the most patient person you had ever come across in your life. He would put up with your shit all night, and you probably should have considered that before you talked back to him. He raises an eyebrow and distances himself from you just the slightest bit before moving himself down to leave kisses on your neck. You can’t help but drag your nails down his back when he does so, the feeling sending shivers down your spine as he continues biting at your skin.

“Why do you act up like this, hm?” His lips graze over the spot on your neck that he was just sucking on. “Why do you like to be a brat,” he flicks his tongue over your nipple before moving back up to meet you face to face, “when you know I’ll give you everything you want?”

As soon as he finishes that sentence, he slams his dick into you, relatively slow but deep and firm. You arch your back up towards him, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around you to keep you there, placing his other hand on top of the headboard of the bed to brace himself. He fucks into you at a steady pace, latching his lips onto your neck. All you can do is lace a hand into his hair and hold onto him for dear life. “Fuck, Chan,” you manage to choke out. He chuckles against your skin, pulling out and slamming himself back into you at a breakneck pace. “You happy now, baby? Feeling better?” You throw your head back as he hits a good spot, moaning out for him. “Yes, oh my god- Chan, fuck!” His warm breath fans over your neck as he speaks. “Good, baby? Am I fucking you good? Tell me, dear.” Oh, what a sinful thing to hear. His sweet tone, talking down to you like his voice is laced with honey and dark sugar, saying lovely words with every filthy intention he can think of behind them in meaning. Your own little piece of heaven. “So good,” you whine, “Chan, I’m close.” As if you’ve given him a command, he lowers you onto the bed and lets go of the headboard. Immediately, his free hand finds its way down to your core and he starts rubbing his thumb on your clit. One, two, three small circles, and you’re coming undone under him, him chasing his own high not long after.

“Come back to me, baby.” You hear him above you and open your eyes, meeting his gaze. He grins when he sees the fucked out look in your eyes. “Tired?” You laugh softly when he runs his hand over your cheek and nod. “Yeah.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Good.”

He moves away from your face, and you think he’s on his way to lay down next to you when you feel his lips on your collarbone without warning, making your body jolt under his touch.

“But you’re a good girl, right? You can take more, right?” He’s making his way down your figure dangerously quickly, pressing his lips to every piece of exposed skin he can find. “Yes,” you moan out between your deep breaths. “Please, Chan. I can take more.” He smirks against your inner thigh, and draws a heart on your stomach with his hands, ever so sweet. “There we go. My sweet girl is back.” He presses a kiss to your wet folds and immediately has you melting into his hands. “So sensitive, baby, is it too much?” His voice is nothing if not mocking. He knows very well what he’s doing, and that, yes, it’s too much, but in a good way. A very sinful way, at that. You pull at his hair in response, knowing he’s mocking you, and he abruptly pulls away. “Ah-ah, there we go with that attitude again. Take it easy, darling.” He takes both of your wrists into one of his hands and rests them on your stomach, pressing his face to its spot in between your legs again while he rests his other hand on your thigh to brace himself. “Just relax, baby. Let me love you.”

A single flick of his tongue has you keening into him, holding onto his wrist with one of your hands. He knows exactly how to work you best, expertly moving his mouth to the sound of your moans.

When he feels you relaxing under his touch he lets go of your wrists, using his now free hand to push his fingers into you as he licks at your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers into you. His breath fanning over your heat is making the knot in your stomach tighten much quicker than you’d like to admit, but you do it anyway. “Chan, ‘m close.” He latches his lips back onto your most sensitive spot, this time sucking at it before replying to you. “I know, baby girl. Come for me.”

You don’t need much more than that. His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you know it you’re coming undone, your vision blurring into white while he laps up your juices from between your thighs. He sits back and wipes his chin with the back of his hand before coming up to lay next to you. He takes his time to settle in, resting on his side and pulling a blanket over you. “You alright, baby?” He gently peels some stray strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and pushes them behind your ear, caressing your cheek with his hand as he moves it to the back of your neck. “Yes. That was perfect.” Your voice comes out airy and light, your head still halfway up into the clouds from Chan’s ministrations. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you close against his chest.

“Wanna take a bath together?” He smiles softly down at you, drinking in the sight of your fucked out state leaning into his touch. “Yes. But stay with me here for a while first.”

385 notes · View notes

beardrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

rock solid bonds. pt. one

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 3,858 ( it’s LONG, y’all, sorry )

notes: first thing tossed into the genshin fandom is zhongli because i’m weak. so very weak. i know this idea is strange, but i’m running with it. this will have many parts, just not sure how many. anywho! :D hey. how’s it going? nice to meet’cha. oh!! also. i don’t have a beta reader, so there may be typos i’ve missed. oof.

You had made this trip several times before, and you assumed that this trip would be no different. You skirted around small packs of curious hilichurl, scooped up seashells from the many beaches you followed and swam through the clear, blue waters of Guyun Stone Forest until — finally — you reached the island you had been visiting over the course of several months.

The moment your water-logged feet touched solid ground rather than loose sand, you felt it — the faint traces of a low, constant vibration. It was a steady buzzing, except where the intensity would pulse every now and again, like a living heartbeat.

‘ It’s here, ’ you thought, ‘ good. ’

You hurried to rest against the crumbling wall of the ruins where the hypostasis often lingered, allowing yourself a moment to dry off and rummage through your supplies. No matter how routine this was, you knew you couldn’t become complacent. You could handle the stubborn bundle of geo, no problem, but you knew it never hurt to be prepared.

From your bag, you pulled out a wrapped bundle of fried fish and a single, elegant vial of a bright yellow liquid. You sloshed the liquid around, recalling the last time you’d been overconfident and forgone making the geo dampening potion. You had returned home that day with several more bruises the usual, and so you had firmly reminded yourself at you would prepare some, even if it had meant several days worth of butterfly chasing.

“You got lucky last time. Saw you learned a new move, but I’m smart. I learned.” You lifted the stopper out of the vial and knocked back the contents. The effects were immediate. You didn’t look it, but you felt thicker, sturdier, more centered. You hoped that was the effect of the potion, anyway. Nothing would sour your mood more than to realize the person you’d hired to make the potion had fouled it up.

Shrugging, you placed the empty vial into your pack, gulped down several bites of fried fish, then left your pack tucked up against the wall and behind a mess of tangled roots. Your hands moved next to the handle of your weapon, which peeked out from over your shoulder. With a heave, you brought out the claymore you so adored. It was nicked in places and scuffed in others, yet you found you were too attached. It had gotten you through too many battles, and it felt wrong to abandon it.

“Alright, we’ve got this. Just a few more months of this, and we can——!” Your self-given peptalk was cut short when you glanced around the wall and found that the hypostasis wasn’t alone. Choking on your own words, you quickly ducked back into the hiding. “Dammit! Someone’s already here.”

You set your claymore aside and pressed your hands to the wall, using it to lean around and peek.

“Huh. . .” Strange. Nearly every time you found the raw elemental, it had its defenses up. Even as it seemingly napped in place, it surrounded itself in solid, almost unbreakable basalt. Now, in front of this tall stranger, it was nothing more than its small, brightly glowing core. It bobbed and spun, giving off the sunshine-bright disposition of a puppy.

It was almost cute.

Interesting as the hypostasis was in this form, you found yourself drawn to the stranger interacting with it. Slender but strong, standing tall and straight, with a single hand that wove through the air around the exposed core. From where you stood, you couldn’t quite tell who he was, but something about him felt familiar.

‘ I’ve seen him before. ’ The earthen tones of his clothes and hair, the elegance and the poise. You were certain you had seen someone similar making their way through the streets of the harbor before. And, in his wake, came dreamy sighs and low purrs of admiration from all manner of people. The name eluded you, mostly because you didn’t care. He was a stranger, and you had no reason to acknowledge him until now.

“Why does it look like he’s playing with it?” You huffed through your nose, feeling thoroughly irritated that your chance to mine precious gems from the hypostasis had been squandered.

Without meaning to, you let out a groan of frustration.

The elemental core gave a sudden jolt, it’s small form jerking away from the man. In an instant, it wrapped itself in its armor, dark basalt etched with shimmering lines of gold appearing in large, even chunks. You gasped and ducked back for a second time, your heart rapidly beating against your chest. It didn’t know you were there. It couldn’t! You weren’t that loud, were you?

“Moron!” You scolded yourself and made to snatch your pack up when a voice, smooth and deep, reached you.

“I know you’re there.”

You stopped and stood still, as if that would render you completely untraceable. Breath held, but heart still hammering, you waited.

“It would benefit you greatly to come out of hiding.” The voice continued, calm and even.

Something about the voice made you reluctant to run. Shuddering and setting aside your things, you willingly stepped out from behind the crumbling ruins. Hands up and empty, you first revealed that you were unarmed. Harmless. Totally harmless.

“Ah, there you are.” There was a hint of satisfaction in the man’s tone, but you hardly paid attention. Your focus was intent on the sensation soaking through the soles of your boots. The vibration from earlier wasn’t as calm as it had been, the heartbeat-like thrum from earlier replaced with an anxious tattoo that traveled through your legs and up into your chest. You found yourself catching your breath, a horrible feeling welling inside your ribcage.

“Am I causing that?” Your own voice was soft and feeble and sincere. The man approached at a slow but steady clip, until he stood a mere foot away. His arms were folded behind him, making him appear even more refined up close.

“I wasn’t expecting you to realize your mistake so quickly. Good. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining it.” He arched a single brow. “Might I ask your name?”

“Uh. . .” You shook yourself from your mounting guilt and lowered your hands. He was polite, but you could tell from the sharp look in his amber eyes that he didn’t approve of your presence, and rightfully so. Still, you didn’t want to deny him your name when he had yet to force you off the island. You muttered your name, and he let out a thoughtful hum before repeating it.

Never had you heard your own name on a voice that alluring. It balanced on a fine line between heavenly and sinful, and you wished deeply that he would never, ever say it again. It sounded too good, and your heart already had its share of problems to deal with at the moment, shame being one of them.

“Seen you around the harbor before, but I can’t remember your name.” You gently prompted him to give his own name in return, hoping it wouldn’t be seen as rude. The corner of his lips turned up a fraction, but that hint of a smile didn’t last long.

“I am Zhongli. Under different circumstances, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you.” Still scolding, still disapproving. You shrank under his gaze, but still found it in you to speak in turn.

“I’ve never seen it out of its armor for that long before.” You observed.

“I wonder why that is. . .” Zhongli turned to face the elemental, his broad shoulders rising and lowering with a heavy sigh. Guilt punched you in the gut again.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you had never once been convinced that your mining had been detrimental to the hypostasis.

“It cannot speak for itself, so you were lead to believe that your harvesting was harmless.” Zhongli mused as he ventured towards the elemental again. “That is understandable. But now that you are aware, now that you feel the effect your presence has on it, are you willing to change?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but were stopped but a sudden thought.

For the sake of a voiceless, sentient being, were you willing to change? Yes. Were you able? No.

You hurried to follow Zhongli and weren’t the least bit surprised when the hypostasis kept its distance, basalt armor quaking with fear. You stopped your advance, keeping well behind Zhongli.

“I can’t.”

“Oh?” He didn’t turn his attention to you, but kept it intent on the elemental. He lifted a gloved hand, the palm resting carefully along the surface of one cube of armor. “That is a shame. I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”

“No, it’s — it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to! I didn’t know it was. . .”

“Capable of feelings?”

You nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see you.

“All things feel, all things remember. The lack of a voice does not make one unworthy of thoughts or memories, good or bad.” Zhongli smoothed his hand over the armor of the hypostasis. “It remembers. You are quite brutal.”

“I’m sorry.” You directed this to the hypostasis rather than him. “I didn’t know.”

“And yet you blatantly refuse to change your behavior?” Zhongli’s sharp gaze landed on you again.

“I have an obligation! I’m bound to my word.” Your hackles rose for a moment, but were lowered again soon after. “I have a contract.”

At this, Zhongli came to face you. “A contract?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you.” Your stubbornness reared its ugly head in that moment. Arms crossed, you waited for him to coldly dismiss you. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and cooly stared you down.

“Contracts are, for better or worse, binding. I understand that, when broken, there can be dire consequences. Is this an official contract?” He wondered. You wanted to hold firm to your refusal to speak of it, but the man’s calm nature made it difficult.

Shifting uneasily, you gave another nod.

“Yes.”

��Are you barred from discussing the terms of the contract with people unrelated to the contract itself?” Each question was asked quickly and sharply, as if practiced. You frowned, moreso out of thought than offense.

“I don’t think so. No one’s ever told me I’m not allowed.”

“Then, please, indulge me. What about this contract requires you to mine as often as you do?”

“You want the long version or the short version?” You reached up to rub at the space between your eyebrows, mounting stress threatening to bring forward a headache.

“Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“If you say so. My family’s in a tight spot, yeah? We owe some people a lot of money, but most of the people involved are too old, too frail or too inexperienced to go out and earn the mora we need. The people that are hounding us thought, hey, let’s get the daughter to go out and find these precious materials. No one can pass up on free labor, right? I work for them, I slowly whittle away at the debt my family’s worked up for the last few years.” You shrugged casually to hide the fact that the contract was draining you of your free time and, apparently, your morals.

Zhongli frowned, a wrinkle knitting his brows together.

“What are the exact terms on your contract?” He asked, ignoring a nudge against his shoulder from the hypostasis.

“There are quite a few, but the one causing me the most trouble right now is the fact that I need to come here every day and pick out the prithiva from your friend there.” You didn’t miss the shudder in the rocks or the way the hypostasis fled yet again, putting space between you and itself. Zhongli motioned for the hypostasis to calm, but the trembling remained.

“I need the terms as they were worded the day the contract was made.” Zhongli requested firmly this time.

“Three prithiva gems, whole and unblemished, every day for a year. Even if it means getting the slivers and asking someone to do their alchemy-thing on it, I gotta get those gems.”

Zhongli’s stern gaze softened as he motioned for the hypostasis to come nearer.

“That’s all?”

“When it comes to this fella, yeah. I just need the gems.” This time, you were the one to step away from the coming hypostasis. It was clear you had scarred the creature, and you weren’t about to disrespect it in front of this man, who so clearly cherished the living geo.

“You aren’t required to fight and take it?” He continued.

“They never said I did, but it was the only way I could think to fulfill the terms.” You slumped in place and let out a little whine. “Don’t tell me I could have just asked for it.”

“Did you consider the possibility?” Zhongli quipped.

“No! I didn’t think it could understand people!” You stressed with a growl. Zhongli chuckled, the sound taking you aback.

“It doesn’t understand language, but it understands intent. Come here.” The command was subtle, but you felt compelled to obey. Cautiously, you took to Zhongli’s side. His taller frame shadowed yours, and you swore you caught the scent of sun-warmed stones and hints of glaze lilies as an errant ocean breeze whorled past. “Put your hand out, like me.”

You hesitated, and he took note of this.

“Be calm. If you’re afraid, it will know.” He coaxed you, sounding far gentler than he had since calling you out of your hiding spot.

“I’m not afraid,” you corrected, “I feel bad.”

“As deserving as the feeling is, you can make it right if it is your intent to.” Zhongli pointed out. You sucked in a breath, nodded once, then held your hand out. The hypostasis shuddered again and bobbed backwards. Zhongli frowned like a disapproving father and clicked his tongue. “I understand that she’s been cruel, but I believe her when she says she was unaware of how sentient you are. If we are to make amends, the effort needs to be mutual on both parts. As long as I am here, neither of you will come to harm.”

The hypostasis twitched and the armor around it lowered for a moment, but it was fleeting. In a small fit of hope, you drew closer and placed your hand against the glimmering armor. The protective chunks of rock snapped back into place around its dim core, spun rapidly in the air, then sunk down into the ground where all that remained were spider-web cracks that glowed as warm and bright as the sun.

You stood there, hand out and mouth agape.

“It ran away!”

Zhongli lowered his head for a moment. “This was not the result I imagined, but it is progress.”

You lowered your hand and rolled your eyes.

“How is that progress?” You snapped. Zhongli didn’t so much as flinch at your aggression, but sported a knowing smile that irritated your further.

“Gimel let you near without attacking out of instinct. I would say that counts as progress, small step as it is.” He spoke assuredly, and you supposed he had a point.

“Gimel?”

“It has a name. It may work in your favor to remember it.” Zhongli added.

“Yeah, well — what am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back empty-handed.” You grumbled and turned away, stalking back to the spot where you had stashed your bag. The effects of the potion you had drank earlier had begun to ware off, leaving you feeling oddly light and slightly off-balance. That, coupled with your plummeting mood, made you want to leave behind the island and hope that your contract wasn’t seen as broken.

Behind you, you heard the steady click of boots as Zhongli followed behind you.

“I have an offer.” He stopped when you did, and he didn’t miss the flicker of confusion and wariness in your eyes when you spun around.

“What kind of offer?” You were like a cornered animal, and you wondered if he had sensed your growing worry since Gimel had disappeared. You weren’t desperate yet, but that may have been because you had yet to fail in completing your end of the contract. The consequences were unknown, but you were sure you would regret returning to Liyue Harbor without the gems you were asked to retrieve. Still, you were concerned, and you knew it was hard to hide when you fidgeted the way you did.

“A contract.”

“No.”

“One that won’t break the conditions of the contract you’re currently bound to.” He continued in spite of your quick refusal. You crossed your arms and wrinkled your nose, but it only caused him to smile again. “Don’t be stubborn, girl.”

You scowled and felt a rare flare of anger rise, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head and a raise of his closed hand. Long, slender fingers unfurled, revealing a small handful of pristine prithiva topaz gemstones. It wasn’t out of greed that you lunged forward, but a deep desire to protect yourself and your family. You didn’t grab the gems, of course. It wouldn’t do to anger this man after he had shown you patience, but you wouldn’t deny that it was a tempting sight to see him holding the gems out for you to take.

You whetted your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and spoke past the sandpaper feeling in your throat.

“What are your terms?” You croaked.

“You return to this place every day, unarmed and alone, to spend time with Gimel. In return, you will be rewarded with the gems required of you. As it’s clear they didn’t specify how you acquire them, it will not interfere with the terms of your current contract.” He raised both brows this time and held the gems out further. Your fingers twitched as you reached, but you didn’t take them.

“That’s all you want out of me?”

“We are merely acquaintances, but I hardly find it worthwhile to trick you into a dishonest contract. My terms are as simple as they sound. You cease hostilities against Gimel and attempt to right your wrongs, and you will have your gems. I only ask for a few hours spent here, nothing more. I can’t expect you to wrap your entire life around this one task.” He reached out to take one of your hands, turning the palm up. His touch was gentle and didn’t contest with your own freewill, but you let him do as he pleased.

His thumb uncurled your your fingers, followed the deep lines in your palm and smoothed over your wrist. Your cheeks burned, but you blamed the glaring sun overhead. He was only being kind, you told yourself.

“If I accept these, does that mean I accept the contract?”

“I’m afraid so.” He stepped closer, head and voice low. His dark hair framed his stoic expression, yet his hand on yours remained kind. “Your answer?”

You swallowed hard, weighed your options, then peered up into those vivid, autumn-tinted eyes. “Will you be here too?”

You weren’t sure what prompted such a question, but it seemed to catch him as off-guard as well. He blinked and pulled back for a moment. “Is this an amendment?”

“No,” you shook your head and dared to laugh, “just a request. I don’t think Gimel will trust me on my own, not at first.”

“Its trust will be be earned by your own merits, not because I am here.” Zhongli informed you stiffly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just think — maybe it would help if I observed you for a little while, maybe a few days. I can see how better to approach, then you can leave us be.” You tilted your head. “Is that unreasonable?”

“I. . . suppose it’s not. You are willing to learn, at least, and I cannot fault you for that. Very well. Starting tomorrow, I will accompany you for three days. After that, you are expected to use what you’ve learned on your own.” He closed his fingers around the gemstones and twisted his wrist, readying himself to drop them into your waiting hand. “Has your answer changed?”

You shook your head. “No, I planned to accept before.”

“Then we’re in agreement? You are aware of what will happen if you break the contract?” He warned. You nodded.

“I’m aware, trust me.” You wiggled your fingers impatiently. Zhongli placed the gems into your hand one at time, being sure not to chip or scratch them.

“Then it is done. I won’t be truly satisfied until you’ve signed a physical contract and we’ve made it official, but I will hold onto your word for the time being.” He helped your hand close around the gems, both of his own hands wrapped tightly around your clenched digits. “Find me at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor later tonight, and we can document our arrangement.”

“Sure thing, boss.” You pulled your hand away, the sensation of the gems in your grasp bringing you far more ease than you were happy with. To be so dependent on them made you nauseous, but Zhongli’s willingness to help made it a little less so. Although, you couldn’t help but to wonder why he was so quick to help. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Is it not human nature to want to help?”

“I guess, but. . . there aren’t many that are as open and willing as you are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. It’s just unexpected. I didn’t think today would end the way it would.” You squirreled away the gems in your satchel, slung it over your shoulders, then affixed your claymore onto your back.

“Are you disappointed?” Zhongli calmly watched you pack up, head tilted slightly.

“Not at all.” You spared him a smile, a weight gradually lifting off your heart and shoulders. “I was annoyed at first, but I’m glad we got to meet, Mr. Zhongli.”

Another peel of soft laughter left the man, but it was hidden behind the side of his hand. “Then I will readily admit that I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m relieved you were so willing to cooperate, and. . . I am glad we had the chance to meet as well.”

You bounced once on the tips of your feet and gave him a mock salute. “Guess that means I’ll be seein’ you later! I’m going to pass these gems on, then I’ll pop by your place to sign my life away!”

You didn’t address the crinkle in his face at your jest, but you did snicker as you fled the island. Only when you were well out of sight did Gimel return, its core open to the air and nudging against Zhongli’s elbow.

The archon reached back to give the hypostasis a gentle stroke, but his eyes remained in the direction you had wandered off in.

“I have a feeling that our time with her will be very interesting.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #s: rock solid bonds #yes i made the hypostasis a character #i was fighting it and i couldn't help but to wonder if zhongli goes and visits it to see if it's recovering well enough #end me #dipping my toes in a new fandom WHEEZES

161 notes · View notes

obeyme-kaidii-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Greed - Angelic Demons (2/2)

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 2596

Content warnings - angst, lots of comfort

Prompt/Inspiration - Angelic Demons Event

Summary - Following the events in the “Angelic Demons” event where all the brothers are turned into angels and forced to wear magical bangles that correct their behavior.

You go to check on Mammon to see how he is doing now that he’s reverted back to his demonic self and no longer under the effects of the angelic magic.

AO3 | Part One - Envy

It had been a few days now since the magic from the cursed (because that’s what they were to you) bangles had worn off. Diavolo had also finally removed the outfits so everyone was more or less back to normal. At least, that’s how it appeared at first glance. In reality, Satan was probably the only one you saw much of as everyone else had made themselves scarce, recovering from the stress of being forced to remember their time as angels.

Two demons in particular seemed to have gone even more silent than the rest and you were starting to grow concerned so you had decided to check on them.

“GO AWAY!”

You blinked a few times, processing Mammon’s response to you knocking on his door. You hadn’t expected him to sound so angry. But given the circumstances, you understood why he would be. He may not have been angry with you - but since he was hiding out in his room, yelling at you was probably the only outlet he had.

“Mammon, I need to talk to you. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

There was no response from Mammon, so you tried the door knob. Much to your surprise it was unlocked, so you let yourself inside. And the sight that greeted you took your breath away.

Now, Mammon’s room had always been sort of a mess. He was impulsive, and easily distracted, so things often got left right where he set them when he went off to do something else. He still managed to maintain a minimal level of cleanliness though. You could always see the floor. There had always been seats on his sofa. The top of his pool table would be visible.

But going into his room now? It looked like something off that TV show Hoarders you used to watch in the human realm. And it wasn’t just things on his floor either (though make no mistake, there were a lot of those). There was trash too - empty noodle cups, soda cans, wine bottles, shipping boxes. You couldn’t understand how someone could acquire so much garbage in so little time.

“Mammon, what the hell happened in here?” your eyes scanned the room, taking in as much as you could of what was before you, “Mammon?” You called out to him again when he didn’t respond. You would have thought he’d have been trying to chase you out, but it seemed that now that you were here and he was instead going to attempt to hide and hope you just went away.

As you looked around for Mammon, you heard the sound of a plastic noodle cup fall to the floor. You turned in the direction of the noise, and there was Mammon, sitting in his bed, bundled up under his blankets, looking intently at his DDD.

“Hey,” you said as you walked towards him, clearing off a space on the bed next to him.

He didn’t acknowledge you, and just kept scrolling through some app on his DDD. You scooted a bit closer to him, so that you were almost touching and your back was against the wall, before leaning over and taking a look at his screen. He was on Akuzon.

Now everything made sense to you. He must have been buying things online and having them delivered straight to his room. Since everyone else had been distracted with their own things, no one had noticed the influx of deliveries. And it had all happened so quickly, you doubt Lucifer had even received the bill yet.

“What are you doing?”

“Shopping.”

“Looking for something in particular?”

“Nope.”

You knew that shopping was a bit of a therapeutic thing for Mammon, just like gambling could be. That rush of finding something new, of feeling like you won. But this was excessive, even for him. Usually he’d have some sort of goal in mind - new clothes maybe, a new video game he wanted to try, or something nice for you. You hadn’t seen him just mindlessly buying things before. He hardly looked like he was even paying attention to what exactly he was putting in his cart.

“How have you been feeling?”

“Great.”

“Oh...that’s good. I’ve been worried about you.”

Mammon scoffed. Worried about him? Why would anyone be worried about him? He was the scummy second born, after all. And surely after this past week you knew exactly how scummy he was since you were able to see what he could be like if he wasn’t. So what was the point in even trying anymore? He was a demon wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he just indulge his sin? It’s not like it mattered. It’s not like it would change anything.

That’s what he thought, at least. Or rather, tried to convince himself of. But with each purchase he made and each delivery he accepted, he felt the emptiness inside him grow. It had gotten to the point he wasn’t even opening the packages anymore. Just letting them pile up wherever they fell when he sat them down.

“Mammon?”

“Nuthin’. It’s fine.”

“Oh ok.” You studied his profile for a moment while you thought about how exactly you were going to handle this. He wasn’t giving you a lot to work with here, and you were running out of questions you could ask. But maybe you didn’t need to say anything right now? Maybe for right now you could just sit with him.

You scooched over a little more, looping your arm through Mammon’s and resting your head on his shoulder. You felt him stiffen under you briefly, before relaxing again and resuming his scrolling.

“Whattya doin’?”

“I just thought I’d sit with you for a little bit. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.”

Mammon didn’t really have anything to say to that, so he continued with his shopping. Unconsciously though, he slowly rested his own head on top of yours and it made you smile, feeling more confident in your choice to just stay with him.

As he scrolled, you started pointing out things that looked interesting to you, hoping to engage him in conversation. He was surprised to hear you apparently helping him shop, and not scolding him. Though he supposed that was more Lucifer’s territory than yours. You never really got on to him when he messed up. At first, he had thought it was because you might be a bit dim and didn’t realize all the trouble he’d get himself into. But as he got to know you, he realized you saw a lot more than you let on, and you were actively choosing to let those things go, supporting and encouraging him instead.

Not seeing any reason not to, Mammon began replying to your questions and pointing out things to you as well. It wasn’t long before he was laughing along with you too, as you both found progressively more ridiculous things for sale, shopping now completely forgotten. He should have known better than to think he could ignore you and that you’d just leave. You had this ability to just worm your way into his heart, no matter how many defenses he thought he had in place. He was just no match for you.

And well, he was kinda thankful for that right now. He had missed you. A lot. More than he’d care to admit. But he had been so ashamed of himself, he didn’t know what else to do besides lock himself away. The stupid bracelet made him painfully aware of just how much of a screw up he was.

Before, he had always imagined that he was able to make you proud of him. He liked showing off for you, if for no other reason than to see you smile. He pushed himself to work harder, to be more open with you, even to cause less trouble for Lucifer. But then the bangle happened...and he saw just how short he fell.

The gulf between his “angelic persona” and his “demonic persona” was just felt so vast. Too vast. He was never going to be someone worthy of you.

So he just gave up.

Sensing that Mammon had become a bit lost in his thoughts, you sat up. As soon as your head started to leave his shoulder, he realized that he had been resting his against yours. He jerked his head up immediately, blushing heavily. You let out a soft chuckle when you saw how flustered he was, satisfied that he seemed to be a bit more relaxed and like his old self than when you had first found him.

“You alright?” you asked.

“Umm yeah, fine.”

“Ok,” you paused briefly, taking a breath before continuing, “Do you think we could talk now?”

“‘bout what?”

“Umm, well…” you hesitated, hoping you weren’t overstepping your bounds and about to send him back into his shell, “...about all this, actually,” you said, gesturing around the room.

“Oh.” Mammon’s blush only deepened as he took a quick glance around the room. He hadn’t noticed how bad things had gotten until then. It was like he had tunnel vision, and had only been able to see the path directly between his bed and the door, and nothing else.

“Just felt like doing a little shoppin’ is all.”

“Oh? Well, I’ve just never seen you buy so much stuff before…”

“Well, ya don’t know everything about me,” he replied. He wasn’t sure why, but he was feeling on edge now. Things had been nice when you had been just sitting with him, not talking about anything of consequence. But now you were trying to meddle. He didn’t want the proof of his failure pointed out, and he didn’t want to know you knew either.

“Mammon...I’m just trying to understand...” you pulled back a little to get a better look at him.

“I’m just being who I’m supposed to be. You don’t need to understand.”

“Mammon…!” your thoughts were racing now. What had gotten into him? Everything had switched so quickly from the fun, happy moment you had been sharing - to unconcealed anger. You hadn’t been trying to make him feel bad, you just wanted to know why he was acting how he was, and what you could do to help. But your line of questioning had apparently set him off.

“This is who I am, ok?!” he snapped, instantly regretting it, “It’s all I’m good for! Just stop...please…” his voice sounded so weak now, cracking as it trailed off.

Slowly, you reached out to cup his cheek and turn his head back towards you. You had expected him to resist, but he didn’t. And when your eyes met his, you could see exactly how much pain he was in. He looked even more confused than you felt. You started to stroke his cheek with your thumb, and he closed his eyes, partly to avoid looking at you any longer, and partly so he could enjoy the sensation of your hand on his cheek.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him toward you and hugging him. Again, he didn’t resist, he just let you have your way. You were a bit saddened when you realized he wasn't hugging you back, but you noticed he hadn’t pushed you away yet either, so you continued to hold him and nuzzle into his neck.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” you begged.

There was no response from Mammon, but you felt his arms begin to loop around your waist, soon pulling you into his lap, with your legs perpendicular to his. He mimicked your hold, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were so warm. And you smelt so good. He had missed being this close to you.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say now. A minute ago he had lashed out at you, angry and defensive, and now he was holding you and trying not to cry. His emotions were a jumbled, chaotic mess, and he just felt so...helpless.

“...I don’t...know…” he mumbled.

“That’s ok. It’s ok,” you soothed, as you started combing your fingers through his hair. Nothing was said for a while, the two of you simply holding each other; you hoping to convey how much you cared for him, and Mammon hoping you could tell how lost he felt.

“I’m Greed ain’t I…? This is what Greed does. It’s what it is…” he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper, tightening his grip on your waist.

“What are you talking about...?”

“It's reckless, and impulsive, and selfish.”

Why was he saying these things? He called himself impulsive, and sure, you couldn’t really argue with that. But selfish? He didn’t look that way to you. Not to say he never did anything in his own self interest, but he had this way of looking out for his brothers and you. Especially you.

“You’re not selfish, Mammon. Why would you think that?” You kept your voice low and calm, as you continued stroking his head and running your fingers through his hair.

“...because I am...aren’t I…? Takin’ things from my brothers...wastin’ all your time…”

“Hey, you never waste my time, ok? I like spending time with you.”

“...I dunno why…”

“Because you’re The Great Mammon, why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?” you replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Mammon didn’t answer, but you saw the blush start creeping across his cheeks, before resting your head on top of his.

“Look, you might be Greedy, but that’s not always a bad thing, you know?”

“...it’s not?”

“No, it’s not. I never felt that way when I spent time with you. You always made me feel loved, and happy, and safe.”

“...”

“If you were as awful and selfish as you seem to think you are, you wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“...”

“And what about that little girl, huh? The one you told me about before. The one you take care of. You weren’t an angel when you did that.”

Oh. How had he forgotten about her? Or that he had told you?

“Just because you are a demon doesn’t mean you don’t have good qualities, you know? And it doesn’t mean the bad ones get to overshadow all the good things about you either.”

“Do ya mean that? That I have good qualities?”

“Yeah, Mammon, I do.”

“...even though Imma demon?”

“Even though you’re a demon,” you answered, kissing the top of his head, “You are more than just your Greed. You get to make your own choices.”

Mammon listened carefully to what you had to say, each word making his heart feel a little lighter and his outlook a bit brighter. Maybe...maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed.

“Besides, I like Greedy Mammon. The Mammon that wants to spend all his time with me and never leave my side. I’d be awfully lonely without him around.”

Hearing you say that warmed his heart, thawing the last bits of ice that had settled there. You were right. Just because he had bad moments, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed good ones too. He was an Avatar after all - he commanded Greed, it didn’t control him. He wasn’t just some mindless, lower tier demon that was helpless against their sin. He got to decide when and how he would act. And if he had to be Greedy for anything, it would be your attention. It didn’t have to be material things (well, at least not all the time).

“...yeah...I guess ya’d be pretty bored without me too,” he said, lifting his head to look at you.

“Oh definitely. Very bored,” you replied, with a smile.

“Err...do ya think you can help me with something?”

“Sure.”

“Returning all that before Lucifer gets the bill,” he said, gesturing to the piles of junk behind you, “or well, most of it.”

“Of course,” you replied, kissing him on the cheek, “We will need to take the trash out too.”

“Sure we can’t just get Beel to eat it?” he asked, with a cheeky grin

“Mammon!”

“What?!”

#gn!mc #poly mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #mammon fanfic #mammon x mc #mammon x poly mc #obey me angst #obey me comfort #mammon angst #mammon comfort

207 notes · View notes

prettyricky187 · 5 years ago

Text

Devil Incarnate

Request: No- I was just feeling some type of way

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and commented on Reid To Me? It is very much appreciated. I hope you like this one as well. Requests are open.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Category: Smut, just straight smut Content Warnings: public sex, oral (male receiving), porn without plot Word Count: 2.2K

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

I swear I was in love with the devil incarnate. She got her entertainment from teasing me and making me flustered at the most inopportune moments. Even now, as we waited for our takeaway to be ready, she was standing in front of me, scrolling on her phone while casually circling her hips against my steadily growing erection.

“Stop moving.” I grunted quietly.

“Why? Is it bothering you?” She grinned up at me. I looked at her with a look that she knew all too well. It was the look that said I knew what she was up to, but refused to partake. She always took it as a challenge.

“Stop,” was all I said but it was only met with a giggle as my name was called.

We had almost made it to the car when she dragged me into the nearby alleyway. She backed me against the wall, pressing herself flush against me. Her lips were like a fucking drug, drawing me in despite the risks involved. The euphoria derived from her kisses was worth whatever consequences would follow. My hands framed her face as I kept her close to me. I could never get enough of her. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

There were always butterflies in my stomach whenever she touched me, but feeling her fingers drag across the skin above my pants sent them into a flurry that would’ve knocked me off my feet had I not been leaning against the wall.

She dropped the bag and made quick work of my belt. She silenced my protests with a harsh kiss when I felt my pants being opened. The sound of the buckle moving around rung out in the quiet air, making it obvious what was happening; as if my pants being mid-thigh wasn’t obvious enough.

“What are you doing? We can’t do this!” I whispered, looking around at all the different ways this poorly thought out plan could go wrong. This was a bad idea.

“Come on Spencer, live a little.” She giggled as she brought her hand to palm at my bulge.

“There are plenty of ways to live that don’t involve us getting arrested for indecent exposure or lewd acts in public!” I couldn’t help the rise in pitch of my voice as the nerves set in.

“The longer you argue with me, the longer you’re out here in your underwear.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” I mumbled against her lips. I felt her grin when I bucked my hips into her hand, desperate for more friction. I hissed at the way she trailed a finger along the outline of my erection through my underwear.

“What a way to go, am I right?” She teased, dipping her finger under the band. She giggled as my cock bounced out once she pulled my briefs down.

“You’re already so hard. Is that for me?” She asked innocently, like she hadn’t been torturing me for the past 15 minutes and 46 seconds; grinding on my erection in the restaurant then giggling to herself whenever I shifted to try and hide it.

“You already know it is.” I growled, watching her closely. She smiled and began slowly lowering herself to her knees. Any protests I had died on my lips as her intentions became clearer.

“What…what are you doing?”

Logically, I knew where her actions would lead, but I couldn’t believe she would really try this in public. Anyone could walk by at any point and we would be in so much trouble.

“And you say you’re a genius.” She smirked without stopping. Goosebumps rose when her hot breath met the already flushed skin of my hips. “Keep an eye out. I’d hate for us to be interrupted.”

Once she was eye level with my dick, she placed a pert kiss on the tip.

“Oh fuck.” I moaned at the sensation. The sight of her on her knees before me was always something to marvel at. Although it seemed as though I was the one in control, the man towering over the woman, we both knew she held the power in this situation. I would always do anything she asked of me.

“That’s better.” She smirked up at me as she gently placed strategic kisses against my skin. I kept waiting for her to actually dosomething, but she kept avoiding the place where I needed her the most. Each kiss sent shockwaves throughout my body, building the anticipation to unbearable levels.

“Don’t tease me.”

She grinned, continuing to press kisses along the sides, purposely ignoring my aching tip. She was a fucking tease and I loved it, but I also really hated it. She was truly the devil.

“I would never.” The look that accompanied her lie was sinful. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she relished in it; knowing that she could get me so wound up to the point that I snapped at her. It was a game to her, and I’d dare say it was one of her favorites.

“Then put your fucking mouth on me.” I ordered, pressing my hand on the back of her head. We didn’t have much time; the alley would only be empty for so long. As hot as this was, I really wasn’t keen on actually getting caught.

“So impatient.”

The initial warmth that spread through me as she wrapped her lips around me was always pure bliss. I let out a loud moan as my head hit the brick wall behind me, so distracted that I couldn’t even care about who might walk by and hear us. Her mouth tightened around me and I stifled a low groan, the little that remained of the logical part of my brain desperately trying not to draw any further attention to us.

Fuck she was way too good at this; she always knew how to turn me into putty for her.

“Lick it.”

I watched with rapt attention as she maintained eye contact, sticking her tongue out and sloppily licking at the tip before gliding her mouth along the underside of my dick.

“Fuck,” I hissed, “lick the tip.”

My instruction spurred her on. My abdomen clenched as she took more of me in before swirling her tongue around my tip like it was her favorite flavor ice cream cone. The heat from her tongue followed by the immediate cold from the night air was a conflicting sensation that felt beyond words.

“Please,” I begged, “I need more.” I bucked my hips as I spoke, needing more of her mouth on me. I couldn’t help it; I wanted my dick down her throat. Every time I tried to push further into her mouth, she would pull away with that damned smirk.

After a moment of the cat and mouse game, I finally put my hands on her head to keep her steady as I buried myself inside her mouth. I decidedly ignored her mumbled comment about how bossy I was as I lolled my head back, just losing myself in the sensations of the wet warmth surrounding my cock.

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Fucking…take it!” I bucked my hips forward and down her throat. As ordered, she took each thrust in stride before pulling off of me to breathe. The sight of the string of saliva that connected my tip to her lips was downright filthy, and I brought my thumb down to trace the side of her mouth. I was usually fairly thankful for my eidetic memory, but never more so than now, because it meant that I would never forget how she looked in that moment.

“You taste so good, Spencer.” She moaned, moving her hand up and down my dick. “I missed your cock, especially in my mouth. Been too long since I’ve gotten to suck you off.”

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me at her words. I always loved her telling me how much she wanted me. Knowing that she wanted me was enough to make me feel proud as a peacock.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Cases took me away from home far too often, but thankfully she understood and never held it against me. I loved her immensely for it. She shook her head and took me back in her mouth, bobbing at a steady pace. It wasn’t until she could feel my thighs tense before she pulled off once again.

“You gonna cum for me Spencer?” She asked, using her hand to jack me off in the absence of her mouth. “You want to cum on my face?”

Oh fuck; my heart stopped as I recalled an image of her face painted in my cum. That seemed like an incredibly appealing option. However, since I didn’t want to make a mess without a way to clean it up, that would have to wait for another day.

“You better put me back in your mouth. You’re not wasting this.”

The noise she made was halfway between a moan and a squeak, but she complied and wrapped her lips around me again. I watched in awe as she sloppily sucked on me. I’m sure some of the noises she made weren’t necessary, but fuck if they weren’t music to my ears. The combination of slurps and moans was enough to bring me even closer to the edge. She knew how to hit on each one of my senses to make it an all-consuming event every time.

“So fucking good. Always make me feel so good.” I knew she picked up on the tension in my voice. “Always look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

She let out a pleased moan and bobbed her head faster. My toes curled in my shoes as sparks shot up my spine as I neared my end.

“Stop.” I put my hands on the sides of head and held her still. “I want to fuck your face.”

The grin she returned told me she'd known exactly what I was going to say before I had even said it. I slowly began thrusting into her mouth, moaning as she kept swirling her tongue around me. I couldn’t help but moan at how slick everything felt as I slid past her lips. I sheathed myself particularly deep and held still for a moment, grunting at the feeling of her contracting around me before pulling back out. I felt my abdomen clench as I realized how wet my balls were, not doubt the spit that dribbled out as I fucked her face.

I stared at her face, unshed tears in her eyes and her wet lips, while I used my hand on myself. She practically whimpered, trying to lean forward to take me back in her mouth, but I held her back with my other hand.

“Don’t be greedy.” I chided, shaking my head.

“This was my idea.” Her eyes didn’t leave my hand and I could see the desire to be in its place. “Please.”

Oh, that breathy plea always did something to me; I could never say no to it.

Without saying anything, I let go of my cock and brought her head back down.

“You really do love my dick, don’t you?” I grunted. She moaned and nodded, swirling her tongue around as she sucked. Fuck, I loved her tongue.

“Suck it.” I moved my hips faster. I could almost imagine I was fucking her. “So good.” Everything was so warm, wet, and tight that I couldn’t take it any longer.

My jaw dropped as my orgasm hit me like freight truck, but I could hardly muster a sound. It felt like every muscle in my body tensed as I tried to get as deep in her throat as I could possibly go; it never felt like enough. My fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her flush against me as I shot my load down her throat. She made no noises of complaint as my hips rutted against her face with the aftershocks. The reality of what we’d just done crashed into me as I looked at the garbage dump mere feet from her.

“You are…evil.” I breathed out, drunkenly eying her in my post-orgasmic haze while she stood up with a salacious grin. “You’re the actual devil.”

“You love me.”

I nodded in agreement because she wasn’t wrong. I watched as she fixed my pants before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. Such a loving action after such a filthy moment, that I couldn’t help but laugh at the juxtaposition.

“What?” Her smile was so sweet and lovely.

“I can’t believe you just sucked me off in an alleyway.”

I didn’t even want to think about how many risks we had taken just then. The fact that anyone could’ve walked by and seen us, never mind the amount of trouble that I could’ve gotten in, was something that we would never mention again.

“I can’t believe you let me.” She countered almost immediately. We both knew I was powerless to stop her, nor did I want to. “Don’t lie though, I know you enjoyed yourself.”

Well she wasn’t wrong there.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer x reader

845 notes · View notes

lilred8220 · 4 years ago

Text

Ok ok ok ok ok ok.....so hear me out.....Lilith Head cannon

So like....Lilith has never made an in-game appearance right? So like, I imagine, based on how everyone describes how sweet, lovely and pure she is and how the time you DO talk to her, it's a white screen, that she would look something like this.

Might draw her in the future but idk we'll see

And NOOOOO, it's not my OC, similar but, no. She looks like this.

That aside, I imagine her to be a very pure and innocent being. So pure and innocent that she rivals heaven's light. She would be called on occasion, "Little Sun" Or, "Sun's light" To further show how her soul glowed unbelievably bright and beautiful.

I can see how this would cause her to give the man she loved the forbidden food to save him, not truly understanding the consequences of her actions.

I imagine that she did it because, she truly believe that her love for him was just and pure. That when her father seen where she was coming from, her pure intentions, that he would understand and forgive her.

She was wrong. So wrong in the worst way possible.

Finding out how wrong she was shocked her. She couldn't understand why her father was angry, so angry in fact that he would have her wiped from existence.

She felt betrayed and hurt. When her brothers fought for her, she was glad but, also felt extremely guilty. She never meant for any of this to happen. She never wanted her brothers and father to fight because of her and she never wanted her brothers to fall for her, even though all of them would always tell her that they would regret nothing and they would fight for her till the bitter end.

After the war and she was reborn, she looked like this.

Her appearance somewhat changed but, there are still similarities. Diavolo can only do so much, having her reborn as a human was already a lot.

Though she still looks somewhat the same, Diavolo did his best to hide the fact that she was Lilith reborn. But, hey, it worked. She was never discovered and lived a long and happy life.

She wasn't as innocent in her previous life but, people who knew her said that her sweet nature and pure soul rivals that of an angels. That many looked to her for her wisdom.

She wouldn't remember her past life till death however, she'd have very odd and vivid dreams of people she wouldn't recognize but, always had a feeling that she knew them somehow.

She kept a dream journal, writing down all her odd dreams that she would have but, never deciding to look into it. She believed that they were nothing more than that, dreams. Very odd dreams.

I also thought what she would look like as a demon if she survived the war annnnnnd

She DEFINITELY would have changed after the war. Her bright, innocent, pure heart would've been shattered. She definitely would've blamed herself for a very VERY long time for causing herself and her brothers to fall.

She would take the longest to get used to the devildom and being a demon. I imagine she, given time, would be as powerful, if not stronger than Lucifer, seeing as she was technically the first one to fall when the war ended. She would be the embodiment of all the sins, she would be the one who could tempt any human to give their soul away the easiest.

Despite this, however, she would hate it....at first. The longer she stays in the devildom, the more her good nature would fade away, becoming closed off and more on edge. She would become somewhat of a bratty child or a teenager who is DEFINITELY not going through a phase and you could never understand, Lucifer!

Would be part of the Anti-Lucifer League for a while. Would pull many pranks on him. Would always get in trouble. Everytime.

Deep down, however, she still loves Lucifer and all her brothers to death and would never want anything bad to happen to them. Never again.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk 🤍🤍🤍

#obey me #obey me lilith #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

26 notes · View notes

demonologist-in-denim · 4 years ago

Text

Review of Falling Skies by VivatRex

The first Crowley redemption fanfic I ever came across was Falling Skies by VivatRex. This was shortly after 8x23 aired, and at the time, there wasn’t much fic out there involving Crowley that portrayed him as anything other than a villain. (There still isn’t, to be fair.) And there definitely wasn’t much out there in which Crowley actively sought redemption, much less worked alongside and eventually earned himself a place among the Winchester extended family. So the fact that Falling Skies was a slow burn Mooseley fic was just something I was willing to accept in order to read what I was desperately looking for in a Crowley fic.

I was inspired by this post to go back and reread Falling Skies for the first time since it was completed in 2015. All 328,000+ words of it. It’s certainly the longest fanfic I’ve ever read. And I’ve read fanfics that more closely align to what I’m looking for �� but because this was my first Crowley redemption fanfic, I’ve never forgotten it. There are parts of it - scenes, even single lines - that I vividly recall. There are scenes and dynamics and plot points in this fic that were significant influences on my own writing, and are so deeply entrenched in my understanding of post-cure Crowley that rereading this fic felt like some tantalizingly familiar part of myself echoing back to me after a long absence. This is the longest review I have ever written, but then, it is a very long fic.

To quickly summarize the fic, Falling Skies begins after 8x23, with the angels falling to earth and Sam having collapsed from attempting to abort the demon trials. The overarching plot follows Dean, Sam, humanized Cas and resentfully cured Crowley as they attempt to deal with the fallout of Abaddon’s return and the shuttering of the Gates of Heaven. Along the way, a new villainous angel makes a play to rule both Heaven and Hell, angels and demons battle out their differences on Earth in a massive slaughter, and the Man Tablet is discovered, which reveals that the ultimate apocalypse involves merging all the known planes of existence into a hellish nightmare. Throughout all of this, Crowley struggles with a blood-born conscience that begins to form itself into a soul, a mental and emotional link that now connects him and Sam due to the incomplete cure, and rival selves: the cunning, successful King of Hell and a man haunted by his past, longing to make amends. It’s equal parts Mooseley, Destiel, and a season’s worth of near-world ending scenario.

Scenes from this fic that I’ll never forget:

The opening scene is Crowley in the church at the end of 8x23, beset by guilt and shame as he can feel for the first time in hundreds of years the depth of pain and suffering he’s caused.

His reaction shortly after the aborted cure to remembering he killed Meg. “Crowley’s stomach twisted in a painful knot at the thought of Meg…The unspeakable acts that hadn’t seemed unspeakable at all at the time…He promptly rolled down the Impala’s window. He leaned out, vomiting onto the road.”

The scene in which Crowley admits to Sam that he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself after the cure, “if you’d cured me, I would’ve hung myself the minute I found a long enough rope.”

The scene in which Crowley faces the demon who tortured him on the rack, and sees himself in comparison to that demon, hears his own awful words to Kevin, “What you people fail to under is that you are nothing” and “it makes him sick to what little remained of his soul to think that his mindset had been similar to this…only a few months prior. That he hadn’t been much better than this, once.”

Fergus’ death scene was particularly memorable. Driven by fear of his own impending death and going to Hell, he accidently kills someone he loves, and takes his own life by hanging. It’s not ever the backstory I would have imagined for him, but it was written with real heart behind it.

Having chosen to complete the cure, that Crowley receives complete forgiveness. Whatever substitutes for divine authority in this fic restores his soul fully, forgives him for all his past sins, and frees Crowley from the ruinous effects of damnation. “He’d been forgiven. Crowley sobbed into his hands.” It’s not the story I would have written for Crowley, but at a time when Crowley redemption fic was almost nonexistent, this was powerful.

In a rare moment in which Cas is being a self-righteous asshole, Dean remarks that “you’re really reminding me of someone…a douche bag I met back in ’08 who threatened to throw me back into Hell if I didn’t show him the respect he deserved.” Later, after he’s had time to calm down and begins to feel guilt, Cas asks “The ‘douche bag’ who raised you from Hell. Did you hate him?”

This fic offered a lot of the emotional struggles and scenes, the waypoints, I wanted to see along Crowley’s road of redemption.

His struggle with embracing more human emotions and perspective. His subconscious and then intentional rejection of the monster he used to be.

Being offered a choice between more power and more humanity, and after a long internal struggle, choosing humanity.

Ultimately choosing the Winchesters and (Crowley’s own conception of) the greater good over demonic self-interests. Choosing “one tiny forever [with people he cared about over] a never-ending existence” without them.

Crowley grasping – and openly admitting to valuing – humanity for its own sake. And that while in becoming less demon and more human, in becoming family with the Winchesters, he may lose his powers and influence, his immortality and near-invincibility, that he gained everything else. “Love, friendship, family, redemption…It’s all worth it!”

Crowley in this fic is written as having that change of heart and perspective because of and for Sam’s sake, and I very much write all of that happening for Crowley’s own sake and born of something innate to him, but seeing all of this in a fic assured me that I wasn’t the only one who thought that redemption was possible for Crowley. It meant a lot to me at the time. I guess, considering I was willing to reread this whole fic again all these year later, it still does.

Crowley admitting – to himself and to others – or directly referencing feelings of guilt, remorse and shame for his actions. It wasn’t explained away as just the effects of the cure. Something deep inside him had been changed, restored.

The very first scene resoundingly validated my own understanding of 8x23 – Crowley caught up in the flood of emotions brought on by the cure, seeing his actions for the first time as truly monstrous, hearing the cries of his victims. Holy mother of sin, the things I’ve done.

The admittance to himself that time alone in the bunker’s dungeon, in the dark, was too much time left to self-reflection and memories – the nagging of his conscience when he’d rather suppress it entirely.

The rawness of his emotions, his unfamiliarity with how to process them, “it had been a constant struggle not to start sobbing like a bloody child since Sam had almost cured him.”

His increasing hatred of other demons, not because of their disloyalty or incompetence, but because of what they symbolize: their delight in suffering, the misery they cause, that he was anything like them and might still be – or worse, might regress and become again.

In canon, Crowley asks Sam where to begin looking for forgiveness. He references wanting to make amends again in 10x17 when he tells Sam he thought making changes to Hell “might matter.” But after the cure, Crowley in canon never really expresses one way or another whether he thinks he’s capable of or can earn redemption. We’re left with subtext that suggests Crowley thinks he’s too far gone for that – or has been convinced that that’s the case by the attitude of the Winchesters and Cas. Fanfiction, this fic, offered up what canon couldn’t:

Crowley admitting to hating what he was and wanting to be better. Saying things like “I’ve been past the point of forgiveness for a very long time” and “There’s no forgiveness, not for a thing like me” and hating that.

Feeling beyond ashamed to have so thoroughly damned himself beyond any hope of redemption. “Even now, he would never forgive himself for all he’d done – and truthfully, he didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.” Crowley feeling that way both kills me – because it’s not true, dammit – and fulfills a perverse need to see the character suffer through all the necessary growth to actually become that better self that is worthy of that redemption.

Crowley admits his own efforts are “not enough!...It’ll never be enough” compared with his sins. In canon, Crowley never says as much, but plenty of other characters, particularly the Winchesters, are more than happy to come to that conclusion for him.

Again, I am amazed – looking back at this fic – of how much of Crowley’s road to redemption that this fic established for me. One of the waypoints was Crowley coming to a point where he recognizes and then internalizes that being a demon is bad. That seems obvious, but Crowley had so much to gain from being a demon. Did gain so much, compared to his human life. But in becoming a demon, souls lose something, something of immense and irreplaceable value.

After the aborted cure, Crowley “had all the souls of the damned behind him, and he’d never felt weaker.”

And then there was the matter of watching what other demons did, the harm they caused – seeing the consequences and aftermath of the pain and suffer he had caused, how that effected the people around him, the people Crowley now cared about.

There’s coming to grips with the understanding that possessing a meatsuit is a horrible, violating experience for that person.

And that being this broken, corrupted thing is something Crowley wants to get away from, forget about, suppress. And as he increasingly becomes one of the boys, it’s something he tries – without success – to put behind him. “Would you believe that I’d almost forgotten?...Forgot what I was.”

Crowley’s road to redemption, his “transformation” in this fic, is slow. As appealing as the plot point of the demon cure was in canon, I couldn’t imagine the reforming of a soul of the demonic smoke to be anything other than slow, painful, and complicated. It had to be that way, it had to be something of value, to be a redemption that was actually earned.

Crowley’s humanity shines through a little at a time. In most of fanfiction, we go straight to the heart of the matter. That’s what we’re here for. But it’s so much more impactful when the glimpses of Crowley’s feelings and humanity are rare, and veiled behind snark, dismissal, and misdirection.

Crowley has moments of both begrudged self-reflection and open admission. He surprises himself in moments with the sincerity of his own remarks.

Grapples with longing for humanity and the good aspects that come with that, as much as he hates human weakness.

He often considers himself not human enough, and is hard on himself for that.

He learns to ask for help, and the scene in which he asks for help in completing the cure is something I longed to see play out in canon.

There is a scene where a character can see Crowley’s true form – what an angel sees when looking at humans, demons and other beings – and can see that it’s healing from the corrosive effects of damnation and being on Hell’s rack. This is something that I’ve never explored in my own work, but have often thought about and wondered how to visualize for the reader. Visualize Crowley “regaining pieces of his soul,” as Eliot in Leverage recently put it.

There are moments in the fic in which Crowley’s demonic instincts and humanity align, have the same goal, which is something I love and would have wanted to see explored in canon.

At one particular vulnerable moment, Crowley admits to the cure having saved him – “You saved me” – from the damage done to a soul corrupted into a demon. Saved him from himself, stopping him from doing more evil in the future.

The tragedy of that, of course, is that the Winchesters didn’t save Crowley intentionally, didn’t do it for Crowley’s sake, and because of that, Crowley in canon could only begrudge having been transformed from an “icy, unfeeling, ruthless, perfect” demon into a “messy, emotional” shadow of himself.

Even as Crowley laments “not being human enough” in this fic, he is also conflicted about not being demon enough.

The part of Crowley that still revels in depravity and violent strength, in ultimate power, can’t stand the idea of being weakened by human nature. He can’t believe he’s starting to feel all those rainbow, feel-good emotions that make such fools of the Winchesters and their kind.

Equally, not being demon enough undermines Crowley’s legitimacy as King of Hell. If he isn’t the most ruthless, sadistic, uncaring monster out there, he isn’t fit to rule Hell. And not being the king, who is he? And from where does he obtain his power, his means of security and self-preservation? It is as much an existential crisis as it is a matter of wanting to hold onto ill-gotten power and authority.

Giving into his more human side, “would he even be able to rule Hell,” or would he be reduced back to the nothing that he was before bashing his way through the ranks?

And if he gives up humanity for being King? For power? At least then “I’ll have power. I’ll have respect. I’ll have the best a demon can have. The best I can have…It’s all I can do.”

Even in admitting letting go of humanity secures him power, Crowley admits that he chooses that because it’s all he thinks he’s worthy of, a sad consolation prize. Crowley never admits as much in canon, but I absolutely read all this as the reason for his inability to let go of Hell and move to join the Winchesters sooner.

Crowley’s perspective on being king in this fic and how that perspective changes over the course of the slow burn is perhaps the greatest strength of the fic.

Throughout much of the fic, Crowley legitimately loves being king. He loves the authority, he loves the power. The fic leans heavily on his cunning and strategic mind, something that canon failed to capitalize on after Crowley became a second-tier member of Team Free Will. While reading, I honestly believed that the author was writing a Crowley that loved the crown and would begrudge giving it up.

But slowly, what he loves about being a king cannot outweigh everything he hates about Hell, demonkind, and what being king costs him.

Very much in line with canon, Crowley gets to a point where he is forced to admit to himself that despite all the perks and benefits, he actually hates being the King of Hell.

He believes he has to keep being king to keep Hell in line and less of a threat – just like in canon. And uses that as a justification, along with love of power, to remain trapped in his own personal hell.

A few aspects of being King of Hell that the fic explores that canon doesn’t include:

The brilliant idea that “Hell chooses who leads it.” Demonic loyalty shifts from an unsuitable leader to a powerful alternative, and when that loyalty shifts, the power of Hell shifts from to that particular demon or Knight of Hell. That’s what gives the king (or queen) of Hell their immense power and legitimizes their authority. Love that idea – it almost makes it like a…demonocracy.

Crowley feels responsible towards the overall protection of demonkind. This is somewhat suggested in canon, such as when Crowley refers to Bobby Singer as being a surge to “his kind.” But it doesn’t have quite the paternalistic quality to it, compared to in the fic when Crowley gets angry that Abaddon is using “his subjects” as cannon fodder against angels. “Yes, they were traitorous, weak-minded prats, but they were still his.”

But the most significant aspect of Hell and demons this fic explores – in my opinion – is how Hell turns souls into demons. Falling Skies delves into Crowley’s own torture on the rack, “he kept seeing flashes – brief, vivid visions, memories” of “blood and laughter and screaming ad begging and pain.”

Souls are strapped to the rack and torn apart, “destroyed brick by brick…violated and torn down” and then, made into a demon, “pieced back together into something else…something evil. Something poisonous and wrong.” This unmaking so as to create from the ruins departs from the idea that a soul caves or gives into to evil in Hell, and instead invests in the idea that it is something done to them, that it is a perversion of everything that they are, which in my opinion is a much more compelling take on demons.

Hell doesn’t only take a soul’s humanity, it takes their memories as well. Crowley references how “his torture in Hell had been enough to erase almost every part of his human life. He honestly only knew the barest details of the man that was Fergus.”

What he does remember is primarily the bad memories, as if Hell intentionally allowed him to hold onto those memories to either fuel his damnation or to discourage him from being nostalgic for his human life.

Much of what Crowley actually feels, even as a demon, is suppressed, “drowned in smoke”, numbing him to his actions and clouding his own thoughts and emotions in Hell’s influence. “He’d never realized how much he’d lost, how much he’d blocked out, how much he hadn’t even thought was worth remembering.”

All of this significantly influenced my own ideas about what it meant to be a demon – to be a semi-cured demon – and Crowley’s existential struggle.

Some smaller, more personal characteristics of Crowley that this fic influenced in my own writing include:

Crowley being a cook, and rolling his eyes at the boys fearing he’s going to poison them

Crowley referring to or thinking of the Winchesters as “his humans” rather than him being “their demon”

Crowley stating in fanfiction long before that final scene in 12x23 that he “always wins”

pointing out how even before the cure, he has carried his own weight in the saving-the-world department. “Who helped you stop the apocalypse? Me. Who helped you take out Castiel when he tried to pay god? Me. Who helped you stop Dick and his cronies? Me! ARE YOU NOTICING A TREND HERE?”

In this fic, Crowley takes a younger meatsuit – the son of his canon meatsuit. Which made me very uncomfortable and felt hypocritical, because by this point, Crowley is very much one of the good guys and should have had qualms about that. But then angelic powers make it possible for Crowley to take that meatsuit and the person is snapped back into existence, whole and unaware, and Crowley is visibly relieved by that. Vessels and meatsuits has always been something that the canon never properly addressed or explored. And while Crowley taking just a younger version of his vessel felt like ageism here, at least the author addressed the moral complications of his choice.

Crowley’s central, guiding concept of redemption and what it means to do the right thing was also established for me in this fic.

He has the chance to murder the demon that tortured him, that led him on his path to damnation. The demon attempts to play the mortality card, telling Crowley to “kill again and blacken your heart even more.” And Crowley, in perfect character, replies “in for a penny, in for a pound.”

Crowley truly believes himself to be beyond redemption, but that he can use his damnation as another resource in the larger fight for what is right. If he’s already damned, no reason to hold back – he can do the ugly, messy things the others can’t, what might even need to be done to secure the win for Team Free Will.

He reflects on his changing perspective of morality, how he thought good and evil were just human concepts that got in way, that people mistakenly draw line between good and evil when really it’s a spectrum that people move up and down all the time.

What he comes to believe in, with his semi-restored humanity, is choices. “That night that Sam had injected him with human blood, that night he’d come close to being saved (or doomed?), he had seen the darkness inside of himself, and he had hated it…there was good and evil within everyone, or at least the potential for it. What mattered was what side you chose, or at least which you chose the most often, which you kept trying to fight your way back to…For the time being, Crowley was not evil. And really, he rather liked that.”

That idea of Crowley fighting his way back to a better version of himself, to his morality and humanity being defined by his choices – that is central to me in Crowley’s character and road to redemption.

Much of Crowley’s relationship with the boys post-cure for me was based on this fic as well.

With the cure coursing through him, seeing Dean as an actual person for the first time.

His professional respect for them morphing into admiration, into protectiveness, because “they tried. And that should count for something, damn it.”

His understanding that the boys’ don’t just use people up – they do so by giving them something to believe in, something to fight for, and letting the cause use them up.

Dean making a deal with the angels to kill the King of Hell, and being unable to go through with it, then choosing to stand between Crowley and the angels.

Crowley recognizing his and Cas’ similarities, discussing with him the benefits and difficulties of being human or semi-human.

He and Cas getting a drink together and sharing their woes.

Cas admitting that his old angelic biases being in the way of seeing before how alike they are.

Crowley and Cas joking that in their team-up, Crowley is Dean and Cas is Sam.

Idea explored in this fic that I loved and want to flesh out in a fic:

Closing the Gates of Hell means all the demons, including Crowley, will be trapped down there forever. And a) Crowley considers or b) the Winchesters consider without telling Crowley - turning him human so that he won’t be trapped down there with demonkind.

A third or even second attempt at the cure might not be possible, or not take full effect.

Turning a soul into a demon takes proper time, that “hurrying the torture, letting out the souls before they’re fully cooked…churning out demons with bits of human still left in them. You’d think it would make them less dangerous, but it just makes them a hell of a lot worse. They’re out of their minds and out of control.”

And I very much appreciated that it referenced the reality that in killing a possessed meatsuit, the boys were killing a victim, a possessed person. That is something that sort of fell away and became an acceptable collateral damage, and never sat very well with me.

Falling Skies also introduced a loyal lackey for Crowley by the name of Laharl who I loved as a character. Crowley very much needed that someone in later seasons.

Castiel attempting to heal Crowley, and him suffering an instinctual fear that the angel intends to smite him.

The boys – and Crowley – struggling with the unwelcome knowledge that if Crowley chooses to become king again, there will come a time when their interests don’t align, and they will have to be enemies again. How much Crowley doesn’t want that, can’t bear the thought he might hurt them again.

I know this is a really long review. And I honestly don’t expect anyone to read it all the way through. I wrote it more for myself than anything. Because, even though there is plenty about the way that I write Crowley that differs from the way this author did, there is also so much here that influenced my understanding of him and his road to redemption. When there was no other fanfiction about Crowley fighting his way out of the dark, about choosing the Winchesters and to be better, there was Falling Skies. And I will always be immensely grateful for that.

Read the fic on AO3

#spn #spn fanfic #crowley #fic rec #happy sulphur saturday

8 notes · View notes

homebody-nobody · 5 years ago

Text

you wanna play with fire (stick and poke tattoo)

Jax did you actually write a whole nother fic?? Why yes, dear reader, I did. This is porn, blame @hvitstark and @aarchiess and the rest of the jiara gc for filling up the Sin Bin with inspiration every day. PLEASE interact with this post I work really hard on these fics and seeing them get like ~30 notes and then dying drains my soul. ------------------------ ao3 -------------------------

‘Come home on time or don’t bother coming home at all!’

Her mother’s words echo in her ears as Kiara stomps away from the house in the late-summer heat. Tears well and sting in her eyes and she wipes them away, refusing to let them fall. She doesn’t understand why her parents don’t get it. Her dad grew up in the Cut. Her mom fell in love there, had Kie there, got married there. She belongs there, so much more than on Figure Eight or anywhere else in kooklandia. There’s an honesty to the Cut that evaporates the closer you get to the country clubs and McMansions on the other side of the island. Her heart feels open there, loved and loving. What happened, to make her parents forget all that? Is money really that important, that corrupting and all-consuming, that they would forget what loyalty feels like? What family is?

JJ’s sitting on the porch when she gets to the Chateau, a paperback folded in half in his left hand and a soda dangling from his right. He stands up when he sees her. “Hey,” he says. He’s wearing one of his absurd cutoffs, cargo shorts slung low and no shoes. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear and his hair is a ruffled mess, like he’s had his hands in it, thinking too hard. He looks like some ridiculous parody of a vagabond, every bad boy the after-school specials always warned her about.

Taking a deep breath, she nods to the book in his hand. “I didn’t know you could read,” she says. It’s easier to make fun then show the way her heart opens and bleeds at the sight of him.

He smiles, lopsided and quiet. “Good to see you, too.”

She mounts the stairs to the porch without asking, even though with every step she takes closer to him, she’s less sure of how to act. They haven’t talked since the night John B died, since the last time she was here. They had sex, the night the Phantom went down. It was fast and messy and a little awkward, because she was still Kie and he was still JJ, and fucking your best friend for the first time is never easy, now matter how long you’ve been waiting to do it.

It’s barely been a week, but it feels like longer, and since she got home that next morning, her parents have been tiptoeing around her, waiting for something to break. It was the simplest thing, really, Kie wondering aloud about JJ, about how he was doing and how she might help him pay off his restitution. (Now that Plan A has spiraled down to Plan L and that failed, besides.) It was her mother and her thinly-veiled scoff, the way it tugged at Kie like calloused skin on fresh sheets. It was Kie mentioning dipping into her college fund to help him, and her parents promptly flying off the handle.

And then, the threat of boarding school, of taking her away from everything she knows and everything she loves, shutting her up in the mountains like some hysterical family member in a victorian asylum, sending her to some institution claiming to be a high school but is basically a finishing school prepping spoiled debutantes for husband-hunting at the ivies. She won’t be one of those girls.

JJ greets her with the usual handshake, and when he goes to sit back down, she grabs at his fingers before she loses the courage, because she doesn’t want to think about any of it anymore, not John B or Sarah, not boarding school, not the tenuous future her parents are planning for her and how little she wants it. He stops, frozen, and every one of her senses is trained on the minimal brush of skin, the tension in his back. She wants her hands on him, her nails dragging down his arms, the taste of his sweat and the burn of his gaze. She wants to be lost in him, because touching JJ switches everything else off. He’s like a magnet for her attention, everything blurring until it’s just his mouth and his hands and his --

“Kie,” he says, a warning in his usually jovial voice. His gaze is locked on her hand, her slender fingers tangled in his, gentle things, held between strength and violence. “You said --”

��I know --” she says, pausing for half a second, surprised by her tone and the immediacy of her response. How quickly she wants to forget the lies she told herself about being able to stay away from him, after knowing what his tongue feels like on her clit and the way he fits perfectly inside her, like they were meant to come together. “What I said.” She’s looking at their linked hands as well, but she’s imagining his between her legs, wants to pull him forward and put it there, just to stop feeling so fucking human, because he makes her feel celestial, instead.

“So?” he asks, licking his lips, his breath picking up like he can read her mind, see her the way she wants to be, naked and underneath him.

“So maybe,” she says, her heartbeat rising in her own throat, taking half a step toward him, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes betray him, flicking up to her face and following the motion. She looks up at him, and the second her brown eyes land on his, he’s done resisting, done even considering it. He melts, when she looks at him like that, so grateful for it, after waiting so many years convinced it wouldn’t ever happen. “I changed my mind.”

The air hangs heavy and charged as JJ’s rational side, weak to begin with and driven deep with years of half-thought-out decisions and anticipated-yet-ignored consequences, scrambles to pull him out of her orbit, to get him to let go and stop her from burning up in the periphery of his constant firestorm. But her eyes are on his, and she’s touching him, and she’s asking, and the moon could fall without him noticing, right now.

She pulls, and he follows, and they’re crashing into each other, a kiss that starves before it is even born. Paint flakes and dust fill the air when she slams back against the side of the house, her arms looped around JJ’s neck, one of his tight around her waist, the other braced on the siding, fist clenched, forearm taught. The second he touches her, the world stops spinning, or maybe just they do, because she’s dizzy and soaring under his mouth, chest to chest and sharing breath between teeth and lips and tongues. Victory rises in her chest, pride and anticipation simmering just below the beautiful, vacant hunger that comes from JJ kissing her like this, and it’s that pride that bruises, just a little, when he pulls away.

“You can’t just jump me when you’re upset,” he says, but it’s into her neck, practically a growl as his hand flexes against the small of her back, gathering up her shirt, his fingernails just grazing her skin.

“Can’t I?” she answers, canting her hips up a fraction, pushing against him, demanding his return to ravishing her indecently.

“Fuck, Kie --” he says, and he’s nipping at her neck in bursts, like he knows they should be talking about this, but he can’t help but touch her, overwhelmed with the need to taste her skin and leave her wanting.

“Fine,” she says, sliding her forearm against his shoulder until her hand buries itself in his hair, pulling him back up and kissing him fiercely. “We’ll talk about it,” she sighs, before diving back in for another hard, demanding kiss. And then, “After.”

“Yeah, okay,” JJ relents, pushing off the side of the house and dragging her toward the front door. It’s not a choice but a capitulation, a giving in to the unstoppable force that is Kiara tugging at his soul. Because he’d do anything for her, anything to her that she asks, no matter what he tells himself. He slides his teeth over her bottom lip and pulls away, panting. “After.” They slam through the screen door, stumbling over a broken ankle tether and the trash JJ had been meaning to take out, not even bothering with the farce of trying to make it to the bedroom. Her calves slam into the pullout and she topples backwards, taking her with him.

Kissing JJ is a little like waiting out a hurricane and finally hitting the eye. Thrilling and terrifying, surrounded by power and strength, destruction and damage, but finding peace and respite, and a promise, a hint of the sun. Once he has her underneath him, he slows down, settling his weight between her legs, keeping himself propped on his elbows while he kisses her, solid and hard in his intent. It’s torture, him dancing above her, licking into her mouth only to back off and press kisses across her face, her jaw, and down her neck, sucking damning, claiming marks before scraping his teeth over her ear with the slightest pressure, teasing her, pulling obscene noises from her throat and driving her insane. She pushes her hips up again, and he responds with a deep, heavy roll of his, and she can feel his cock, hot and already half-hard, through the layers of fabric between them.

She wants to feel it, in her hand, her mouth, pressing torturously, deliciously inside her, and he’s still fully clothed and taking way too much damn time. Surging up against him, she flips the two of them over, dangerously close to the edge, and straddles his hips, dragging her hands down his chest. Tossing her hair out of her face and pulling it all to one side, she risks glancing down at him, afraid of the vulnerable drop of her stomach every time she meets his eyes. JJ’s an eclipse in totality, pupils blown wide, shining underneath her, beaming in her shadow. His lips are slightly parted, red and wet, hair disheveled, hands coming down to slide up her thighs, and the image is so hot, so perfect, her chest aches as her cunt throbs for him, a dangerous, terrifying combination. She takes off her shirt.

The sigh he lets out is entirely involuntary, reveling in the warmth and the weight of her, in awe of the smooth plains of exposed skin and the soft curves of her body. She leans down to kiss it out of his mouth, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, the other sliding around the back of her arm as she holds face. It’s too gentle, too kind and slow, so she sinks her teeth into his lower lip until he groans and tightens her fist in his hair, pulling her with him as she straightens. His hands frame her hips as she grinds down on him, and he ducks his head to lay kisses across her collarbones, his hands sliding up her sides, electric on her bare skin. Letting her head fall back, she takes in the feeling of his lips on her chest, his thumbs tucking under the band of her bra. One stays to brush back and forth over the side of her breast while the other reaches around and pinches apart the clasp in an expert move. Her stomach drops at the thought of JJ doing this with other girls.

Taking her hands from his hair to cup his jaw, she redirects his attention back to her lips as her bra slides down her arms and her nipples pebble in the cool air. She holds on just a little too long, presses into him closed-mouth and soft, and he melts under her touch, his hands framing her ribs, her hair falling around them in a peach-scented curtain. When he initiates moments like this, she runs from them, too scared of what she might feel if she falls in like she’s falling now, heart pounding, her thumbs skating over his cheekbones. He leans up into her touch, one of his arms dropping to her waist and pulling her in closer to him, holding her tight. She pulls away from the kiss, keeping her forehead pressed to his.

“Kie,” he sighs. Her breath hitches at the sound of her name from his mouth, like it almost always does, except he’s never close enough to notice. The silence that follows holds too much for the small space it occupies, and while she has no idea what he’s scared of saying, it almost falls from his lips anyway. Before he can make too much of an idiot out of himself, she pulls her arms back out of the straps of her bra, reaching between them to toss it to the side. As she does, she keeps his eyes on his, the smallest pockets of relief opening as his gaze drops to her tits, and then the heat in her stomach picking up again as he licks his lips. He ducks his head again, taking one of her nipples into his mouth like a sacrament, like she’s holy, closing his eyes and moaning, deep and satisfied at the taste of her skin. It goes straight to her cunt, and she feels wetness gathering there, even more than before.

This, they’ve already done. There’s still fading bruises across her chest from the first night they spent together, when he ate her out til she screamed and then fucked her senseless, and while that seems to be the course of action he’s aiming for here, she has other ideas. She slides her hands back into JJ’s hair -- God, she could spend hours playing with JJ’s hair -- and tightens her grip, her blunt nails scraping gently over his scalp. In return, he teases his teeth over her nipple, and when she arches and gasps at the motion, tries to flip himself back on top.

But Kiara has a goal, and she tightens her thighs around his hips, flattening her hands on his chest and pushing back, shaking her head playfully. He raises his eyebrows and flashes her half a smile, as if to say ‘oh, really?’, but settles his hands on her hips and lets her take charge. Her first order of business is getting him just as naked as she is; he holds up his arms obediently as she tugs his shirt off of him, and this is different now, than when it started. They’re taking their time with each other, grateful to drop the guise of desperation and explore every secret spot and inch of forbidden skin. It should scare the shit out of her, and it sort of does, but it’s also… kinda fun. JJ makes this shy vulnerability so easy to sink into, knowing that any teasing has no real heat behind it, that he’ll be gentle and kind and listen to what she wants and what she likes. Yes, the bar is on the floor, but this boy is her best friend for a reason, this loving, crazy dumbass, that would set himself on fire to keep her warm. And that trust, those years of rapport and familiarity, make moments like these so much more comfortable, easier with a net underneath the thrill of flying high, trading touch for pleasure and knowing that he’ll be there to catch her on the comedown.

She leans down and kisses him, soft at first and then deeper, licking into his mouth and rolling her hips down onto him, stretching her arms above his head and dragging her tits up his bare torso, smiling against his lips at the sound he makes. Ducking her head against his neck, she leaves her own trail of marks and then shifts her weight off of him to the side so she can reach down and pop the fly of his shorts open with one hand. He hisses in a sharp inhale when she reaches her hand between the layers of clothing and palms him over his underwear, giving him a second of satisfying contact before backing off, teasing him with her fingertips. He rolls onto his side, angling himself over her, kissing her hungrily.

“Fucking hell, Kie,” he says, tucking his face into the side of her neck. “You got no fucking right to feel that good.” He’s warm and solid against her chest, hot and hard under her fingers, and something opens in her chest as he kisses her again, slow and sensual but not rushing, not pushing for things to go further or asking for anything she’s not willing to give. She pushes his underwear down as best she can, and he shudders as bare skin meets. The feeling of his cock in her hand sets her skin alight as he muffles moans in her neck, and she twists her hand over the head of it, spreading the wetness she finds there over the shaft.

JJ surrenders to her, relaxing against her side as she works her hand over him, leaning into her, muttering half-formed praise into her skin like a prayer. She bites down a smile at the words, trying to hide how much she enjoys having him so vulnerable under her touch, how hot she gets listening to him react, feeling the soft skin over hard muscle. Kissing him firmly, she pushes him onto his back, leaning over him as she strokes his cock, one of his arms coming up to hold her, the other hand pushing into her hair. She hadn’t had time to do this the first night they were together, too focused on her own desperate need to get lost in him, so she takes her time working her way down his bare torso, sinking her teeth into his chest, leaving red and purple marks in her wake.

He stutters on an inhale when he realizes what she’s doing, and when she curls her hands in the waistband of both shorts and boxers, concern fills his dear, blue eyes. “You don’t have to --” he breathes, caught between concern for her and the deep, furious want pulsing in his blood. “Just because I --”

Kiara licks her lips, and JJ watches the movement, powerless not to. “I want to,” she says, realizing the truth of it as she says it, and the resulting look on JJ’s face puts butterflies in her stomach. (Which, like, she really doesn’t have time to think about right now.) So, in answer, she pulls his pants and underwear down and off, tossing them to the side and settling herself between his legs. It’s a little intimidating, JJ spread out naked before her, his cock eagerly awaiting her attention. She knew it was big, of course. After last time, the rumors had been confirmed true; JJ Maybank was excellently skilled with both hands and mouth, in addition to being ridiculously well-hung. It isn’t fair, really. But it’s one thing when he’s fucking her, and another when she’s face to face with it.

He senses her hesitation and reaches down, brushing his fingers over her face in gentle reverence, and the touch shocks something inside her she’s not ready to confront. Instinctively, she pulls away, and, when concern colors his storm-sky eyes, she smiles, and ties up her hair. JJ’s breath catches in his chest as the sight, and it bolsters her confidence. She leans forward to kiss him one more time, twisting her hand over the head of his cock, solid and determined, and before he can recover, she ducks her head and takes him into her mouth.

He grasps at the sheets as she swirls her tongue curiously around the tip, letting spit and precum drip down the shaft, spreading it towards the base with her hand. “Fuck, yes,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed, his head dropping to the pillow. It’s satisfying, and triumphant, and hot, to see him so at her mercy, helpless and prone in the oldest kind of worship. After a while of torturous teasing, she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth, pressing her thumb into her palm to push down her gag reflex -- a trick Sarah told her about that she’s never needed til him. He keens, and the noise has her pushing her hips against the mattress, rocking into the seam of her shorts. Bobbing her head, experimenting with pace and angle, she flicks her tongue smartly against the underside of the tip of his cock, and the moan that follows that move is very interesting indeed. She tries it a few more times until he’s gasping out a warning, and she draws back until her lips just wrap around the head, swallowing neatly as he chokes out her name.

She comes up smiling, and he half sits up, reaching for her, sated and grasping. He kisses her soundly, pulling her back down next to him, one hand in her hair, one arm around her waist, his favorite way to hold her, it seems. Settling her on her back, his tongue meets hers and he groans at the taste of himself. “You,” he says, pulling back to press kisses down her neck. She can’t keep in the happy, smug giggle that works its way out of her chest. “Are so fucking hot.”

“Not too bad yourself,” she laughs as he tucks his face between her tits, the last word followed by a sharp gasp as he wraps his lips around a nipple, like he can’t help but have his mouth on her, can’t help but taste her skin and send her heart racing.

“I knew you were looking,” he says, propping his chin on her sternum and looking up at her with a shit-eating grin, mischief and post-orgasm glow sparkling in his stupid, stupid blue eyes. He’s been paying attention to her, thinking about this. The thought flips something over in her chest, and she shoves his head playfully.

“Shut up,” she says, trying to keep her voice light. She picks her hips up, trying to keep him focused on the event at hand. Yeah, JJ’s easily distracted, but she’s half-naked in front of him, She kinda hoped that would avoid unnecessary conversation. “And get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, half-kidding -- but his eyes darken just a shade too far to be all tease. (Which, she thinks to herself, is certainly something to be investigated.) He devotes his full attention back to her chest, licking and sucking and biting at her nipples, loving the soft, small noises she makes under his touch. Her tits aren’t usually so sensitive, but JJ knows what the fuck he’s doing, and it’s unfair how much he’s able to work her up with her pants still on. Blowing him was already incredibly hot, and, when his hand finally slides into her underwear, he curses at the wetness he finds between her legs. “Holy hell, Kie,” he sighs.

“Maybe a little more hell,” she says, gripping his arm as his finger drags slowly up her slit, “and a little less holy?” She bites her lip as he teases her, dipping in and out of her folds, tracing his fingers over the lips of her cunt, because he wants her to keep making those godforsaken sounds. Because he can.

“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a smart mouth?” he asks, raising his head to suck a mark directly under her ear, smiling against her skin at the resulting gasp.

“Maybe, ah --” she cries, when his careful fingers find her clit and his calloused fingertips explore the sensitive area, “once or twice.”

This is… way more talking than last time. Last time was desperate and grief-stricken and needy, a request for heedless escape in the wake of the unthinkable. Now -- it’s still a distraction, but there were other courses of action available when she showed up at the Chateau as the sun started to sit low in the afternoon sky. She didn’t have to jump him. He didn’t have to let her. JJ kisses her, deep and filthy, putting himself back in charge, angling his body over hers as she presses back into the thin mattress, arcing into his touch, one hand braced on his (very nice) bicep, the other tangled in his messy, golden hair.

He focuses on her clit, spreading the wetness up from her entrance and toying with different pressure and motions, paying attention to what she likes, and she directs him with the sounds she makes, every small moan a ‘yes, please, more of that.’ He’s the most responsive partner she’s ever had, focused on her and her only, his main purpose to make her feel good, not work her up just to fuck or speed past foreplay to move to something more. It makes it better, and when he finally slides a finger into her, he gasps, too, because it’s a privilege for him to feel her, hot and wet and waiting.

“Oh, god,” she whines, as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of her, his thumb on her clit.

“God’s a little formal,” he says, lifting his head to look at her, his expression teasing even as kindness and something else big and unwanted settles in his eyes. “You can stick with JJ.” She tries to smack his arm for that, but ends up sinking her nails into his skin as he slides another finger inside of her a little too easily. He goes slowly, curling his fingers up into her g-spot with every stroke, kissing her lazily and alternating to her neck when she can’t help but gasp at his touch.

It’s torture, the way he takes his time, and after a while she’s begging. “Fuck me, JJ,” she pleads. “God, fuck me, please,” and his spent cock twitches against her leg because fuck if that isn’t something he’s been waiting to hear. His hand speeds up as he decides his next move. When he takes his hands out of her pants she lets out a sound she’d rather he didn’t remember, but based on the way that he smiles against her skin, he won’t be doing that any time soon. He doesn’t even have time to pause at her waistband as he kisses down her body, because she’s very enthusiastically supporting what’s about to happen next, shoving both shorts and underwear down.

He chuckles and tugs them off, tossing them somewhere that’s future Kie’s problem, and heat rises in him again as she spreads her legs for him. Settling on his stomach, he hooks his arms under her thighs, miles of bare skin pressing together with a quiet whisper of faith. She runs her fingers through his hair as he kisses up her legs, taking his time, reveling in the sight and the smell of her. Foolish smiles meet in shy glances and chuckles that are half breath and half disbelief. JJ radiates warmth from his bare skin, broad and powerful below her, and she hooks a leg over his shoulder, sliding her foot up his back and biting her lip as he raises his eyebrows in response, drawing closer to her hot, aching center.

He starts lightly, dragging the tip of his tongue up her slit, just to taste the wetness there, to make her squirm and curse and ask for more. It’s hard to resist the way she begs for him, and he sets in with a purpose, flicking his tongue over her clit and fitting two fingers inside of her, mouth and hands working with a skilled harmony. She clutches at his hair, not afraid to drag her fingernails over his scalp, vocal and unapologetic in how much she’s enjoying this, how much she wants him. When he finds a combination of hooking his fingers against her g-spot and brushing the tip of his tongue over her clit, her legs clamp around his head as she begins to climb, a deep pull starting low in her stomach.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads, “fucking hell, JJ -- God, just like that, don’t fucking stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” He doesn’t, and the sound that comes out of her as she crashes over the edge is loud and guttural and possibly the hottest thing that’s ever fucking happened to him. She cums against his mouth furiously, her stomach flexing and her legs shaking, and he’s a little proud of himself, honestly, as he brings her down gently, sliding his fingers out of her, soothing her with long strokes of his tongue. When her breathing finally slows, he presses kisses over her thighs and then her stomach as he rises back up to meet her.

She kisses him, awestruck and grateful, not minding her own taste as she pulls him down against her, wanting as much bare skin to be touching as possible. She tucks his hair behind his ears and strokes her thumb over his jaw before he falls on his side next to her, staring, tracing his hand up her side in veneration and wonder. It’s hard, the weight of his gaze, so she closes her eyes, drops her forehead against his. “Literally how,” she sighs, and laughs, one arm tucked under his neck and hooked around his shoulders, the other draped over his trim waist.

“It’s not hard,” he promises (falsely), cheshire grin in full force. “Just paying attention.” He kisses her before she has a chance to respond, mostly gentle but with a sense he’s holding back a little, inviting her to take the next step forward. She deliberates for a moment as she sucks on his lower lip, scraping her teeth gently, cataloguing every noise he makes and what move precedes it, learning him. She could go home, now. She’s been sufficiently distracted. She feels a little better, like maybe she can talk to her parents without screaming her head off or bursting into tears. But the pull of the boy next to her is strong and tempting, miles of tan skin with rippling muscle shifting underneath.

The secret is, she always wants to touch JJ. Something about him is magnetic, like a gravitational field she can’t resist. Whenever they’re in the van or on the Pogue or even just chilling on the couch, she finds herself shifting closer. She’s always stepping just behind his shoulder, would prop her chin there -- if she didn’t know that he would freeze up and question the physical contact. Sometimes, she feels jealousy ache in her stomach at his casual physicality with Pope and John B, always slinging his arm around their shoulders or play-fighting or latching onto them, just to be annoying. He’s still physical with her -- she doesn’t think he knows how not to be -- but it’s different, restrained, and sometimes she sees him half-move, reaching out instinctually, only to second guess himself and let his hands fall.

She shifts into him, pressing herself as close as she can, appreciating the gasp he lets out at the press of her bare chest against his, her leg sliding against his dick, already half-hard again. They kiss for a while, and it would be lazy and slow, if they could let themselves relax; but JJ’s still biting something down, and Kie starts to get frustrated trying to draw it out. Finally, tired of waiting, she licks into his mouth with a sudden push, and he’s not surprised, but annoyingly expectant, glad his baiting has finally worked. There’s a moment of tension and pushing as they silently argue who’s going to be on top, and Kie wins when she reaches down and wraps her hand around his cock.

He falls back, and she climbs on top of him, biting down a wide grin of her own. She sits back on her heels, sticking out her chest a little, stroking him slowly, reveling in the way he fights to control his expression. He starts at her tits, palming them with work-roughened hands, before sliding his palms down her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, brushing over her ass, running down her thighs and back up. She lets her head fall back, drinking in his touch, closing her eyes so she doesn’t have to meet his. She can feel him staring, though, unrelenting and hungry, merciless in the way he worships her. She can’t look at him, can’t take the kind of want and lust seething in his eyes, so settles herself over his cock, sliding her cunt up and down his shaft, her hands braced on his chest, his hands gripping her hips, fingertips sinking into her skin.

Part of her wants him to leave bruises, even though she knows he’s not holding her roughly enough for that. He’s being so kind, so soft and respectful, everything she never thought he would be in a situation like this. She loves the tease, the slow build, but she wants him now, viscerally so, rocking her hips over him, hearing him shudder and moan, feeling him clutch at her. She wants him to beg for her, keen her name like she did his. Leaning down to kiss him, she pushes herself all the way up his cock, the tip just brushing her entrance, and he moans, long and filthy. “God,” he gasps, barely coherent. “Fuck, Kiara, please.”

She smiles at that, sitting up, standing on her knees and taking him in her hand. They’d talked about being clean, about her IUD, the first night, and while she’s grateful she doesn’t have to have the same conversation again, it sets an unnerving precedent. The first time was supposed to be the last time. And now there’s today, and she’s not certain she wants to give him up, yet. She doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t know what he’s feeling or what anything between them would look like in a world so tempest-tossed and half-destroyed. But this -- this part will always be easy.

Taking him inside her feels like a prayer. She goes slowly, sinking down, giving herself time to adjust to his size, his hands flexing on her hips. He fills her perfectly, and she’s never believed the bullshit about soulmates or needing someone else to be complete, but with JJ’s cock inside her, his hips, narrow and strong between her legs, she feels a hell of a lot closer to whole. She starts to move, slow and deep, squeezing him on the way up, bottoming out on the way down. He curses and clenches his teeth, wound so tight she can see it, and she wants him to snap, to flip them in a single move and fuck her into the mattress.

He watches her, lets her set the rhythm, thrusting up as she pushes down, but the movement is still tight and controlled. She knows this boy inside and out, knows that he’s holding back for her, afraid of hurting her, of losing her trust or making her feel objectified or powerless. She knows he wants to be careful, to not fuck this up -- because this is a this, now, neither of them have any say in that anymore -- but she also wants his raw power, his strength and abandon, and maybe that’s what drives the next words to fall from her mouth. “Come on, JJ,” she groans impatiently, raking her fingernails down his chest. “Aren’t you gonna take what’s yours?” He’s confused for exactly half a second before she shifts her weight pointedly to the empty space to their left, and before she even registers that he’s moving, she’s on her back, her hands pinned above her head, JJ’s hips slamming obscenely into her own. It’s intense and desperate and fast, and she tugs one of her hands free, bringing it down to her clit to rub hard circles there in pace with his wild hips, knowing he won’t last long like this and chasing that cherished high, just behind him.

He comes before she does on a sharp, animalistic cry, tensing above her and filling her with warmth. She doesn’t have time to be disappointed, because he swears, pulls out, and replaces his cock immediately with his fingers. His cum makes it easy to fit three fingers inside her at once, dextrous and skilled, focused on making her orgasm just as good as his. It doesn’t take long until she’s grabbing at his shoulder, panting and moaning and almost crying, he feels so good, and when he bats aside the hand on her clit in favor of ducking between her legs and replacing it with his mouth, she screams, riding his face and his hand as wave upon wave crashes over her, feet pushing her hips off the pullout, legs quivering and stomach tense. He stays with her, merciless, flicking his tongue across her clit over and over again, until she has to shove his head away with trembling hands, collapsing into the bed in holy, sated exhaustion.

It takes her a second to open her eyes, and when she does, he’s back up next to her, pushing the three fingers into his mouth to suck them clean. “You’re disgusting,” she says, but she’s still panting, out of breath while her chest heaves, and it carries little heat.

He brushes gentle fingers over her temple, tucking away a stray curl. “But we taste so good together,” he teases, his breath fanning across her face as he leans down to kiss her. Their mouths move in lazy harmony, finally at ease, and, of course, he’s right. “C’mon,” he says, tucking his face against her neck, his floppy blond hair falling into her eyes. “Shower?”

“Mmmm,” she hums, thinking she might be anchored to the bed at the base of her spine. “Maybe in a sec.” Honestly, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to stand, but she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing that. He chuckles, knowing exactly what he’s done, and shoves himself up as she curses his never-ending, boundless energy. He brings her water and some paper towels to clean herself up, and, when he sees her sitting up, searching for her underwear, digs in the duffel on the armchair and tosses her a pair of boxers.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What?” he protests, tugging underwear and a pair of basketball shorts up over his ass. (Which she’s a little disappointed to see disappear beneath layers of fabric once more). “They’re clean.” She puts them on without standing up before rolling over to her stomach and stretching her arms out, tucking them underneath her head. Sweat cools on heated skin as golden hour stretches across the Chateau’s living room, and she wants to live in this moment forever.

JJ lowers himself onto her back, scattering kisses across her shoulders, and she giggles and turns underneath him until they’re pressed chest-to-chest, his weight braced on his elbows on either side of her head. She looks at him, now, her hair a mess and eyes shining, skin still heated from his touch. He leans down to kiss her, and she lets him, even though this is dangerous territory, blurring hazy lines between friends and friends-with-benefits and lovers and ‘together’ and all the other things they could call themselves. The kiss is slow and sweet, and when he pulls back it’s to kiss her cheeks, her closed eyes, her nose. It’s silly and soft and so incorrect to the image of JJ she’s always had in her mind, that she laughs under his attention.

“What?” he asks, laughing with her, dive-bombing her with kisses to her face and neck, her arms coming up around his neck, her fingers in his hair.

“You’re so dumb,” she says, still laughing as she shoves him off. He doesn’t go far, just crashes down next to her, their legs still tangled, one arm tucked back under his head, the other resting on the curve of her waist. Her hands trace his arms, shoulders, chest, mapping them like territory she intends to settle.

“Yeah, but --” he says, and then stops, because the rest of that sentence carries a different weight now. The ‘you still love me’ hangs in the air anyway, and it means something else than it did the last time he tossed it out -- after leaving her stranded on the marsh with Sarah Cameron, a day that feels like years ago.

She curls her hands into fists on his chest before spreading them out again, breaking eye contact and biting her bottom lip. “Yeah,” she sighs. Because she does, even if she can’t define how anymore.

“So you gonna tell me why you came here?” he asks, when the moment stretches on into too many seconds and the weight of it threatens to crush them both.

Kie sighs, heavy and tired, as the memory of earlier that day comes crashing back down, chasing out the golden afternoon and pulling her back to all of the guilt and anger and frustration she’d asked JJ to distract her from. “Do I have to?” she asks, still avoiding his eyes, too tired to dodge it any more carefully than that.

“C’mon, Kie,” he urges, “you said you’d talk about it.” She hates him for a second, because isn’t this JJ’s whole thing? ‘Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies,’ right? ‘Deny, deny, deny’? There are a million things he’s said, just over this summer, that she could pull out on him right now. But also, she’s not him, and she likes to talk things out, has to, or else whatever it is that’s bothering her consumes every waking thought. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he’s just being a really good friend at a really bad time.

So she tells him, because she’s avoiding Pope and John B’s fucking dead or lost at sea or whatever the fuck he is, and so is Sarah. And even though Kiara would never have considered going to her before -- everything -- maybe she would now, if she had the chance. “My parents want to send me to boarding school,” she says, dropping it whole on his chest and hoping he can breathe under it.

“Oh,” he sighs, like this admission has shoved the word out of him. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything else, so she keeps going. “So I freaked out, and I left.” She keeps flexing her hands on his chest, keeping her eyes there even as they threaten to fill with tears. “And my mom --” she chokes, and he pulls her close, putting his lips on her forehead. “My mom said that if I didn’t --” she swallows, trying to keep it together, “that if I didn’t come home on time, not to --” she takes a controlled breath, willing the tears away. “Not to bother coming home at all.” It sounds silly, saying it to him, when she knows, now, what he’s been through. What his dad does to him and why he’s here, instead of his own house. It sounds petty and inconsequential and she’s never felt more like an ignorant kook in her life, so she sniffs, and takes her hands off him.

JJ chews on the information she’s given him, tracing his fingers down her arm, over the curve of her elbow and back up to her shoulder. “You’re still gonna go home, right?” He asks, uncertainty and maybe longing in his voice. She realizes, then, that of course she is. Her parents love her, even if they don’t know how to show it, don't understand what the Cut and its inhabitants (and one in particular) mean to her. Of course, she’s going to go home. Because JJ doesn’t get to. Because she still can.

If she’d had this conversation with anyone else, there would be stomping and cursing and yelling, indignant demands as to why her parents can’t understand her, why they can’t see how they suffocate her, and hold her down. But this is JJ, who doesn’t get to have problems like this, who doesn’t get to have parents that love him or watch him too closely. At least if Luke Maybank threatened to send JJ to boarding school, it would mean that he cared about JJ’s future. It would mean that he’d looked at his son, spoken to him, seen the anger and hurt and desperation to be seen. It would mean, at least, that he was paying attention.

“Yeah,” she says. She’s still scared, of being powerless to control what they want her to do with her life, of being seventeen and helpless. But she’s not going to say that out loud, not when JJ knows what that feels like on a level she can’t even comprehend. He feels like he should say more, and part of her wants him to, but JJ’s always been shit at comforting. This, his presence, is enough. His light touches, his lips pressed to her hairline -- it’s all he has to do. When she starts to nod off, she asks him to hand her her phone, and stumbles out to the porch to dig in her bag for it. She curls on her side, sends a text to her mom about being sorry and that she’ll be home in a few hours, and then sets an alarm for thirty minutes before curfew.

She’ll go home, but she’s going to spend as much time with him as she can. She still doesn’t think he should be alone, and she doesn’t want to be either. He fits himself in behind her, his chest pressed to her back, one arm under her neck, the other tight around her waist. They don’t talk. She doesn’t want to and he doesn’t know what he’d say. She’s exhausted and warm and JJ’s arms around her feel a little bit like armor, like when he’s holding her, the rest of the world can’t get in. Just before she falls asleep, he squeezes her tight, tucking his face into her neck.

“You aren’t going to boarding school,” he whispers. “I promise.” She feels his lips press against her skin. She wants to turn in his arms, kiss him slow and sweet and kind, the way he deserves to be loved. But sleep tugs at her, unrelenting. Just before she slips under the waves, she hears him whisper one more thing.

“I won’t let them take you away from me.”

#jiara #outer banks #jj/kiara #kiara/jj #jj x kiara #kiara x jj #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara fic #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #smut #jiara smut #my stuff #my writing

79 notes · View notes

vasoula · 5 years ago

Text

The Peepshow

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

Author’s notes: Please read, thank you!

Hello sasusaku fandom, it’s me ya girl, back after so many years to join the fandom once more. I have been missing this couple dearly and after going through a lot of fanarts, I stumbled upon my favorite girl and biggest inspiration strawberrycreampiefluff. She had made a mini doujinshi years ago, and I wanted to create a story about it so badly. So, I contracted her, got her blessings and created this mini monster fic you will read below (which she will hopefully recreate into a full fanart comic when she finds time - love you girl! - please support my friend’s art, it’s amazing!). This is a collab between us sort of. The first chapter is like a prologue - introduction to get the gist of things. This takes place after the last, but before sasusaku travels, kind of an alternate way of how sasusaku got together. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible and this my first official full chaptered fic, so please be kind and leave comments and likes to show your opinion and support.

You can also read it on fanfiction and Ao3.

Next chapter

“Act one: Different mission objectives”

Haruno Sakura walks briskly towards the Hokage tower, her high-heeled shinobi sandals clanking against the pavement as she makes her presence known to the people who pass by. A few heads turn around, mostly males, to stare at her. She is known as one of the most beautiful women – if not the most – in Konoha. As the Fifth’s apprentice, she is working at the hospital as the top chief and she is well respected by shinobi villages all around the world for her talent in medical jutsu.

Sakura is currently dressed her hospital clothes, because her shift at the hospital just ended. She is wearing a button up white shirt that’s left slightly unbuttoned when it reaches her chest, a short black skirt and her white medical robe on top. She is heading to meet Tsunade who just asked for her to be present at her office immediately. The pink haired girl already knows what that means and what it entails.

It is a new mission.

That has to be it. It has been months since the last one, and her working hard as a medical ninja limited her chances of being sent into one. She is more than ready for it. However, she has a feeling this is only the start of bad news. Knowing her teacher, it has to be a special kind of mission. Being called so suddenly like that also gives her the heads up to guess the genre of it.

It must be a flower mission.

Yes, flower, Sakura thinks and nods to herself after waving at some people who greet her.

Flower mission is a term for female ninjas only. It is a code for a seduction mission.

Going and especially accepting a seduction mission is a big step for shinobi women. It is a very sensitive topic and it needs to be handled delicately and in secrecy. It is a powerful weapon which when used correctly, the mission will be done easily or quickly depending on the execution.

The three-man team pattern has most young girls create bonds or worse falling in love and it makes them attached in one way or another to their male teammates. That is why most ninja women have a difficulty seducing another man. The life of a ninja is usually short; you never know what could happen and the kunoichis value the idea of love. Still though, a woman’s power is strong and every kunoichi succeeds efficiently in their own little style.

The moment Sakura comes into the office, Tsunade’s head snaps up. The two women hold eye-contact for a few seconds before the younger medic closes the door behind her with a soft thud.

No one else is in the room, so Sakura guesses that whatever the fifth Hokage is about to tell her must be something of importance. She makes her way into the room and with elegant movements sits down on the chair that is positioned right in front of the desk. There are no formalities between apprentice and teacher when no one is around to watch, and since Tsunade made no sign to stop her, she also speaks first.

“Tsunade-sama, you called me.” It is not a question, but it is not a mere observation either.

The older woman sighs and puts her folded hands beneath her chin. Her eyes close for a moment and then she lifts her head upwards, giving Sakura a fond and soft look like a proud mother would give to her grown up child. A blonde strand escapes from her well-made and low ponytail and her red manicured fingers come forth to tag it back to place. An elegant move, and there is no wonder where Sakura took her beautiful ways from.

“Yes, I did,” Tsunade pauses for a second and then hastily continues, going straight to the point. There is no time for pleasantries. “I have a new mission for you.”

There is no surprise on Sakura’s face and Tsunade cannot tell if she already knew what her intentions are or she has simply masked her face with a facade of indifference. A true kunoichi right there, but then again…it could be the influence of a certain brooding male.

Before Sakura could ask more, Tsunade beat her into it and answers to her unspoken question. “It is a seduction mission.”

This time the girl reacts instantly and she blinks profusely, pink eyelashes fanning rosy cheeks repeatedly. “A-ah,” Sakura lets out a squeaky response, knowing the consequences of such mission.

So I was right! It is a flower mission, she thinks and curses mentally. Here come the arising problems and she has not even started yet.

“I know, but believe me, I have no choice,” Tsunade put her palms atop of the desk and she pushes her chair back slightly, “This mission is specifically made for you.”

The woman knows what she is doing to her student right now, but seriously the girl is one of the best out there. Her exotic looks and endless beauty draws men like magnets to her. Besides, with her alluring ways and witty personality, she can bend even iron willed males, for example, Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura has already made a list of problems at the back of her mind and her inner self screams in horror.

This is her first official seduction mission. How the hell is she supposed to break the news to rest of Team 7? She cannot straight go up to them and tell them. Naruto will surely react instantly and whine about it until the next decade. She has a feeling Kakashi, being trained under Tsunade, might already know something about this mission and that leaves her with one last important person to tell.

The man her heart yearns for.

After coming back from his redemption journey, Sasuke was a changed man. He was everything she had hoped for. Some parts of his character still remained the same that go back to his genin days, but she saw a new side of him that has been hidden for years, buried deep within all the hatred he harbored for most of his life. The last Uchiha has always been a cool character with a calculating thought process. The difference now was that he was free from the hatred and sins that plagued most of his life.

That is where the healing took place – right at this heart.

While he was away he helped many people during his journey across all the lands. That in return helped him find himself. He learned to love himself again and he stopped being angry at the world. He saw life from a different perspective and by the time he returned the storm inside his mind was calm once more.

Sakura’s heart flourished when he came back two months ago.

The two have been spending time together more than ever. They hang out after Sakura’s shifts at the hospital during the day either alone or with the rest of Team 7, sometimes including Sai. Other days, when their schedules are not so busy, Naruto comes and collects each one of them so they can have dinner at Ichiraku just the three of them. On special occasions, when the Hokage in training feels extra giddy, he will bring Hinata along and they will have something akin to double dates as he likes to call them.

It is an unspoken secret that the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura is a complicated one. They are at the stage where sometimes they act like they are together or other times they are on the verge of being in a relationship. Sakura knows what she is feeling that is for sure. The pure, unwavering love she feels for him is rooted deep within her and grows everyday as she watches him be happier and calmer before her eyes. They have had their moments of intimacy together before. Instances where they became close - she remembers those intense feelings they shared through eye contact and hushed whispers when they were left alone.

The first one was after the war when Sasuke was in prison. The first time he expressed his feelings towards what had happened between them all those years. All the wrong and the ugly parts of himself he wanted to distinguish himself from.

In those quiet moments in the dark where he could not see, his eyes sealed like the criminal he was, he told her the truth. He trusted her now to reveal the ugly truth of Konoha and its elders. He divulged all the hardships his brother, Itachi Uchiha, had to endure to bring peace to the world. In a whisper, he confessed all about his clan like a dirty secret -like he was the sinner and she was the priest. And like the true healer she was, Sakura helped him see the good in him that she knew was still there and gave him disclosure. He accepted her kind words once more with a simple nod and a quiet thank you. But for Sakura, at the current time, it was more than enough. She saw the change in him. It was a small start but she would accept it. The young woman had endured harder things in the past after all.

Later that night, when she cried angry tears at the unfairness of the world, because now she knew finally about the Uchiha massacre, she knew all of them had to endure something hard in their lives and learn to live with it. But god if it did not hurt her that he was the one left suffering the most. And she just wished, she hoped, her love was enough to heal that part of himself that was trying to recover.

The second one was when he left for his redemption journey. While they had spend a few moments together before he left, nothing compares to that single experience. She knew she had to wait for him again, but this time it was not a tear jerking moment with her heart lurching in her throat. No, this time, it was her mind buzzing with all the implications his fingers left on her forehead and the fond look he was giving her.

The third one was when the Konoha 12 had their first night all together again. Of course Naruto had a hand in organizing once again. That little rascal, Sakura had thought then fondly. This guy was always trying his best to bring people together and he was doing a damn good job at it. The fact that he was able to persuade Sasuke into an outing like that was a feat itself.

Everything was going smoothly until the drinks started pouring in. Shots after shots of sake had Sakura feeling pleasantly tipsy that night, but she was not the only with that effect of alcohol on her. Somehow everyone had more than a little in their system and that did not exclude the moody male of Team 7. He was acting normal alright, Sakura would have told you, she was sure of it. But then, Ino Yamanaka, her notorious best friend was dragging her along the dance floor and she could not help but feel a hot stare at the back of her head. Goosebumps arising on her skin had her on edge. She knew then he was blatantly staring at her and he was not trying to hide it in the slightest. It was like then everyone knew what going on and her axis had sifted on its head. She could not fathom this would be the place where Sasuke would lose all his inhibitions, much less with everyone watching in anticipation his next moves. Naruto on the other hand, unbeknownst to her, was throwing just the right comments here and there, making Sasuke see Sakura from a different perspective. About time, if you had asked Naruto; he watched Sasuke analyze Sakura dancing as if she was a riddle ready to be solved.

Sasuke, at the hot age of twenty, was now a young man and finding a woman attractive was the natural course of life. However, for him these new profound feelings confused him. He did not know what he was feeling and all he wanted to do now was stare at Sakura until his eyes tired themselves out. He was ready to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory.

That feeling in his chest was starting to bother him though and suddenly he felt all the stares on him from the intense chakra he was producing. Looking around he felt second hand embarrassment for himself, his ears getting red. Getting a shot of sake from the nearby table, Sasuke gulped down its contents and got ready to leave his position at the bar. He could not handle to keep his emotions in check any longer and this was bad. He was not ready to admit to himself what he was feeling and trying to suppress it any longer could do more harm than good. Better he left the situation right now before he put him and Sakura in a compromising position he was not ready to handle yet.

Right at that moment, Sakura decided to turn around, her dress sticking to her like a vice from all the sweat her intense dancing had caused. One look at Sasuke had time freezing. They held an intense eye contact for a few seconds, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She saw the change in him, she has seen that look before when other men had stared her way in the past. It was then she knew, tonight had been something more to him even though nothing has transpired between them yet. Maybe Sasuke was not ready to acknowledge these feelings yet, but Sakura had hope that this was the start of something new between them.

Feeling bold she started to approach him, confident in herself and brave enough thanks to the alcohol she had consumed. The moment she moved, she saw him flatter in his steps. He was about to leave and escape. The fearless Sasuke Uchiha was scared of what was transpiring between them, but she was not about to let him have his chance to escape this time. Sakura saw his jaw clenching and his hand flattering at his side from its place at the bar stool. He stared at her unblinkingly, waiting for her next move like they were about to have a fight at the training grounds.

Sakura then approached the bar like she owned the place and opened her mouth to say the most simple words known to existence.

“Hey, Sasuke”, she greeted in a whoosh, a breathless exclamation. She leaned against the bar stool and waited for the inevitable dismissal of denial.

Sakura found herself surprised however when he went rigid and leaned forward his towering body over her like he was about to whisper a dirty secret in her ear.

“You are different from the last time I remember you,” He confessed hotly, his mouth near her neck. If it was not for the obvious fact that she knew him well, any other person would have thought he was drunkenly leaning on her, but Sakura is not anybody and she understands this the way of him hiding his emotions from showing on his face in the shadows her neck provides.

What a weird way of seeking comfort from his own shyness, Sakura thought.

She idly recalled then that they were not in fact alone and Naruto was right behind them. When he started making obscene signs with his hands Sakura felt herself flush from head to toe, but the murderous glint in her eyes was apparently enough to stop Naruto’s crudeness.

“Eh, Sasuke-kun, what do you mean?”, she asked hesitantly, her hand raising and resting on Sasuke’s back in a sense of comfort. The soft material of his black shirt damp against her palm.

They were almost approaching the stage of hugging right in front of everybody.

Before they could complete the hug though, Sasuke’s head turned to the left, his cheek almost brushing against Sakura’s. The pink haired girl shyly turned her head slightly towards his direction, their faces almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the effect he still had on her and damn him if he he did not thrive on it.

He could think of all the nice things he could say to her, now it was the perfect time to take a step closer to approaching the inevitable connection they have. But his mind had other plans when the words slipped out of his mouth. In a teasing manner he was only capable of, he smirked and said, “More annoying than ever.”

He was sure she must have caught on his teasing by now. Using bitter words of the past to heal their wounds by putting another meaning to it. She was a smart woman and she could understand his actions better than anyone.

Sasuke knew she had caught on when he felt her fist punch lightly his stomach as if to punish him for insulting her.

“That is not a very nice way of complimenting someone, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered angrily, facing him completely. Any traces of wonder were gone from her emerald eyes replaced with mirth and she continued, smiling menacingly at him, “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Hm,” Sasuke hummed in response and stood straight once again, looking down at her.

By now they had become a spectacle to their friends, the black haired male could feel Naruto almost bristling with excitement from behind him and he was not about to disappoint his friend who has been pestering him to get on with his feelings already.

“I guess we should spend more time together so I can get better at it.”

The double meaning behind his words was evident.

Sasuke Uchiha then patted Sakura Haruno’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world to do and smiled down at her gently.

His female teammate took a big breath through her nose, rosy cheeks glowing, and crossed her arms across her chest. She had him where she wanted him.

“Damn right we should!”

That was one week ago from her current position at the Hokage office. Just when she was making a great progress with seducing Sasuke, she has to go and approach another man for a mission. Talk about making matters weird between them. The worst part is the fact that she has to tell him. She wonders what his reaction is going to be considering they are not together yet. Is he going to act jealous or indifferent?

Who is she kidding? He is just going to glare her with this stupid scary look he gives in assassination missions to terrify people off the moment the words come out of her mouth and that is it.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Tsunade literally saw the thoughts displayed across Sakura’s face. It is like her life passed before her eyes, and her skin got a tad paler.

“Of course there is more,” the pink haired girl mumbles sadly while looking down, but the Hokage lets it slide.

“You will have back-up,” Tsunade says and sees with the corner of her eye Sakura sucking in a breath, “the rest of Team 7 will be with you,” and then next thing she knows the girl is chocking on air.

“W-what?” Sakura coughed out, giving her teacher a desperate look.

She feels like she is the center of the world and it is slowly closing up on her. Life suddenly looks less appealing, because good old Team 7 is back on track again with Sakura’s first seduction mission as a head start.

“Tsunade-sama, please tell me you are joking.” The pink haired medic grabs the sides of the armchair and hopes it does not break and crumble along with her composure.

The young woman also hopes her teacher is having some kind of twisted pleasure out of this because she is certainly not feeling happy with the news.

Tsunade wants to reprimand her student for losing her temper, but she understands what the girl is going through and also knows she in no better position to talk when it comes to matters like this. Still though, ears and eyes are everywhere and they must keep a low profile when in the Hokage’s office.

“Sakura,” The curvy female looks at her seriously, “Team 7 will be the back-up of this mission and that’s final.”

I am doing it for your sake, Tsunade wants to say but keeps quiet instead.

Somehow, Sakura understands where her teacher is coming from. This will be a test for both sides. It is a test for her that is for sure. A test for patience, a test for her relationship, a test for her seduction abilities both on the target and Sasuke, because let’s be honest, who is going to calm down the last Uchiha other than her?

Sakura closes her eyes, takes a calming breath through her mouth and then controls the pattern as taught by Ino’s yoga lessons. She could do it this.

The young female opens her pretty green eyes once again and then stares at Tsunade straight in eye, a determined expression on her face. The will of fire is practically seeping through her and her fiery temper is burning up again but for another cause.

“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says proudly and hands her the scroll that has been lying on the wooden desk the whole time. “This is your target, Misty Jade.”

The first thing Sakura does when she steps into the house is to check for a specific chakra signature around the area. Sasuke pays frequent visits to her house nowadays you would think he lived in there, having keys and all, but alas.

She lets out a long sigh of relief, glad that she did not detect Sasuke’s compelling presence. Thank heavens, cost is clear. The twenty year old girl suspects that the males of Team 7 had already been called to Tsunade’s office, the second she was out of the vicinity. She mentally praises her teacher and then she decides to prepare for battle. The kunoichi briefly wonders how the hell she is supposed to deal with this. She has no clue how to handle this.

Sakura runs upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. She slams the door open, scroll still in hand, and starts rummaging through her things in order to pack. After a few minutes of checking everything, she put all the necessary items in her mission bag. From medical supplies to energy pills to scrolls to clothes to a sleeping bag and lastly to the money she will need for the seduction necessities she has to buy. Finally finished, she sits down on the bed, crumpling the blue silky sheets in the process. Then, Sakura unrolls the scroll and reads.

Mission #B039 Type: B-rank Specialist: F (female)

Stage: Pre Place: Village hidden in the Waterfalls

Target: Misao Takashi

Gender: Male

Age: 25 years old

Characteristics: Red hair, blue eyes and relatively tall.

Efficiency: Messenger

Information: Misao Takashi is an important messenger between two feud lords that control and lead illegal product transportations. Your mission is to seduce said messenger that has in his possession a folder with contract papers which contain info for the next meet up and also a pair of keys. This is the part one of the main ANBU mission that will follow after you succeed. Mission includes back-up. Good luck.

The kunoichi falls back on the bed with a flop, thinking how she should approach the mission. She idly scratches her scalp and tosses her body around from side to side, her long pink locks sprawled across the bed sheets moving along with her. Sakura knows what the village hidden in the Waterfalls is known for. And if her guesses are right, a guy like him would go to a special kind of place. The men of Team 7 will also go there.

“This is just great!” Sakura shouts even though no one is in the room.

She stares up at ceiling, her mind thinking of all the possibilities and scenarios. The pink haired girl knows what to do to succeed in this mission, however hiding from Sasuke is the main problem.

With huff she stands up and starts pacing around the room while babbling nonsense and muttering profanities out loud, until the idea hits her.

“Of course,” Sakura jumps on the bed, “Tsunade-shishou is the solution!”

She lies down, calm once again, and grabs a nearby pillow, squeezing it close to her chest. The warmth it provides calms her for a second, but she resists the urge to snuggle it closer. The girl can already imagine the Uchiha’s frown when she will tell him that she will be staying at Tsunade’s for a few days in order to work on some papers that have to do with the hospital.

Sakura just hopes he will believe it for her sake and for the sake of this mission.

❤︎

“It’s dirty and disgusting in here,” Sasuke mutters angrily, sitting uncomfortably on the animal print armchair, “Why do we even have to do this?”

The hot pink, soft and furry material irritates him even more as his elbow barely glides on it, making it difficult for him to nurse his drink. It is too warm, too velvety.

The last Uchiha almost growls out of sheer annoyance. This mission is far too low for his standards. He cannot believe he allowed himself to be dragged in here. His pride is hurt goddammit. Yes, he may be a man, but he has never set foot in a pleasure house. Or as his best friend and ex-sensei like to call it: a strip club.

The atmosphere is suffocating him, the lights are too dim. All kinds of different and hypnotizing aromas assault his senses, making his clear mind drunk and hazy. He cannot tell if it is his alcoholic beverage that is making him feel this way or it is the misty cloud of seduction and pleasure filled nights that surround this place.

The men of Team 7 have been assigned on a mission just yesterday as a backup to an ANBU specialist. Sasuke was definitely not pleased with the news, but he could not go against the fifth Hokage’s orders as much he wanted to, so he mildly complained until he was shushed by Tsunade. So, here they are today, in the place that their target and the other shinobi are supposed to be. Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake, being expert ninjas, have already detected the target sitting in the middle of the area, near the front. And now they have to wait. If something goes wrong, only then they are allowed to interfere.

“Focus, Sasuke.” Kakashi says calmly, a white hospital mask covering his face instead of his usual ninja attire. “A mission is a mission.”

The grey haired shinobi is collected as always, and Sasuke cannot help but scowl.

As if the ridiculous place is not enough problems, they were also forced to wear formal clothes. Supposedly, they are ordinary men looking for some fun and not ninjas who are capable of killing anyone in the room within seconds. Thus, the men of Team 7 have to make it believable by dressing up fancily to blend in with crowd and to stay undistinguished.

“Well, it’s not that bad in here.” Naruto tells them with a foxy grin on his face, clearly excited to be in a place like this. A slight blush is covering his cheeks since he has been consuming a few portions of alcohol for an hour now. The blond is pleasantly tipsy and happier than usual.

“Shut up Naruto,” Sasuke turns to his left and addresses his best friend, “If Hinata found out you’re here, she would dump you.”

Sasuke is very irritated, and that results to more insults and jibs than normal. He crosses his legs, right ankle meeting left knee, just to move and do something out of spite.

“T-That’s not true!” The man immediately tries to explain, “I told her it was a mission and she was okay with it!”

Naruto’s face visibly falls, and he looks at Sasuke with his puppy dog eyes. However, before the blonde could set off, being an emotional drunk and all, Sasuke just looks at other side, ready to ignore the impending whining.

Is he even allowed to be drinking on such mission? Kakashi better do something, Sasuke thinks, complaining inside his head instead.

“Don’t fight.” Their teacher interrupts, knowing how those two are and how bad they can get when Sakura is not around to stop them.

He has even given them just enough freedom, permitting them to drink, because he knows they are the back-up of this mission and not the main person. Kakashi strongly believes that intervention will not be needed, considering this an efficient ANBU specialist sent by the Hokage herself.

So, Kakashi just sits relaxed, waits and enjoys the show.

The oldest member of Team 7 is wearing a dark grey button-up shirt, the collar slightly open and a pair of black trousers. Naruto has a similar style, except he sports a nice pair of jeans with a light blue button-up shirt that makes his gorgeous eyes stand out more. Sasuke opts for a more classic style though, completing his look with black trousers, a white button-up shirt (with the first button undone) and an onyx suit jacket to top it off.

It is an extraordinary night today since the place is filled to the brim with men of all ages and from different villages, plus, the interior design of the club is full of pretty decorations. As the shining neon letters say outside on the wooden board above the club’s name, Hustler’s Ho, it promises a night of busty tricks and naughty chicks, and of course a special guest. Sasuke didn’t pay attention to the name, it is useless information anyways.

The waitresses are all beautiful women holding silver trays with glitter and fruity scented oils applied on their bodies and every time they move under the low dimmed lights to serve the customers, their smooth skins sparkle teasingly. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke, but despite that, the room somehow smells good because of the enticing scents that come off from all the perfume the females of the club have put on.

Red velvet curtains hang from the ceiling at the left side of the club and make up for entrances to the changing rooms, while the bar and the bathrooms are at the right side of it. In the center of the room is the stage where the lights shine the most since the ceiling has a lot of spotlights in all kinds of colors there. The rest of the huge area is only provided with low dimmed lights and that makes the dancers at the stage stand out more. The walls are painted a dark pink color and it gives the room a sense of obscurity and raw sexuality.

Great amount of money gets thrown at the stage as the ladies entertain the crowd with their dancing skills either on the poles or on the floor. Excited shouts of more can be heard even from where the members of Team 7 are seated at the back of the club. The dancers are barely dressed in Sasuke’s opinion; too much skin is bared for the eyes to feast. He averts his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

A dark blonde girl is currently dancing, her back turned to the pole, her hands up in the air touching the steel above her head. She is moving her lower half sexily in fluid left and right motions, her hips rolling expertly. The girl is wearing purple lingerie with her hair up in a high ponytail, and money is stuck in all kind of places from the men who put it there. She keeps it professional, but her face still expresses the hidden erotic feelings she wants to convey.

Then, all of a sudden, the music slowly quiets down and a deep male voice comes from the speakers. “Thank you dear, you were amazing as always! Please, grab your money and clear the stage.”

Sasuke silently scoffs and rolls his eyes at this. He should really stop drinking, the alcohol is making him show his irritation and that is not a good thing when on a mission. He has to keep his face impassive, bring forth a cold facade. Especially when in that said mission, Sakura is not there to calm him down and Naruto only breathes to make it worse for him with his antics. Of course, Kakashi is nonchalant as always.

The crowd gets almost completely silent, only a few murmurs can be heard now, and the unknown voice continues. “Only today, we have a special guest dancing…”

Without warning, a swift sound gains the attention of everyone inside the room. It is a whoosh of air fluttering against hard yet soft and velvet material that signals that the curtains have just been opened. The whispers get a tad bit louder at this, but get lost when the raspy voice resonates through the room once again. “Now, gentlemen, prepare to meet tonight’s special guest, a beauty and an exotic flower among the ladies…”

The sound came from the left side of the club, near the back. Heels clanking against the floor in a steady rhythm and elegant manner are the only thing that can be heard. The steps are light and slow paced. It has a nice ring to it, the continuous clicking is pleasant to the ears and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. The males of Team 7 hear loud gasps, watching as men are getting blown away by the mere sight of this special guest. Heads are turned, all the attention clearly diverted behind. The pace has a unique air of confidence that no one can quite put their finger on. The woman has a stealthy and powerful walking. A soft tune starts playing as an intro while the woman comes closer and closer to the stage.

The dancer narrows the distance between her and the stage as she takes painfully slow steps towards it or so it seems to the eager men. The shadow that still hovers near the area where Team 7 is –thanks to the somber and tricky lighting– hides her, until finally, a curvy form starts to appear as she comes forth to where the light is. Her silver, almost dark gray, stilettos are the first things that show. A few agonizingly and torturous seconds later, long legs and fair smooth skin come into view.

Naruto reacts first, an exclamation leaving his lips. It is not a sharp inhalation of amazement, but it is a loud gasp of shock. His blue eyes widen and there are hazy no more. Cold sweat forms on his forehead, and he is feeling like someone threw cold water on him to wake him up and bring him back to the harsh reality. It is definitely not an easy feat to astound the ninja who is known as the best at surprising people.

The voice resonates through the room once again and the male starts praising the newcomer dancer, “An exotic babe, outstanding with high class skills.” The announcement is over, and the music gets steadily louder while the special guest is one step away from the stage.

She just stands still with her back on the cheering crowd for a few seconds as if to bewitch the already elated men with her beauty. The young woman is posing sensually and it compliments her already perfect body. She is captivating in every sense. Her legs are long and toned while her tights are voluptuous and her rear is curvy. Her waist is slight bent and it makes her behind stand out even more. Her back sparkles teasingly thanks to the glittery substance that has been applied on her skin everywhere on her body. She lifts her left hand up to course it through her silky long locks while her right one is resting on her inner tight in a provocative pose.

That unmistakable pink hair belongs only to one person.

Kakashi feels his mouth hanging open inside his mask. This event took a very fast turn for the worst and he does not like the ending result at all. She is the last person he could think of going up there if you had asked him about it. He closes his eyes and hums quietly awaiting for the impeding doom waiting to happen.

Sasuke reacts not a second too late and his breath hitches. A flash of light blinds him and he blinks his eyes twice in response. The lighting must be playing tricks on him, because there is no fucking way this is Sakura ready to go up there. He freezes and his face goes rigid. His calculating yet beautiful onyx eyes widen and his naturally pouty lips part slightly in shock. A wave of cool air passes by him –probably someone activated a fan to create more special effects for such a unique guest– and it makes his soft black hair flutter in the wind. An intoxicating scent fills his senses and clouds every ounce of rationality within him.

The special guest goes up the stage, turns around and Sasuke can breathe no more.

“Please welcome, Misty Jade!”

Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.

#sasusaku #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #ssfanfiction #ssfanfic #ssfic #sasusaku fanfiction #depending on the response i am going to get i am going to post the next chapter #this is a tease fic yall #my baby strawberrycreampiefluff is the bessst #my first after yeaaaars boi #yes i am 4everxd #vasoula writes

89 notes · View notes

namfine · 5 years ago

Text

⦿ | 𝕲𝖚𝖑𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕝𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 | ⦿

gluttony is the over-indulgence and over-consumption of food, drink, or wealth items.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

β pairing: kim seokjin x reader

β word count: 5.3k

β summary: your boyfriend’s mastery of the kitchen is a pleasant surprise. he loves watching you enjoy the food he makes for you, and he has you eating out of the palm of his hand- literally. when a cute little game turns into something more sinister, can you handle the heat, or do you need to get out of the kitchen?

β tags: 18+/smut, bts smut, seokjin x reader, reader insert, boyfriend jin, blindfold, strip game, food play, oral (f + m receiving), light breath play, ripping clothes, unprotected sex (pls stay safe kids), lite monster fucking?, demon au

β part: 2 out of 7 of our seven deadly sins milestone challenge

⋫ link to master list here

β a/n: heya everyone! hope you enjoyed zesty’s first chapter yesterday! we’re diving a little deeper into the next sin. things will continue to unravel from here, so be sure to stay tuned because we will be releasing a chapter every day this week! please go to the masterlist linked above to see the rest of the chapters- you’re definitely going to want to read these bad boys in order. thanks luv, enjoy!

love, ya girl minty ✧

Jin’s front door opens, and a wall of aromas smack right into you. The scents flying into your nose whisk you away to a faraway shoreline, where the fresh breeze is hinted with a little bit of the ocean’s saltiness. The bright smell of lemon and the rich smell of wood chips fill you with delight, and your stomach churns at the thought of what he’s prepared for you.

You have been seeing Jin for a couple of months at this point, and he had finally, finally offered for the two of you to have a special dinner at his house. You’d been dreaming of taking it further with him every time you had been out with him, but he was a very classy guy, not that you were opposed. He had been intent on the two of you taking time with your budding relationship. Though you had spent hours flushed at your daydreams of him between your legs, eager for him to just get down there already, you allowed your desire to build inside of you. When you were finally allowed to let the dam burst, you wanted it to be a flood.

He is easily the dreamiest guy you’d ever seen in your life. He’s tall. He’s got the most gorgeous set of lips. His laugh is just ridiculous enough to be endearing. When you’d hugged him goodbye at the end of these last several dates you’d been on, his strong and broad shoulders rippling under your arms had your knees weakened and crumbling in moments. He’s incredibly handsome, and he knows it.

And you love it.

You’re plucked back to reality when you catch Jin looking you over, slowly up and down, taking in every inch of your form with his hungry eyes. His eyes are much darker than you remember, but it could just be a trick of the light. Tonight, they look like they’re churning with something mischievous. He’s also never been so bold about checking you out before. Perhaps there is a hope there’s more to his menu tonight than just food.

“Come in from the night, beautiful,” he says, reaching for your waist and helping you in his front door, “you’re right on time; everything is just about ready.”

You’re glad to come indoors, too. The sun had just barely fully set, but it had already turned cold. He gently shuts the door behind you as you take off your shoes, and for a moment, a waft of something sharp hits your senses. It smells a little like something is roasting, maybe broccoli, judging by that slight sulfur tang.

“What smells so good, Jin?” you ask flirtatiously as you follow him into the kitchen. You take a seat on the stool at his kitchen island and watch as he begins stirring something in a large pot ever so gently. His dress shirt sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and taking in the sight is stirring something within you.

“I’ve got one pretty big lobster finishing up in that pot next to me, and this one I’m stirring has the pasta. I’ll be adding the meat to the lemon butter sauce in that pan there, and then I’ll toss it with the capellini which should… just… be… about… done?” he says, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he whisks out a steaming noodle and slurps it into his mouth, leaving his perfect bottom lip slightly damp. God, you want his mouth on you so badly, you feel like you could die. “Mmm,” he says, “al dente,” and you can’t rip your eyes off of how his lips move when he speaks. It’s almost as if his words came out in slow motion. That’s how mesmerizing this man is. If there wasn’t a steaming pot in front of you, it would be so easy to just lean across the counter and kiss him, to finally feel his lips on yours, to hold onto his shoulders as--

“Wanna try?” he asks, breaking you from your devilish thoughts. You find his hand itches away from your lips, offering you a noodle that is hanging delicately off of his pointer and middle fingers. You swallow hard before opening your lips and wrapping your mouth over his fingertips, using your tongue to secure the noodle before pulling yourself off. You dared to look up into his eyes, desperately hoping that he would understand your verbal message. You needed him to know how badly you wanted him. His eyes flashed with something incomprehensible, something that looked like, for a moment, wild anger, and you quickly avert your gaze and really hope he wasn’t turned off by your eager advancement. Just as you mentally scold yourself, it hits you again. That smacking smell of sulfur, for just an instant.

“Is there broccoli too?” you ask, trying to play off your daring move. “I thought I smelled some when I walked in.”

“No broccoli, just a summer salad for a side,” he says casually, looking back across his shoulders as he drains the pasta in the sink, steam rising. “I hope that doesn’t disappoint you,” he adds with a little bit of his odd laugh, “I’ve never heard of anyone being upset at a lack of broccoli.”

“No, it’s fine,” you laugh as he turns back to the stove to grab the other pot with the lobster, “I just swore I could have smelled it. Either that or maybe boiled eggs? Maybe for the salad?”

He turns back to the sink to drain out this pot, and you see three large bright red-orange lobsters fall out into the colander.

“Nope, not that either, I’m afraid,” he says as he carries the lobsters onto his wooden cutting board and begins the de-shelling process. “The salad is a mix of field greens and spinach with candied pecans, sunflower seeds, sliced strawberry and mandarin oranges, topped with a simple vinaigrette. No egg in sight, my dear.”

You hear a patter and a tinkling sound from his hallway and moments later, a little black and tan miniature pinscher trots out.

“Jin! I didn’t know you had a dog,” you say, reaching down to let the little guy sniff your hand. He seems unimpressed and hops onto the lounge chair just in the other room.

“Name’s Spot. I got him as a guard dog.”

You glance over at the small pup curled up on the chair and snicker. “There’s no way he’s a guard dog. He’s so cute and tiny!”

Jin laughs a little, “He gets the job done. Alright!” Jin exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Dinner is ready! Go get comfortable,” he says, gesturing to the table, “I’ll bring you your plate.”

Wow, you think, he’s really going over the top with this dinner. You seat yourself and take in how beautifully the table’s been set. Two matching sets of sparkling white dinnerware on either side of the table, and in between, two small candles sit, waiting to be lit. There’s a beautiful clear glass bottle of still water and a very expensive looking white wine to your left. You pick up the wine bottle and give it a look. LaVeyan Vineyards. You’ve heard that name before, but you can’t quite place it.

You glance back up at Jin who is skillfully plating your food, before glancing over to Spot who is sleeping soundly on the chair. You nearly drop the bottle of wine in your surprise, because there are three dogs on the living chair. You forcefully shut your eyes, only to open them and still find the three dogs still there sound asleep. Just as you’re about to turn and call over to Jin, he sits your plates in front of you and caresses your shoulder, interrupting your gaze from the growing dogpile. When you look back, there’s just the one little snoring pinscher again.

“What is it?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he rubs circles on your shoulder. “You look like you might be nauseous.”

“No, I’m fine,” you say, “I just must be really hungry.”

“Well, then, enjoy!” Jin says, watching you intently as you take a generous first bite of your salad. The taste is nothing like you’ve ever had before. The sweet nuttiness of the pecans, the crispness of the fresh spinach, the crunch of the sunflower seeds and the tartness of the orange and vinaigrette swirl together and overwhelm and consume you. You melt away, feeling like you and the food are one.

Sometime later, the wine is gone and your plates are clean. There’s not a drop of sauce or dressing left. You’ve never been so full in your life, even still, you long to eat more.

“Jin, this has to be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I can’t believe you made this.”

“Only the best for you. But I do hope you have room left, because I think it’s time for… dessert.”

“Dessert?”

“I’d like to play a little game with you. You’re going to close your eyes, and I’m going to feed you something. Using only your taste and smell, you have to tell me what it is. If you get it wrong, there will be… consequences.”

This piqued your interest. You’d almost fainted when Jin let you eat the pasta off of his hand earlier. You wonder for a moment again if he knows just how weak he makes you.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

You do as you're told, shaking with anticipation. Your world becomes dark, and you sit there waiting for Jin. Something cool touches your lips, and you part them a little bit to allow the food in. It’s a slightly conical shape, but there’s no taste to it.

“Bite.”

As soon as you bite, the familiar flavor bursts onto your tongue. As you chew, the sweet and tangy flavor coats your mouth, and you smile, knowing that you’ll get this one right.

“Strawberry. Easy.”

“Very good. This next one will be a little harder.”

The next sensation to hit your lips is a surprisingly cool and tangy pudding-like texture. It swirls with what feels like a warm whipped cream that’s been toasted. You can taste the little bit of char on the top, and then there's the crunch of something buttery as you chew. This one is definitely more complex, but you’ve had this before.

“Lemon meringue pie.”

“You’re right again, my dear.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that, Jin.”

Your eyes remain closed as you feel something smooth and cool graze against your bottom lip. You open wider to accommodate, and as you close your lips around it, you feel that you’re eating off of a spoon. Once the spoon is gone, you’re left with a sweet and spongy mouthful of… something. This one is definitely more difficult. There’s coffee, cream, and chocolate. Some sort of cake texture fights with a fluffy cream for dominance. There’s something familiar about this taste, though. You remember having it several summers ago with your friend Soobin. Where were you? You struggle to bring up the memory. The smell of fresh bread and a summer breeze soars through you. You’re hit with the smell of after dinner coffee, and then you can see a small plate in front of you at the cafe table. You were in Italy, and the dish you had shared with Soobin was…

“Tiramisu.”

“Impressive. Although I was hoping you would get it wrong. Let me try again.”

“You’re on.”

Feeling cocky, you sit there with your mouth wide open. You’re more than ready for his next challenge.

In slides something warm and sticky, and you feel the juice coat your tongue as you chew. It’s definitely rice; the texture is unmistakable. It’s sweet, tropical, and pudding-like in consistency. A sticky sweet bite of fruit bursts in your mouth. The cold fruit fights with the warm pudding for dominance, and they end up in a draw, mixing perfectly with each other to create something so harmonious, it should be impossible. You’ve never tasted anything like this, and it’s driving you crazy.

“So, what is it?” Jin asks. You don’t have to be able to see to know he has a smug look on his face.

“Let me have another bite,” you say. He obliges and you’re sent again into the whirlwind of flavor. This time you pick out coconut and mango as those tropical flavors, as the combination dances on your tongue and drives you dizzy.

“I’ve never had anything like this, Jin.”

“Does that mean that you can’t give me a correct answer?”

“Is it… rice pudding?”

“No, it’s not.”

You open your eyes. There’s nothing on the table but your empty plates and the table setting. Where did those deserts come from?

“I have to know what that was. That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“First… Consequences, my dear,” Jin says, standing from the table. He strides over to you and lifts you up out of the chair by your hands. He leads you out of the kitchen and down the short hallway into his bedroom.

“J-Jin?” you stutter, “what are we doing?”

“Consequences.” he states, sitting you on the end of his bed. As you sink into the soft comforter, he walks to his dresser and retrieves something out of the drawer. He turns back around and presents to you a dull orange blindfold.

“I didn’t say you could open your eyes yet, so I guess this is the only way I can be sure you won’t peek,” he says, poking his tongue into the side of his mouth. The change in scenery seeps in.

“Are we going to continue… in here?”

“I’d like to… heighten the stakes a little,” he says, towering over you. He holds your jaw delicately in his hand, and directs you to look up at him. “Every time you guess wrong, I get to remove a piece of your clothing.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“And once I have you the way I want you, because you will be getting every answer wrong from here on out, I’m going to eat you up. How does that sound?”

There’s no way you can speak right now, so you just affix the blindfold over your eyes and release a shaky breath.

“Very good. Now tell me, what is this?”

You bite down on something that feels like melon, but the taste is… bizarre. It’s savory, and you feel the ice cold juice run out and coat your tongue. It’s incredibly delicious, but you have no idea what it is. It’s an impossible food. As you chew, it gets more and more complex; flavors of cinnamon and ginger swirl together and then as it breaks down further, you begin to taste… ash.

“Jin, what is this?”

“I’ll take that as wrong answer number one. First, your shirt. I’ve been wondering what your bra looks like all night. I bet you put on your sexiest set, hoping I would see it.”

You had never imagined for him to be this… blunt. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t turning you on further. Him simply feeding you already had you soaked. You feel his hands on your hips, and his fingers dip beneath the hem of your blouse, inching it up and gingerly lifting it over your head, careful to not disturb the blindfold. You hear his breath hitch when your breasts are exposed to the chilly air. He was right, you did put on your nicest bra. The way your simple necklace draped down your cleavage and accentuated the curve of your breast was lighting a fire in him.

“Of course you have perfect tits,” he mumbles. As you open your mouth to ask him what that was supposed to mean, he gingerly places another morsel on your lips. He must be eager for you to try again. You bite down and crack through some sort of hard coating, and a sticky inside clings to your molars. You chew and chew, trying to decipher the flavor, but really nothing is there. It’s as if you were chewing on air. Only when you swallow, you’re met with the taste of dust.

“Jin, this is getting weird,” you say.

“Do you not know what this one is either?” Jin asks, a slightly teasing tone slipping like honey from his lips.

“It didn’t taste like anything at all, Jin!”

“Are you saying I fed you something bad?”

“No, I-”

“Okay then, sweetheart,” he says, slipping his fingers along the inside of your thigh, dipping just below the hem of your skirt, “I think you know what comes next.”

Your breath hitches as he unzips your side zipper. He takes his sweet ass time with it too, fingers barely grazing your hip as he shimmies the fabric down. Your palms begin to sweat as you reflexively lift yourself up to help him get them off.

“You are a hungry woman, aren’t you?” Jin questions as you hear your skirt hit the floor. You really wish you could see where he is. You really wish you could see where exactly he’s looking. “I knew you would be a dangerous little thing, but coming into my house, my realm, my domain without the decency to even wear panties?”

You unconsciously cross your legs and tilt your head away from where his deep voice is speaking from a distance. You can’t see him looking at you, but you can feel it. You can feel the weight of his gaze roaming over your body. You feel utterly exposed, and a little humiliated. You also feel very aroused. As if he can read your thoughts, he speaks again, this time quietly into the shell of your ear.

“You know you came here with one thing on your mind. You’ve been teasing me all night. Look at you, you’re practically shaking,” he says with a small chuckle, “you’re touch starved, aren’t you, my darling?”

His large hands wander down your waist and hips and he grips your thigh, just firm enough for you to feel small bruises forming where his fingertips dig into your flesh. His grip is almost sharp, but that tiny bit of pain only causes you to clench around nothing.

“I did promise to eat you up, did I not?” Jin says, as you feel him getting closer to your bare form. There’s an immense heat radiating off of him, and that drives you to reach out and touch him. His chest is as firm and tight as you’d imagined, but his skin is hot to the touch, almost burning. He slightly winces at the coolness of your touch, but is only emboldened by your engagement.

You feel yourself being shoved back onto his mattress, and your breath leaves your lungs upon impact. The next thing you know, your legs are being roughly opened, the cool air against your dripping heat causing you to clench again. Jin chuckles darkly.

“I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re already dripping for me,” he says, swiping up your entrance and collecting some of your slick. You hear an obscene popping noise, and as soon as you realize what he’s done, you gasp. The mental image you have of Jin’s perfect lips coated in your slick has to be nothing compared to what he actually looks like right now. There’s a guttural groan, not much more than a low rumble coming from the man between your thighs.

“My dear, the gods knew what they were doing when they made you. They knew you would ruin me.”

Before you can ask, his mouth is firmly on your slit, sucking and nibbling at your folds like a man starved. He grunts into your sopping cunt, hands firm on your legs as he slurps up every last drop of you. Your hands find purchase on his comforter, and you thrust up into him, a silent beg for more.

His tongue slides inside of you, farther than you think it ought to go, but you’re too far gone reeling in ecstasy to protest. His tongue splits you open as his nose finds purchase on your aching clit, and you’re sent into a silent scream. Your hands race to his beautiful black hair to hold onto him for dear life, wanting to be assured he can’t pull away. You twist your fingers through his soft locks and find purchase on two solid objects protruding from his head.

You edge closer, begging him not to stop as he struggles to hold your hips in place. His tongue is replaced by two of his fingers, that same sharpness you felt before on your thigh now at your inner walls. He curls his fingers up into the spot that will have you seeing stars, and he finally speaks again. This time, his voice is almost an octave lower, and heavy with desire.

“I can’t wait to taste your orgasm on my tongue. Cum for me, darling. Let me taste all that your sweet pussy has to offer.”

And with that, you come undone.

It’s as if your climax rips through your body and destroys everything in its wake. Your bones feel like jelly, and your mind is torn to shreds. Here, in this time and place, it’s as if you cease to exist for an instant. You are utterly consumed by your orgasm. The pleasure is so great that you forget who and what you are; all you know is that you want more. You don’t even register that you’re screaming until you start to come back down. Your body pieces itself back together, your heartbeat resumes normalcy, and you find your hands still firmly affixed to Jin’s silky hair.

“I want more,” you say, voice cracking. You’re met with another growl, this time directly on your swollen folds. You get a glimpse for only a moment out of the bottom of your blindfold, and that instance will forever be burned into your mind. Jin is looking straight up at you from between your thighs, slick coating his plump and swollen lips. His irises are no longer the warm chocolate hue you’ve grown to love, but between the few stray strands of hair that has fallen into his face now lie two bright and churning orange eyes.

“What, one orgasm not enough for you?” the man teases, “I knew you were a hungry woman, but I hadn’t pegged you as glutton for punishment. Are you sure you can handle more of me?”

“Jin, let me be clear: I want you to give me everything you have. I want it all.”

You can hear him exhale deeply as you feel him crawling on top of you. His heat again radiates onto your chest, and intensifies as he comes closer. He’s thrown one leg to each side of you, and his weight on your hips is delicious.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You don’t realize the mess you’re getting yourself in, little one,” he says, almost tenderly, as he grazes your collarbones with his touch.

“I think it is you who will be rendered a mess when this is all over, dear.” you retort, confident in your ability to make him see stars as well.

“Don’t hold your breath,” he mumbles against your ear. “Or… do.” he says and quickly fastens his hand around the base of your neck. Your heart quickens its pace at your lack of oxygen, but you’re determined to hold out. Only when you start seeing spots does he let go and wrap his hands around your body tenderly.

“I bet you thought I was going to be rather plain when it comes to sex,” he toys. “You thought you were going to come in here and seduce me tonight. You thought you were with an innocent man. You thought wrong. Nothing could be further from the truth, little one.”

The hand that was once caressing your back is now ripping through the fabric of your bra. As you hear the fabric tear, you feel a deep rumble in Jin’s chest. How can anyone be strong enough to tear through the band of your bra?

Maybe you had bitten off more than you can chew.

You hear what you assume to be your bra hitting the floor, and Jin wastes no time in making you putty in his hands again. He is busy placing open mouthed kisses over your chest and down your cleavage, taking special care to remove your delicate necklace.

“You should be more careful with pretty necklaces,” he says into the crook of your neck, biting down there where your pulse point is. You feel something poking against the inside of your leg, and you wonder for a moment when he managed to remove his pants.

“Jin, please,” you beg, your voice lingering on his name, hoping the extra little bit of whine would get you what you want. You feel his cock twitching right at your folds, and having what you desire be so close and yet so far away is the closest thing to actual torture you’ve ever experienced. You start clenching around nothing again each time you feel his cock twitch. You’re still so wet, he could just so easily slip right i-

Your thoughts are cut short as he takes his time inserting himself into your still dripping cunt. You thought it would be frictionless, but clearly he is much... bigger than you’d anticipated. Inch by inch, he slowly sinks into you. The stretch is slightly painful, but the fullness that accompanies it is to die for. His tip reaches your cervix, and you realize that there is still more of him to go.

He pauses. You whimper.

“I warned you, beautiful,” is all he says before he’s slamming into you over and over again, hitting your cervix and sending waves of pleasure through you. The slight pain fades and all you’re left with is unbelievable ecstasy. You reach up to hold onto his shoulders, desperate for support. You feel the muscle ripple under your touch, as he uses his arms to grab your hips. You don’t remember his hands being this big, but they seem to be able to wrap all the way around your hips.

In no time, you feel yourself approaching your second high, and you wrap your hands around his back. You want to dig your nails into his skin; you want him to notice the scratch marks you leave and be reminded of tonight. On your way down, you feel a rough patch of skin near his shoulder blades. Like it’s been shredded over and over again. Jin hisses as your hands drape over his scars, and you’re afraid you hurt him, but it’s followed with the deepest groan you’ve heard yet. His hips start to sputter, and you can tell he’s getting close. You scratch down his back once more and you finally get to hear how he sounds when he comes undone. His release triggers your own, and you’re both reeling through your orgasms, panting hard into each other’s mouths.

He pulls out of you with an obscene pop and you wince at the loss of warmth. You sit up, wondering where he’s gone, but in a flash his warm hands are on your shoulders, holding you steady.

“You think I’m done with you yet?” he asks, “Or is that all you can take? Do you still want more?”

You feel his seed drip out of you, and that sparks an idea. You quickly get onto your knees in front of him and let your hands roam down his torso until you find his cock, still completely hard. You guide his tip to your mouth, and you hear him gasp. You take in just his tip, tasting yourself on him, and let out a moan of your own.

“You know,” you say against the shaft of his cock, “You would enjoy this so much more if I could make eye contact with you.”

“You’re insufferable, aren’t you?” he grunts out as you continue to tease his tip with your tongue. “You’re almost too hot to handle, you know that? I’d be surprised if anyone else can… handle you like I can.”

“Just admit that you’re not strong enough to last long if I take your whole dick and look at you. Or I could just take off the blindfold and you could prove me wrong.”

“Well, well, is that some pride I see?” he asks with a low chuckle, “Oh dear, you’re in for quite a ride, aren’t you? Have it your way, spoiled brat,” he says as he rips the blindfold off.

Your eyes have to adjust to the new level of light, but when they do, you’re met with the most intense stare you’ve ever seen. Jin is staring right through you, right between the stray pieces of hair that’s fallen into his face. His whole body glistens with sweat; his chest is flashing as he breathes. From his parted lips come his last demand, wrapped up nicely in just a single word.

“Swallow.”

You waste no time in showing him what you can do. You alternate teasing his head with taking him as much as you can with some help from your hands. You quicken the pace and hollow out your cheeks as you make eye contact with him, getting lost in his beautiful brown eyes. He tilts his head back and you can see his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to contain himself. His abdominal muscles clench when you hit a particularly sensitive spot, and you know you’ve got him.

He told you to swallow, but you don’t think he was anticipating you being able to do this.

You paused, only just to catch his attention and have his eyes back on you. Opening your throat, you ease down every last inch he has, and he fingers through your hair, using it as a hold as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are stinging your eyes as his devilish length hits the back of your throat, but you know he’s close again.

You hold out until he’s a sputtering mess inside of you, and his cum is like honey on your tongue. You’ve never tasted something so delicious, and you don’t think you ever will again. You wait for Jin to finish, and without wavering eye contact, you look up at him with your best innocent expression, and display your cum covered tongue. You swallow, as instructed, and lay down feeling proud of yourself.

“You’re going to be trouble, woman,” is all he says before laying down next to you, cock still twitching, eyes closed as he tries to gather himself.

You take this time to scan the room, now only being able to properly see everything. There’s a beautiful painting of two people mid-sex act, and you make a mental note to ask him about it later, because you notice something rather odd.

You’ve been on your dinner date for maybe a few hours, but according to the sun outside of his bedroom window, it’s the middle of the afternoon. You look back over to the resting Jin to say something, but the reflection of his back in his dresser mirror is… not right. The skin on his back is… cracked. Like a porcelain doll.

“Jin?” you sheepishly ask.

He opens his eyes.

They’re bright orange.

#seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #jin x reader #jin smut #demon au #demon!jin #demon!seokjin #seven deadly sins #admin minty #kim seokjin #seokjin x you

179 notes · View notes