#the literal god ray illuminating his veins?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mysweetpoisons · 2 years ago

Text

Deep below the surface

Pairing: Namor/ K’uk’ulkan x reader

Warnings: smut without plot, +18, spit, dominant namor, oral, p in v

Word count: +2700

The massive crafted stone doors are pushed shut behind you, confining you from the stern looks of the Talokanil guards.

The underwater cave is massive, spacious enough to be carved into a formidable palace, the place continues to amaze you each passing day as you explore it through your assigned chores.

This room, however, you have never been privy to. The majestic throne room that has witnessed uncountable meetings and hearings over the centuries. And, in the center of the blue-illuminated salon is him. K’uk’ulkan. The name his people chant in reverent prayers, dancing salons and upcoming battles.

The feathered serpent god is sitting proudly on his throne, the halo of sharp teeth at his back adding a literal extra edge to his posture.

He's wearing that attire. The ceremonial helmet that has excitement running through your veins. You had only caught glimpses of it before, the mesmerizing movement of the colored feathers, the vivid red, green and blue contrasting against the dark gold and the soft glinting of the encrusted jewels.

Vibrant colors, brown golden skin and rich brown eyes as exhilarating as fresh coffee beans.

No soul is immune to such beauty, especially not yours. But this? Looking at him feels like looking at the sun without glasses. His burning rays weaken your steps so much so that you almost end up toppling over when your knees meet the cold floor.

" My king " you greet with a soft voice and your head lowering in respect.

" Come closer, surface dweller "

Feeling a little bold, you decide to crawl to him until your hands reach the step where his feet rest. Your body is perfectly aligned with his middle.

Namor reaches down to cradle your face in his large hand. The gesture is almost sweet until the rough skin of his thumb taps your chin, directing your eyes up to his and sending a shiver to travel down your spine.

" You have kept me waiting. Tell me, have you forgotten your place?"

"I'm so-" your apology is cut out short by his tsk of disapproval.

Without speaking, Namor spreads his legs even wider for you to accommodate between them. A silent message that you get straight away: actions speak louder than words.

Instantly, your hands move up his legs, adoring the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your fingers, his skin wet yet still so warm.. exactly like that day.

That day, when the storm clouds had crushed the sky, the thunder struck in a deafening blast and freed the rain to flood. He had appeared among the waves, cloaked as another part of the wreck. Then surfaced again, on the other side of the tattered board you had been sustaining yourself on. The tempest in his eyes, a mirror of the one surrounding you.

The offer was simple: die to become seafood or live to never come back. While the ship drowned behind your back, you were holding your arms out, surrendering to the cold angry waves to be caught and carried away by warm arms.

Warm spreads all over your body just like that day as you slide your hands up his thighs slowly. Your fingers toy with the fraying edges of the loincloth he's wearing and then flick it to the side revealing his barely concealed bulge. A sight that never fails to have you licking your lips, those tight and short shorts are as much of a menace as he is.

You palm his cock through the green fabric, feeling it stir at your touch. You can almost feel his fingers twitching with impatience, the need to fist your hair and urge you on. You continue to tease him, this time with your tongue darting out to lick the straining fabric around his half-hard-on, then nuzzling your nose along the way, following its shape.

It isn't wise to provoke a god but the truth is that he needn't be demanding because a moment after your own desire to please him has you freeing his thick cock and fisting it almost urgently.

As precum escapes its head, the tip of your tongue rushes out to taste it, swirling it in your mouth and spitting it right out, the mixed fluids dripping down his shaft as he hisses. You keep your tongue pressing slightly on the leaking slit, opening your lips to bring his head inside your mouth, sucking on it lightly. His large girth already sets an uncomfortable sting in your lower jaw. Your eyes climb up to his, finding two black pools of burning lust that make you squeeze your legs together looking for some kind of release from the kick of arousal in your stomach.

"Is that all you can take?" he mocks " You disappoint me, surface dweller"

Oh, he knew you could take much much more, he was just being cruel.

Working him down your throat was always a challenge, a challenge you were gladly accepting each time.

So you renew your efforts to fit more of him, setting a pace that has saliva rolling down your chin, willing your throat to reach as far as you can while your tongue continues to trace each vein and ridge of his hard cock, leaving no trace of skin unexplored. Even when you gag and sputter around him you keep going, jerking off what you can't fit in your mouth.

You can see he's close, his chest is heaving, betraying his agitated state, his knuckles clutching the rudimental armrests while his legs part widely, twitching with the need to thrust up and choke you even more.

To imagine that he wants this almost as much as you do, to think that he needs this, he needs you.. is … intoxicating.

Having one goal in mind, you start to suck harder, bobbing up and down until tears fall from your eyes and your throat burns. His hand shoots out to fist your hair, catching you mid bob and pushing you even further down when he cums, filling your mouth and throat with his spend and groaning his release while you moan messily around his length, the vibration adding an extra stimulation that prolongs his orgasm, spilling even more cum into your awaiting throat.

Your pussy throbs needily while you clean him off, swallowing audibly any drop that could have escaped your mouth.

After you have finished, his hand drops down to cradle the side of your face as you catch your breath against his thigh.

His thumb is drawing the line of your jaw when he commands huskily "Open", your mouth obeys him immediately showing that you have dutifully swallowed everything he gave you "Good. You did so good. Now, you think you deserve a reward ?" the rough pad of his thumb pulls down your lower lip admiring the soft pillowy skin as he continues to taunt you seductively "Think your pretty little body can take it?"

You nod, waiting at his feet for doing it all over again. At least it was what you expected from that very first time. That time (not so far from your arrival to Talokan) when you had hunted Namor, fell to your knees before him and begged to release him from those hideously tempting shorts to please him with your mouth. Since then, he has never been satisfied with cumming once nor seeing you once a day and the sentiment was mutual. You have become insatiable, your desire to touch more of him, to elicit groans or any kind of unrestrictedly lustful reaction from him growing each passing day.

That's why a surprised yet pleased gasp escapes you when he joists you up into his lap.

Namor chuckles and bares you unceremoniously, untying the knot at your neck that holds your dress up. His eyes devour you as his large hands trace your body starting by your neck, following your pulse point down to your collarbone and lower to the sides of your breasts, touching every erogenous zone delicately. He stops at the top of your thighs to spread his fingers, thumbs moving up and down the line of your venus, digging into the flesh where your legs and pelvis meet and sending electric thrills to your core.

"So soft and warm" his murmur is barely audible, almost as if his words aren't destined for your ears

You feel his hand cupping your heat next, the heel pressing against your bundle of nerves as his fingers easily slide down your slit and press at your sopping entrance.

Your hole clenches and sucks them in greedily, your entire body curling into the abyss of early ecstasy. He must realize this at the same time as you do because his smirk turns devilish.

"Haven't even touched you yet and you've already made a mess of yourself" his fingers sink into your heat, steadily coaxing you open "What's caught you so excited huh?"

Swift as the snake he's been compared to over the centuries, he catches your eyes rising to his headdress and hears the erratic flutter of your beating heart.

"Oh, you like this mmm.."- the torture of his fingers dragging languidly over your walls never stopping "Go on, tell me what you think"

"It's so..." you extend your hand tracing the curves of the golden beast up to the feathers and green aquatic leaves, not daring to touch any of it, afraid you will tarnish them somehow just by being so close " magnificent.." your eyes turning back to the god facing you, watching closely and unexpectedly quiet. Sometimes, he can even read your thoughts, but right now you're sure he can read your eyes. He sees through the praise, the amazement and reverence that lie beyond are not purely directed to what sits above his head.

He kisses you then. Pulling from your hair, he connects his lips with yours to capture you in a voracious kiss. His kisses used to be angry, long but measured. Now, they have morphed into life-consuming spells. One kiss was enough to have you drowning in desire, your body invaded by a thirst that could only be quenched by him: his lips, his hands, his cock.

His tongue breaches the seam of your lips, tasting them as he does so, then invades your mouth to fight and defeat yours. Each breath you take against his open mouth burns, the scrape of his teeth on your lower lip adding another log to the pyre. It's enough to make you lose your mind, shamelessly mewling while your hips move up and down, fucking yourself on his thick fingers. He parts his mouth from yours and your moans fill the room unobstructedly.

"Hold it" the warning is whispered into your ear, his dark voice electric like the thunder before a storm.

The single tear that falls from your eye at the effort is snatched by his finger, the pearly bubble dissolving in his skin.

"Poor, desperate surface dweller." the chocolate in his eyes is now completely melted "You're so lucky you taste so sweet."

The world seems to fold upside down when you're lifted and turned around, your butt landing on the throne with your legs parted wide open by strong hands.

Next thing you know Namor kneels and plunges his tongue inside you, then drags it out, licking up your slit once, twice and finally, his entire mouth takes as much flesh as he can and sucks, pulling deliciously on your clit and slurping your essence as if he was eating his favorite fruit. You completely forget how to breathe, as your legs start to shake uncontrollably around him and your head hits his throne.

The mere image of him sucking on your pussy like a maniac at the feet of his own throne is enough to send you over the edge. Your hands wildly reach out to hold onto something as the pleasure turns unbearable. Denied of his lush hair they land instead on the gold shoulder plates, scraping needily on the metal as you cum, crying silently in shock at the suddenness of the white burning bliss that crushes you. He sucks your abused folds one more time and raises.

His hand brings you back to consciousness, squeezing your cheeks and prying your lips open only to spit in your mouth. He doesn't have to say a word, you swallow it all instinctively.

"You're so dirty " he chuckles satisfied "and you're about to get dirtier, surface dweller"

He engulfs your lips yet again, sharing the remnants of your taste on his tongue as he manhandles you into a position he likes, yanking you down and pushing your knees up your chest with firm arms.

Moaning into the kiss, you feel the blunt tip of his already hard cock rubbing on your sensitive folds, parting them to push against your entrance. Slowly, he eases his head inside allowing you some reprieve before his mercy runs thin and he continues on, burying himself in one powerful thrust, reaching your limit and knocking all of the air from your lungs. The stretch overwhelms you with stinging pleasure, like thorns pricking on your nerves with shocks of bliss.

"Always so warm" he groans, his words fueling the heat in your belly as his lips part from yours moving down to mark your throat.

He drives his hips into yours, setting an unforgiving pace while searching and finding that spongy spot behind your front wall. Guided by your lewd moans he rams his cock into it fascinated by your body fitting more and more of his large cock and squeezing so hard around him.

He makes you cum for the second and third time of the day, driving into you with such fervor and precision that scrambles your brain and rattles your bones. Slick drips down your cunt and soaks his lower abdomen as wet sloshing sounds fill the room.

You feel utterly delirious, your gaze dropping to where your bodies are joined, the wide base of his cock splitting you open eliciting another wave of arousal, pushing another horizon of unbridled gratification.

"Look at me " the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat snaps your attention back up. His jawline is tense almost as if it was carved on stone, his lips look swollen and biteable and his eyes are so dark you feel like you're falling, your stomach trembling once more as he thrusts hard.

The golden face of the roaring beast seems to goad your febrile state.

"It is said that if you look too much, its eyes can trap your soul for eternity." the playful warning falls from his lips like honey when he notices you're staring "Tell me, is yours mine already?" his final chuckle earning another pained moan from you.

You can't even fathom how to answer that. You hope he doesn't expect a coherent response because the truth is, you haven't been able to think rationally since you had set foot in this room.

Your walls cling to him and your back arches as you drink every sinful word he keeps bombarding you with. Every taunt, every smile, every chuckle, every hitched breath and moan between you both is vitally consumed as water in the desert.

The grip on your throat tenses, your pulse point deliciously stroked by his fingers, causing your hand to shoot up grasping his wrist as the pressure in your lower belly starts to rise. Your chest touches his muscular one, your knees getting squished between your chests as he drives his cock even deeper inside you.

He keeps pounding into you relentlessly until you feel him throbbing, the muscles in his lower abdomen tensing and you're choking on feverish words, the desire for him to fill you up once again maddening.

"That's it" he praises, his voice pierced by want "Keep begging for my cum. How much do you need it?"

You can't control yourself, the pleas that fall from your lips are intelligible, your voice breaking between moans. It only takes two more thrusts for him to reach his peak, his cock swelling and stretching you impossibly, pumping you full of his cum. As he groans his euphoria, his other hand reaches down to draw circles around your sensitive nub. The crease of the wave starts to fall on you too as he's still spilling generously inside you. The orgasm rips you apart. You come so hard you think your soul leaves your body, the only thing it remains is his name on your lips.

He examines the image before him with voracious yet pleased eyes. Eyes closed, shallow breaths, skin shining with sweat and still stretched around him. You're a fucked senseless mess, just how he liked it.

Thoroughly ruined, a fleeting thought of quiet complaint stuck in your mind: how is it fair that he looks like he hasn't broken a sweat in his entire life when you feel so completely undone, the post-orgasmic haze gripping your mind and body with exhaustion.

He plays with what has leaked out of you, smearing it, making more of a mess and earning a raspy whine from you.

"You look so good beneath me" Namor whispers while leaning forward, nuzzling your nose with his " This might be your new place. Would you like that? To have me holding you down, filling this greedy pussy forever?"

Your wrecked moan is answering enough.

🌊🌊🌊

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed it, it would make my day! ❤️

#namor x reader #namor fanfiction #king namor #namor smut #mysweetpoisonsmasterlist

747 notes · View notes

tobiosmilktea · 5 years ago

Text

she looked like a virtue — kozume kenma

1.9k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: — | pairing: kenma x f! reader

↪︎ in which kozume kenma pines for his neighbor from beyond his bedroom window

okay, so maybe it was a bit creepy to watch someone through their bedroom window, but kenma truly didn’t mean any harm. really, he didn’t. if anything it was just a mere spur in the moment of serendipities that you—the girl who hated closing her blinds because it blocked out the pretty sunlight—was his cure for boredom.

whenever his eyes would burn from staring at the computer too long, or if he was just too burnt out to play anymore video games or even watch tv, his eyes would settle upon your windowsill. often times you were dancing in your room alone to 80s pop music or painting the landscape outside all cause you wanted to. it was enough to ease him into relaxation yet entertaining enough that he never got bored of what you do.

kenma despised how this immediately landed a target on his back if he were to ever get caught. ‘peeping tom’ would forever be hovering over his head if you were to ever notice his stares of admiration from afar. granted, you never really did like closing your blinds despite it’s dangers, but you weren’t dumb either. sometimes kenma would like to think that if he were ever to get caught, you wouldn’t be so blatantly creeped out as you both went to nekoma. besides, you’re well aware that he was your neighbor as well. it was just a matter whether or not you would notice how conviniently placed his mattress is to be in front of his window.

if you were to ever-so-slightly pivot your head by the inch, your eyes would immediately find kenma’s probing irises. perhaps you would scream and close your blinds for the first time ever, or maybe you just wouldn’t care.

maybe you liked the idea of being watched by him.

besides, kenma had his PSP with him just in case your lingering gaze would finally fall upon him and he would at least have some way of looking nonchalant as possible.

he didn’t have any cruel intentions. no perverted antics, no keeping track of secrets, no way of gaining intel for blackmail—it was all just pure fascination for a girl he had always found pretty.

this was something he would never verbalized even if he was paid a million dollars worth of cash. in fact, the only other person who knew about this hobby of his (god, that sounds so creepy, kenma cringed to himself) was kuroo. being his best friend, who else would he be able to tell this habit he knew he couldn’t keep to himself without bursting? he felt a bit guilty if he couldn’t at least tell the person he trusts the most.

“i still think it’s a bit suspect of you to be doing this so often,” kuroo would say whenever he was in kenma’s bedroom, twirling a disk of the game they were supposed to play earlier, but kenma was too caught up in watching your gracefulness hues of choosing which novel to read next.

kenma could only sigh as he forced his gaze to be ripped away from you. “i know. it’s become a habit, i think.”

“what?” the onyx-haired boy mused, “stalking?”

scoffing, kenma strolled to kuroo and took the disk out of his hand before placing it in the gaming console. “i think you mean admiration.”

“you call that admiring?”

“you can admire someone from afar,” kenma defends as the opening noises of Street Fighter emit from the television screen.

he swiftly hands kuroo a controller as they both settle themselves side by side in from of the screen. silence filled the void between the two volleyball players as they spent a good five minutes on the character selection screen. it was mainly kenma who could decide between Vega and Cammy, to which he eventually forced himself to toss a coin to choose.

“i think you should just talk to her,” suggests kuroo out of the blue as the first found starts.

the sounds of smashing buttons and joysticks filled the room as the virtual fight ensued. kenma kept quiet as eventually his efforts to focus on the game slipped, giving victory to kuroo.

kenma placed his controller down as he walked to his bed. plopping himself right onto the mattress, the boy quickly sighs. “i don’t think i can do that.”

furrowing his brows, kuroo stands as he sits beside his best friend. “and why’s that?”

“i think she’d be weirded out by it, honestly.” answered kenma.

“i mean... you don’t have to tell her that you’ve been watching her.”

the setter shook his head, “it doesn’t matter. knowing the fact that we’ve barely interacted in school outside of projects, i think she’d find it strange that someone she barely talks to even likes her.”

a hum of understanding leaves kuroo’s lips as he sighs. “i still think what i said stands. you don’t have to tell her how you feel just yet.”

kenma stares up upon his blank white ceiling, eyes blinking to a nonspecific beat. the sun’s rays shining through his window, his eyes adjusted with the amount of light entering his irises as he peered over to your window. you were sitting at your desk reading. oh how angelic you looked, in all your glory of serene silence. you were the cause of his quickening heart beat, yet you were his calming disposition in a mere juxtaposition.

“y/n has always been really into 80s films,” kuroo starts again as kenma’s gaze never left you. “in a lot of those romcom films, the guy usually throws something at the girl’s window to get her attention. maybe you could start there.”

a beat had passed as kenma considered the plan.

“i don’t think i would have anything to say if i were to do that.” he muttered lazily, “i’d be too stunned.”

how whipped, kuroo thought to himself as he inaudibly chuckles. “just say whatever feels right in the moment.”

“like?”

“flirt with her!”

“that’s not going to end well, kuroo.”

kenma hated how his thoughts were as restless as him. it was nighttime, midnight... maybe, but all he knew was that it was late and he had residual energy he needed to extrude. it wasn’t a form of adrenaline like during volleyball games where nekoma was at the cusp of winning—no, it was something else. his body was well beyond fatigued, but his mind was surging in endless obscurity.

perhaps it started the moment your dim bedroom suddenly lit up by the slightest illumination of your desk lamp. you stay at you desk doing something that kenma couldn’t exactly see as he was laying flat upon his bed. it was as though kuroo’s plan of potentially winning your heart over by actions primarily used in the 80s was causing his heart palpitations.

surely it didn’t help his situation the moment you lifted yourself from your seat and approached your window. kenma felt his heart jump into throat when you fiddled with your window lock and pushed your windows open.

“kenma?” you whispered loudly.

his usual relaxed eyes widened in shock as you continued to call out his name.

“kenma?” you said again. it was like music to his ears knowing that you did in fact know his name (how could you not? he’s literally on the volleyball team). “are you awake?”

as if the setter was paralyzed, he still laid there in absolute surprise. in his mind, his thoughts spiraled into oblivion. coursing through his veins was the possibility of him getting up was a good idea or not, but of course it was a good idea. kenma’s worries about starting a conversation with you was started by you! so why wasn’t he getting up?

hesitance pumped throughout his body as he continued to stare at you. you were waiting for his response, but you weren’t exactly optimistic on him answering. it was way past midnight and no lunatic would even bother waking up just because someone was at their window.

a disappointed sigh escaped your lips as you pursed them. perhaps tonight wasn’t the best idea of asking the setter for a favor that was totally out of his league. yet to both of your surprises, the sound of an unlocking window captured your attention. beneath the moonlight, kenma appears from the dimness of his bedroom with a nervous look on his face.

“y/n,” he almost whispers, “um. what did you want to say?”

your breath hitched at the realization with thousands of monarch butterflies tickling their way through your gut as you roughly swallowed. “i wanted to ask if you wanted to climb on our roofs and talk. it’s a full moon tonight too.”

kenma’s mouth ran agape slightly as he struggled to find the correct words to leave his lips. “i-um—”

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to, kenma.” you swiftly cut in, “you can go to sleep if you wan—”

“no,” the setter answers just as fast, “i’ve always wanted to talk... with you.”

you found his nervous chuckles cute as you two climbed to the roof of your respective houses. tokyo at night seemed utterly serene with the chirping cicadas and the silent streets. granted, you were in the suburbs and a ways away from the actual city.

your gaze lingered upon the moonlight reflecting off the city's skyscrapers far off into the distance, resonating and refracting off the infrastructure's angles until they shined luminous fractals upon your face and dosed in a baby blue hue. tokyo never seemed to rest unlike the near-silent nights in this area. the sight was breathtaking, to say the least, but kenma was looking at you rather than the city.

kenma’s eyes tried wandering elsewhere than you before him, yet he was locked in admiration at the moment of stillness of just you and him.

the spiraling skies above you two almost looked synthetic with lavender-candied hues sprayed amongst the painted heavens. it appeared unreal to the eyes of two teenagers of the busy and crowded streets of tokyo, where every corner you turn would be colored with neon lights. the scattering constellations and stars that playfully hovered above them were something you and kenma never really seen before (properly at least now that they were finally outside).

“you know,” you started, breaking the silence into oblivion, and yet your voice was still soft in the humming midnight breeze. “you’re not as slick as you think you are.”

kenma’s mouth ran dry as he blinked innocently at you. “what do you mean?”

you chuckled slightly, the corners of your lips curling into a smile that instantly filled kenma’s heart with warmth. “it’s always the quiet ones who are the most observant.

the setter gulped. he knew and it was game over for him.

“it’s okay, i don’t mind you looking at me sometimes.” you suddenly confess as kenma’s gaze snaps towards you, “which sounds weird, but it’s whatever.”

“you’re not mad?” he asks gently to which you shake your head.

“honestly, i’m just confused on how you find me so interesting.” you paused, “why?”

“because you look like a virtue.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu fluff #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma imagines #kenma scenario #kenma fluff #hq kenma #kenma au

400 notes · View notes

delicatelyherdreams · 5 years ago

Text

Pragma(tic) 2: He Becomes a Trespasser

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 4402

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 1: Her Morning Takes a Turn

The sun was golden against his skin, shining on the tan color he had come to acquire after so many hours out in the light. It beat down on the flesh, warming it and relaxing him. His arms were folded behind his head as he reclined on the grass. It was soft and cool on his skin; Crete always did have the best grass for lying on. His eyes were closed against the bright light, the rays illuminating his eyelids and highlighting the veins that ran through them. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say he was asleep.

But he wasn’t. The young god was just lounging about, listening in on the conversation that was being held not five feet away from him.

The two voices were of young men, one angry, agitated, and fidgeting, and the other slightly exasperated and amused.

Steve, a naiad, was talking with quick, jerky gestures. He was riled up, clearly upset, but not quite enraged. His fists were balled up tightly, almost as if he wanted to punch something. “...the bastard said I couldn’t do it,” he ranted and raved. “He thinks that because I’m a water spirit, I can’t get jewels like that.”

Sam, a dryad, was watching his friend skeptically. He tended to be the more level-headed of the three, always the mediator to calm Steve’s need to prove himself and Bucky’s somewhat erratic tendencies. He was the one to stop the two before they got themselves killed. “Steve,” he started in an attempt to reason, “it’s not worth your time. So what if you can’t get a ruby to prove him wrong? You’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Steve asked with scalding agitation in his voice. “Like guarding Bucky?”

The young god’s eyes opened at the sound of his nickname and he sat up to look over at the two.

“No offense Buck, but really, you can protect yourself most of the time.” Steve turned back to Sam, his gaze hardening once more. “I want to do more than just be a bodyguard.”

“Like what? Like getting a ruby to prove some stupid nereid wrong?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky’s eyes danced with amusement, catching the sunlight up above and shining. He was always finding humor in his friend’s need to prove himself. Steve has always wanted to be the bigger man, be the one who’s worthy, be the one who can be more than he is. Ever since they were little, when Steve was small and scrawny, he’d been taking on dangerous and daring exploits, fights, and anything else he could get his hands on to prove himself. And even now that Steve was an adult with body mass, muscle, and strength to rival the gods, nothing had changed.

Steve frowned as he began to plot. “Now where can I find a ruby?”

“At a mortal jewelry store, probably,” Sam quipped. “But you know we’re not allowed to go there. Winnifred would have our heads. Besides, we don’t have any money to buy them.”

Steve’s lips turned down in a pout. “Dammit.” He scrunched up his face as he thought. “There’s gotta be some other place we can find them.”

“I’ve heard they’re usually in caves,” Bucky chimed in.

“Caves…” Steve repeated when suddenly his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” His whole body turned to Bucky, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his body straight and ready for action. “There’s a ton of caves down under. And the queen is literally the goddess of wealth. If anyone anywhere were to have a ruby, it’d be down there. Now, Bucky…” His voice quieted and his eyebrows knitted together, silently begging Bucky to do something.

Bucky simply chuckled, knowing full well what his best friend was asking of him. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t be giving me those puppy dog eyes. You know my mom would kill me if I went down there.”

“But Hades is dangerous and you’re a god, man,” Steve moaned. “You can’t die down there, I can. Your mother will never need to know about this. C’mon, do a brother a solid?” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do it, Buck,” Sam piped up. “Your mom will find out some way or another and we’ll all be screwed. Steve doesn’t need to get a ruby to prove himself. He’s just asking for trouble.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be hard to sneak in and grab one small ruby,” Steve whined.

“Or it could be extremely difficult and get Bucky in trouble.”

“He’s in, he grabs a ruby, he’s out. Easy!”

“No! Not easy. He’s gonna—”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll do it. I’ll run down and grab Steve a ruby.”

Both Sam and Steve were shocked. Neither of them thought the young god would actually agree to this crazy plan. But Steve just beamed at him. “You are the freaking best.”

“I know.” Bucky barked a laugh and rose to his feet, the grass wedging in between his bare toes. “But how the Hades am I going to get down there? I don’t think the Underworld is on a map and has a giant sign saying ‘Congratulations, you’ve reached the Underworld.’”

“Well duh.” Steve rolled his eyes and looked around at their surroundings.

They were in a clearing on the island of Crete. It was a quaint little place separated from the mortals and their cities. Sitting at the base of Mount Ida, the clearing was directly below the Dikteon Cave where the Olympian queen had been hidden as a baby. The whole area was coated in her magic, especially that cave, and her magic did some weird things to the rift between worlds.

Steve pointed up at the cave’s mouth. “See that up there?”

Bucky had to squint, but he could see it. “Yeah.”

“When Hades was finishing up the Underworld and securing it, she wasn’t able to close the rift between the Mortal World and the Underworld in that cave. The familiar energy from her sister was too strong and it’s been open ever since. That’s your in and out. It should deposit you right next to a cave if you’re lucky.”

“Please, I was born lucky!” Bucky brushed off his jeans and started walking towards the mountain. “I’ll be back!” he called to his friends before pushing on to find a path up to the cave.

The mortals had tried to pave paths to the cave, but none of them got very far. The residue from Queen Carol’s aura kept them far away from the cave. No mortal could get within a hundred yards of the mouth of the cave. Luckily for Bucky, he was a god.

He marched right up the side of the mountain to the mouth of the cave and stepped inside. He could feel the temperature drop about ten degrees as soon as got an inch inside and the hairs on his arms bristled. A shiver ran down his spine to the tips of his toes, setting an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have been there. He was a god of spring and new life; he had no business being among the dead.

If his mother saw him now, she’d be furious. Winnifred, the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, may have seemed kind and gentle, but she was strict and her wrath was untamable and wild. If she were to be disobeyed, she would guarantee that those that opposed her direct orders would pay for it.

Bucky loved his mother to death, but even he had to admit that she could be way too strict sometimes. She insisted that Bucky always dress properly and in a modest outfit, never permitting him nor his friends to dress in anything less than a pair of nice jeans and a pristine shirt. She required them to have limited access to the Mortal World, stating that they should only go if it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t like them frolicking among the mortals because they were Olympians, and above the humans.

She didn’t have many rules, but she did have one that was absolute: never have any contact with the Underworld or the dead. They were too dangerous for a young god like him.

Bucky couldn’t believe that he was breaking his mother’s most important rule, but at the same time, he was exhilarated. He’d never dared to do something so bold and it was showing. His palms were sweating despite the freezing chill in the air and his heart was racing fast in his chest. He was nervous. He shouldn’t have been there, but it was too late to go back now.

He pushed on, going deeper and deeper into the cave. The air changed around him, growing cold and unforgiving. It was dark and empty and lifeless. He was not in the Mortal World anymore. Bucky took a breath and took a final step, coming out of the cave and entering a chasm.

His breath got stuck in his throat.

He’d heard stories of the Underworld before, he’d heard descriptions of it, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what it actually was.

It was magnificent, regal, and impressive. With towering mountains in the distance on which a large mansion stood on top of, expansive fields of flowers, and hundreds of thousands of people milling about, Bucky was in awe. He couldn’t believe how organized and calm the realm was; he’d always thought that the Underworld would be savage and ugly, but here it was calm and silent.

He could’ve stood there for hours staring at everything around him and taking it all in, but he was on a mission. He had to find the ruby.

He put his head on a swivel, looking from side to side as he searched for a cave. Rubies formed in caves; they had to be there. It wasn’t long before his eyes landed on a single cave carved into the side of a wall, a single river flowing into the mouth of it. Granted, that river was made of fire, but Bucky didn’t think anything of it. He assumed that most rivers in the Underworld had some quirk about them and that this one was that it was on fire.

He slid along the side of the Underworld, getting closer and closer to the cave. He wanted to be in and out before he could be caught. He slipped into the mouth of the cave he saw and turned to face it.

The place was colder than the main part of the Underworld. His hairs were standing on end and he had a dreadful weight sitting in the pit of his stomach. Something was not right about this place. It felt bad; it felt evil.

The young god clenched up on himself, his shoulders rolling in as he attempted to shake the feelings but they refused to disappear. Yet, he pushed on.

It was dark in there, he had to give his eyes some time to adjust to the absence of light. When he could finally see again, he scanned the walls of the cave, his eyes peeled for anything shiny and red. It couldn’t be too hard to find a red jewel, right?

Wrong.

Upon further inspection, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be a single sparkly object in this godforsaken cave. Every rock was bleak and dull, only clothed in greys and blacks. There was absolutely no color in the cave. Bucky was starting to wonder if he’d ever find a ruby here. Maybe they just weren’t in this cave. Maybe he was in the wrong place. But he didn’t have much time to ponder that. The sinking feeling in his gut was growing heavier and heavier with every step he took in. He shouldn’t have been there. There was something massively wrong with that place. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

But it put its finger on him.

Bucky jumped when he felt something thin, hard, and bumpy touch his skin and latch onto his ankle. A scream tore out of his throat as he snapped his head down and kicked wildly.

A hand, skeletal and white, had grabbed him and was holding on for dear life. It didn’t want to let him go and it pulled him closer to the body that was attached to it.

Bucky had been too preoccupied with searching the walls to notice the mass of bodies that were starting to pile up around him. There were dozens, maybe more, of skeletons and spirits crawling their way to him. They almost seemed drawn to the life that oozed from him. And, surely, as soon as they touched him, he could feel them trying to steal the life from him. He felt listless and drained when they touched him, and he could tell that they were nothing but evil.

How had he gotten so far in without noticing? Was he that much of a fool?

Apparently so.

The spirits around him collected around his feet and reached up, clawing onto his pants and dragging him down.

He struggled in their grasps, doing his best to fight them off, but every time he shook one off, two more would take its place. They were slowly overpowering him, pulling him closer to the ground where more of them could absorb the life from him. He could feel the toll they were taking on him, and he hated himself for feeling so weak. He’d never been so powerless before, and it scared him. For the first time in his relatively young life, he was truly afraid.

With his mother around, he’d never had anything to fear. But his mother wasn’t here now and he was alone. And this was the end.

The spirits dragged him down to the cave’s floor and swarmed him, clamoring on top of him to maximize their hold.

“I don’t want to die” was the only thought running through his head, but Bucky simply closed his eyes, too afraid to do anything else, so he could wait it out. It’d be over sooner or later, and he was too tired to do anything to stop them. His energy had been drained. Maybe a nap would be nice and when he’d wake up, this would be all over. Yes… A nap sounded delight—

“Hey!” an angry and powerful voice boomed, the sound filling the cave and drowning out everything else.

The hands-on his body stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been possible, but now Bucky felt their fear instead of his own.

“Get your hands off of him!” the woman yelled again, her voice filled with more power than Bucky could’ve ever imagined hearing.

The spirits obeyed, at once letting go and scurrying away from something—or someone—behind him.

Footsteps slammed against the rock beneath them, growing louder and louder as the mystery woman marched to Bucky. A hand latched onto the collar of Bucky’s shirt and yanked him back away from the spirits. A two-pronged bident took his place, swinging at the spirits menacingly and driving them away. It glowed the faintest blue in the darkness, illuminating the faces of the damned.

The ghosts and skeletons shied away, curling up on themselves and scrambling to get away as they hissed. They were obviously afraid of the person it belonged to.

Said person tightened their grip on Bucky and began to drag him out of the cave, the bident staying in front of him as they aimed to protect him.

Bucky tried to turn his head back to see his savior, but he couldn’t turn his head very far without being stopped by the hand on the back of his neck.

She pulled him out of the cave, past the river of fire, and threw him on the dead grass outside.

He landed flat on his ass with a satisfying “oof”. His hands shot back to catch him before he could fall on his back and he looked down at his body.

His once white shirt was now a dark shade of grey and torn and his jeans were torn nearly to shreds. There were scratches, scrapes, and bruises covering his legs. Little rivers of ichor ran down from the cuts, coating his skin with gold. He looked like a war-torn battlefield. His mother was going to kill him. If those spirits hadn’t finished the job, she sure would. He was dead meat. Steve and Sam better start planning his funer—

“Just what in the Hades were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the same voice from the cave demanded, only this time, she seemed more pissed than powerful. Her voice had lost the booming effect it had previously, but it was still sharp enough to send shivers down his spine.

Slowly Bucky lifted his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of black flats below black pleated pants. Looking further up he saw a black blazer covering a dark grey shirt, and further up still, he saw the face of a woman. She was quite beautiful in the way that something cold and hard like a statue was beautiful. He would’ve admired her features but he was too afraid of, and yet so enchanted by, her eyes. Her eyes, unlike most, weren’t a brown, blue, or green; no, they were red—a bright and fiery shade of scarlet that seemed to glow in the darkness of the Underworld. They held him trapped, hypnotized by the brilliant color.

He felt so small beneath her gaze, even though he was comparatively larger than she was.

She radiated power as she glowered down at him, the bident by her side making her even more intimidating. Her lips curled back in a snarl. “I asked you a question; answer me!”

Bucky flinched and started to stammer out, “I-I...”

She seemed exasperated by his loss of words and bent down to him.

He shied away, afraid that she was going to attack him, but she simply grabbed onto his wrist and pulled. Her skin was shockingly cold against his flesh and he inhaled sharply.

She dragged him to his feet and began to pull him after her as she walked away from the cave. She was beyond angry and that made her scary. The only saving grace was that her bident had seemingly melted into thin air, probably stored in some magical pocket somewhere. She was trembling with rage as she began to rant and rave, her grip never once loosening. “Of all the idiocy I have seen in my life, I have never seen someone as stupid as you. What kind of imbecile walks into the pit willingly? Do you have a death wish? Gods, it is not my fucking job to save daredevils from the edge of the pit.”

Bucky only stared at her, filled with confusion. His mind was racing a million miles an hour and he asked, “The pit?”

“Tartarus, you insolent fool!” she snapped, quickening her pace as she pulled him towards the place he’d come in. How she knew about the exit, Bucky didn’t know, but she continued speaking, “The prison of the worst souls known to man, the titans, and any monster you could dream of. How could you possibly—” She froze in her steps as if it suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t know who Bucky was. Rigidly, she looked over her shoulder, her red eyes glaring at him. “Who are you?”

“M-Me?”

“Yes, you!”

Bucky blanked. Who was he again? He could barely remember under her intense gaze. “I’m, uh… I’m Bu— James. I’m James, god of spring, son of—”

“Demeter,” she spat out, her voice dripping heavily with venom and contempt. “Great. Just fucking great. You’re a new god. And not just a new god, the fucking son of Demeter.” She pinched the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and forefinger and heaved a great sigh.

He stared at her, even more confused than before. “H-Her name is Winnifred,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking.

She rolled her eyes. “Same fucking difference. It’s the same woman.”

“Well, yes, I suppose. But wait! You know my mother?”

"Of course I know your goddamn mother. She hates my guts and I'm not too fond of her either.” The woman squeezed her eyes shut and let her head fall back with an even louder groan. “Gods, she's probably going to think I kidnapped you or something! Do you realize what you being down here means?"

“I—”

“Of course you don’t! How could you? You’re just some young, stupid, idiotic god who thinks he can go anywhere he pleases. Well, news flash, you’re not allowed to roam my domain without my permission. This is not a place for the living, and you’re lucky you escaped with only minor wounds.”

“Your domain?” Bucky furrowed his brows, his steps faltering. “Wait… Then, you’re—”

“Hades,” she confirmed. “But that’s just what the mortals call me. You need not know my name, you only need know that you have to leave. You were never supposed to be here in the first place and you will never get in again.” She dragged him towards the cave he’d entered the Underworld through and yanked him in.

Crossing the threshold, he could feel the immediate change in the air. He could feel life surging back to him as they entered the Mortal World. He could also feel Hades stumble as if the sudden rush of life was startling to her.

She pulled him through the Dikteon Cave and out into the sun at the mouth of the cave. “Where did you come from?” she demanded, her voice low and cold as her hands.

Bucky pointed down towards the clearing where he could just barely make out the figures of Sam and Steve.

She let go of his wrist and grabbed his upper arm instead. “Hold on.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask her what she meant, because she leaped up into the air and off the side of the mountain, pulling him with her. The wind whistled past his ears as they fell, and he had to trap the scream that was rising in his throat.

They landed on the edge of the clearing, the ground trembling beneath them. She released Bucky, throwing him forward a bit before straightening up and glaring at Steve and Sam who had started running over.

With her shoulders rolled back and her body completely in the light, Bucky could now observe her fully. The red had faded from her eyes, revealing a wonderful shade of (e/c) that had red-rimmed around the iris. Her skin was devoid of life and she had deep, dark circles covering the skin beneath her eyes. Bucky hated to admit it, but she almost looked dead. She was unsettling but in a gorgeous, powerful kind of way.

Steve ran over to Bucky’s side, his face panicked. “Buck,” he breathed out, “are you alright? What happened?”

“He went where he had no business going,” Hades answered, her voice agitated and disgruntled. “You two are his watchers, no?”

“U-Um, yes, Ma’am?” Steve responded, thoroughly anxious.

“Then fucking watch him,” she snapped, her voice suddenly growing in volume. “The Underworld is no place for fledgling gods who have no experience in the real world.”

Sam turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with alarm. He probably wanted to say something in their defense, but the only thing he asked was, “Did you get the ruby?”

Bucky could’ve smacked him.

Hades glowered at Sam. “What ruby? Explain yourselves.”

Bucky gulped. “It’s the reason I went down. My friend wanted a ruby and I thought I could find one in the Underworld and I…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, realizing how stupid it was under her incredulous look.

“You mean to tell me you went to fucking Tartarus for a ruby? A single ruby that’s worth hardly anything to a god?”

“...Yes.”

She barked a bitter laugh, doubling over and placing her hands on her knees to steady herself. “I can’t believe this.” She held out her fingers, maintaining a small gap in between her thumb and forefinger, and a single, raw ruby, red as blood and the size of a large pebble, formed out of thin air. “Here. Take your damn ruby.” She chucked it at the ground at Bucky’s feet before narrowing her eyes at him. “You got what you came for, and now you have no reason to return. If I ever, and I mean ever, catch you in my realm again, I will teach you why the mortals call it Hell.” She spared the men one last snarl before taking a step away from them, digging something out of her pocket, and dropping the minuscule item on the ground.

At once, the ground trembled and shook and a hole opened up at her feet. The ground swallowed her, pulling her into the depths before closing up again like nothing ever happened. In her place stood a single flower with an elongated stem and a spike of white blossoms: an Asphodel.

Bucky’s gaze switched between the flower and the ruby until it finally settled on the jewel. Slowly he reached for the ruby and picked it up to examine it. It was heavy in his hand, beautiful and clear. It filtered the light that passed through it and cast odd shapes that mimicked its raw cut in red on his palm. But it wasn’t the ruby itself that mesmerized him, it was the color; the same color of her eyes. Bucky was certain that that shade of red would be burned into his memory for all eternity, and as he stood there with Sam and Steve fawning over him making sure he was okay and talking about getting him cleaned off and changed into new clothes because he “reeked of death”, he couldn’t help but think of her: Hades, the woman whose name he did not fully know, but whose face had suddenly washed over his mind and infiltrated every nook and cranny of his thoughts. His grip tightened over the ruby and he smiled to himself softly.

Next 3: Her Head Aches

882 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Fuckin’ Teamwork

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes (if you squint) Summary: There's no "i" in "team", kids. A/N: No plot. Just silliness. This GIF is sexual, tho. (sweating) PART 2

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

From the corner of his eye, Bucky sees you absentmindedly put yet another pen cap into your mouth as you sit in the conference room intently listening to Steve’s lecture.

Your left hand rests on a yellow memo pad, right hand scribbling as Captain America drops words like “cooperation”, “teamwork”, and “fucking cooperation” for good measure.

“Question.” Tony cuts in.

Bucky internally huffs. Here we go.

“Not that this isn’t a rousing sermon, Cap,” Stark tilts his head at Steve’s crossed arms, “But I think the teamwork issue isn’t applicable to everyone- so I’d love to leave and get back to my usual routine of genius-ing.”

“That’s not a question, Stark.” Bucky replies, immediately grumbling when Tony flips him the bird. With a grand twirling motion of his wrist, Tony takes a deep bow and turns towards the door. Steve is quicker, sidestepping so that his broad body blocks the exit.

“C’mon Rogers, get that Dorito-shaped back of yours out of my way.”

“Tony. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Fucking cooperation.”

“If he’s cussin’, he must he really be upset,” Sam interjects as he takes a large swig from his bottle. The top is one of those “sports caps”, and the sound of Wilson sucking it squeaks its way deep into Bucky’s head. His skin crawls at the screech. Sam smirks proudly.

On your memo pad is a huge cross-hatched cloud illuminating a surprisingly pleasing block-lettered note: FUCKING COOPERATION. Squiggly rays shoot from every corner underneath each team member’s name. Obviously the ones less inclined to behave on mission are bolder than others. You stick your pen in your mouth as you flip the flimsy page over and regard the men arguing in front of you, fingers drumming on your pad.

“We done here?” You begin to chew on pen and pen cap alike, only decipherable because the corner of your mouth is carefully stretched enough to let words escape.

“No!” Steve calls crossly, swatting away Tony’s mock jabs to his sides, “We are not!”

You tongue the pen cap further into your mouth in annoyance, molars grinding down on the grey plastic. Bucky watches it travel from one side of your cheek to the other as you pull the pen itself out and show Steve your drawing.

“I get the message!” Impatient tapping with the chewed end leaves damp paper on the pad with each pat, pat, pat contact. “Look, FUCKING COOPERATION. Here’s all of us… mm,” you pause to suck on the inside of your cheek as a sharp canine slips and makes a small cut. When you resume talking, Bucky can see the pink tinge smeared across your teeth and on the tip of your tongue. It unsettles him that you are repeatedly so careless. It isn’t a coincidence that the “Fucking Cooperation” meeting had been called with the four of you.

Bucky thinks he’s going to lose it in this damn glass room, surrounded by Tony (a self-important asshole), Wilson (who seems to live to annoy him), and you (an idiot, hand to God).

Once, you swore you only strayed because there was a room full of rodents and that you really had to free them before the building exploded. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that they were likely all rabid and that he was dispatched to pick them off on their way out. Another time you literally walked into a den of feral cats.

You had the worst habit of putting all sorts of devices in your mouth and your outfit was never complete without a cut lip. During an infiltration of a HYDRA base in St. Petersburg, you “found some candy” and Bucky nearly had an aneurism sticking his hand into your mouth and wrestling with you to pull out two goddamn cyanide capsules before you killed yourself.

Bucky feels the vein in his head about to pop as Wilson spews yet another remark, “My question is what am I doing here because Cap- as you know, I live and breathe synergy.”

“Oh, shut your shit.” Bucky snaps.

“Barnes, language!” Tony replies without missing a beat.

Wilson carries on, “Look man, just because you and Redwing don’t get along doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

“Hey! You fuckin’ men- I was talking earlier!” You slump down in the chair, throwing your hands in the air, the memo pad flapping about. The pen goes back in your mouth along with the pen cap, which is completely mangled at this point. “I cooperate, okay? I always follow direc--”

“If by following directions you mean wandering into a forest, then yes, you do!” Steve corrects.

Everyone in the room snorts in agreeance, which only makes you more indignant.

“What! That only happened like three ti- HEY DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” And you’re up again, hands slamming onto the wooden table, memo pad discarded completely on the floor. Steve is bracing himself for your tirade when suddenly you freeze like a statue. The clatter of the pen draws everyone’s eyes on the table as a sputter comes from your throat.

“What was that?” Tony asks flippantly. Your eyes are scanning the room wildly, one hand pounding on the table, the other clutching your neck.

Bucky is launching himself across the table before he can realize it as he throws his weight over his palm. He’s behind you in an instant with his flesh fist clenched tight inside of his metal hand, careful to not break all your ribs as he pulls in and up. All you can hear is the metal plates shifting and clicking along with the ringing in your ears. Your teammates are moving all around in blurs and far-off, muffled shouts.

A sickening hurk follows every pull as your body coils itself around his hands. He does it two more times before the chewed-up pen cap launches itself out of your throat and flies across the table. Steve catches it easily with an almost proud glance until he realizes the prize he’s holding onto is completely soaked with saliva. Then he drops it with a disdainful grimace.

Sam throws his bottle, which Tony snatches from the air and unplugs the top. Before you can catch your breath, he’s squirting a tchhhtchtch stream of Powerade down your throat, immediately burning a trail into your stomach. Once more, you slump around Bucky’s hands and groan deeply as he slides onto the floor on his legs.

“Fuh.. Uh... goddamn... that was..” you force out a single cough and grab onto Bucky’s arms as you try desperately to anchor yourself to reality. The exasperated huff from behind you is one you’ve heard many times during your life, and it surprisingly does help a lot in this moment.

If anything could remind you that you were alive and well, it was Bucky’s absolute disappointment in your existence.

You take a shuddering breath, “That... was fucking teamwork, gang.”

The sigh is replaced by a loud groan as Bucky pushes you off his lap with an unceremonious plop.

#bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #humor #pwp #reader insert

2K notes · View notes

sam-writes · 6 years ago

Text

A Break in the Clouds

God!Ben Hardy au

Word count: 1880

Note: this took too long to put out but here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

Taglist: @angrylizardjacket @nedmjpeter @siriuslymooned @rogerandhishair @fastidious-and-a-mess @rogerinatrash @rogerlad @benhrdy @sweet-ladyy @the-killer-queenie

______________________________________

Hanging high in the clear sky, the moon shone brightly, as if in aware of what had just happened. The world had been shaken with a resounding boom as the burning object fell through the stratosphere colliding with the earth. A long tail of flame and smoke trailed behind the object as it fell faster and faster.

A figure lay curled up in a small crater. Smoke surrounding the figure drifted lazily into the sky. Slowly he began to shift, rolling onto his back with tremendous effort. Half closed piercing green eyes watched the smoke rise.

Embers fell to the ground, there was a hole in the canopy above him.

Groaning loudly he moved into a sitting position. Hissing through his teeth, the pain began to hit him. Bloodied and bruised he managed to raise himself to his feet and stagger out of the crater.

Jaime Miller had been driving nearby when they saw the ball of flame plummet from the heavens. Doing something very illegal, they sped up to get closer. Turning off of the highway it only took them a moment before they were on a dirt road heading into a now abandoned and overgrown camp ground. The moment they stepped out of the car a wave of heat hit them. It was very cold and they were wearing multiple layers of clothing, so the wave of heat was very interesting, further compelling them to investigate. They had arrived surprisingly close to the crater considering here were acres and acres of forest all around them. Grabbing the flashlight from the glove box, Jaime began their trek into the forest.

Walking directly towards a meteorite or whatever had just fallen through the atmosphere wasn't the smartest or safest idea, but curiosity ran through their veins.

He had walked from the crater, managing to stumble through the forest leaning on any tree he could get his hands on. He had made it to a break in the canopy. The sky was a masterpiece, stippled with stars and swirling with colour.

He watched the stars sombrely. Breathing heavily, lips parted slightly, hair a mess.

"I shouldn't be here... I shouldn't be- why am I here..."

Coming to a spot in the forest where the moonlight streamed through the leaves, Jaime saw a man. He was leaning quite heavily against a tree and he was... naked?

They took a moment to make sure they weren't hallucinating before taking a cautious step forward.

"Sir? Are you alright sir?" They began, trying to show they weren't of any threat.

The man turned quickly, facing them. Their eyes trailed down his body, checking him out, but not in the good way.

His body was covered in gashes and burns. Fresh bruising tinting his skin a light purple. Old scars ran the length of his torso, old and fading, yet still prominent. Jaime's eyes met the man's and they locked eye contact. The moonlight glinted off of the tears welling up in his eyes. He looked away, back up at the stars. He was visibly shaking and his chest rose and fell faster with every passing moment. He looked to be in quite a lot of pain, but the way he held himself told them that the pain was the least of his problems.

"Sir? What's your name sir?" They asked, voice getting louder.

He didn't even spare you a glance before answering. "Benjamin..."

Nodding slowly, Jaime pressed on, "Benjamin. Are you alright? You should go to a hospital."

His gaze slowly and hesitantly lowered from the sky to the ground, he dug his toes into the dirt below him. Releasing a shaky breath he looked back at Jaime almost threatening.

"I don't need your help." He tried to make himself sound confident but to no avail as his voice shook as he spoke.

Jaime took another cautious step forward, now only meters away from Benjamin. They tilted their head in an attempt to catch his gaze again. "I'll take you to the hospital. You just have to come with me." They spoke slowly and calmly, trying to convey that this was a safe situation and an offer with good intentions.

Benjamin watched them, the cogs in his mind turning slowly. His brow furrowed, confusion seeping into his features. "Why? Why help me?"

Jaime didn't miss a beat before replying, "You're hurt and you seem confused, I want to help you because you need it." They raised an eyebrow at him, as if asking if that was reason enough.

He tilted his head up, judging them silently. A tense moment passed before he spoke again.

"I'll let you help, but no hospital. I don't want to have to interact with more people."

Jaime breathed out a laugh "fair enough! Here take this." They then proceeded to strip off the top layer of clothing they were wearing, an oversized black hoodie with a small illustration of Saturn positioned where the breast pocket would be.

Slowly he took it and pulled it over his head. It was still a bit too big for him but that worked well as it covered his crotch.

It took a while to get Benjamin back to the car, he refused to let Jaime help him. He leant of every tree in his path and constantly groaned and hissed in pain.

Finally they got Benjamin to the car and he was in the passenger seat. "I'll take you back to my apartment, I have a first aid kit there, and a shower cause you seem to need one, no offence." They had to admit it was quite odd to just bring a stranger home, but it's not like they hadn't done that before under different circumstances.

Benjamin didn't reply but kept his gaze trained out the window. Jaime put the car in reverse and backed out of the overgrown parking spot.

The drive was quiet and uncomfortable. The air between them was thick and tense. No words were spoken but Jaime could almost feel how scared and confused Benjamin was.

They were lucky it was getting closer and closer to midnight when they arrived at the apartment. Jaime ushered Benjamin into the room as quickly as he could move, considering that he had no pants on. That would be a very awkward conversation to have with their neighbours.

Once inside they took him straight to the shower, turning it on cold and then backing out of the room to allow him to have a moment to himself.

The cold water was a gift from the gods. It ran down his body and over the burns, soothing the heat and sting. It washed away the dirt and grime that had been stuck to him from the fall. He wouldn't be fully clean but it helped. He ran his fingers through his hair. Feeling the water run over his face comforted him. He scrubbed his scalp with his fingers for a moment before leaning up against the wall and allowing the water to wash away his worries, even if only for a minute.

Jaime has set a pair of grey sweat pants on the bathroom sink for him to get changed into once he was done. When he emerged from the shower his hair was still dripping and he was shirtless, covered in clean cuts and bruises. Thankfully nothing was still bleeding and it only seemed minor.

Jaime patted the kitchen counter, "Come sit on here, the kitchen has the best lighting." Benjamin followed their instructions sheepishly, moving to the bench. He jumped onto it and allowed Jaime to examine him.

An overhead light was on above them, casting down a yellow glow, illuminating his hair into a halo of curly locks. They trailed their fingers lightly down the main scar. It ran from his right shoulder down to his left hip, meandering across his body. Slowly Jaime began to clean and dress the gashes and cuts. Once they were done, Benjamin was covered in bandaids and plasters. It was a look. Moving backward a bit, Jaime scanned his body for any missed cuts, that's when they noticed that Benjamin had been silent and watching them the entire time. Green eyes locked onto their face, observing their every move, every mannerism.

This dissolved into a moment of eye contact, neither friendly nor threatening; neutral observation of one another. No words were spoken once again, so Jaime began to pack up the first aid kit and moved to put it away. They threw their hoodie at him again, which he caught smoothly.

Jaime hadn't planned on letting him stay the night, really they hadn't. It just sort of happened. Waking up to him in the apartment and having to jog their memory of the previous night was a shock to the brain. They realised that in their tired state they hadn't even asked if he had seen the meteorite or what had happened to him, they had just jumped straight into helping him. Jaime had walked into the kitchen to see him sitting on the window sill, looking down at the world below. He was still covered in plasters and you could tell he was still obviously in pain. Yawning, they went to make a morning coffee, running their fingers through their hair, attempting to unknot it in the slightest.

Pulling a cereal box from the shelf, Jaime glanced over to Benjamin before asking if he wanted anything.

Benjamin made a noise that somehow meant no, Jaime poured themself a bowl of cereal and walked over to the bench, leaning against it.

"So... who are you exactly?" Jaime decided to just get it out of the way and ask.

"Benjamin, God of Spring." He muttered, Jaime had to strain their hearing to catch it.

"Mmm, course you are. Do you want anything? I could give you a lift back to your place?"

At that Benjamin rose his gaze to the blue sky above. Clouds swirled and twisted, obstructing the sun rays and causing patterns to appear on the ground. "No. You can't. You're a mortal and you have no way to help me let alone should want to."

"Alright, geez, just trying to help." Jaime was quite confused about the entire interaction with Benjamin. Unsure if they were to take any of this literally or as a outrageous metaphor for something. They settled on the latter and continued to eat their cereal. Benjamin glances at Jaime, who caught his gaze. His eyes looked apologetic but since they held eye contact, nothing was said and his gaze returned to the street below. He clenched his jaw awkwardly, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees.

Jaime didn’t know what situation they had gotten themself into. They were unaware of how complicated the whole situation was. They had a big storm coming for them.

Benjamin was stubborn to accept help and look into humanity as individuals and now a whole that had caused destruction. He was hesitant to even try after what he had been told in heaven.

They are both in awkward situations and are going to have to face their unknown differences and sort out the mess they had began between heaven and earth.

#sam writes #God!Ben #Benjamin #Jaime Miller #ben hardy #borhap #could be better but its out so theres that!

138 notes · View notes

papa-rhys · 6 years ago

Text

Risky Business (Jacob Seed X Reader)

Note: I’ve had this in my folder for so long and I’m finally getting around to posting it. Have some hot, secret, forbidden sex in Joseph’s church because honestly why wouldn’t you want that? Enjoy!

Find more of my stuff here!

You stand up from your seat in the pews and smooth out your scruffy beige sweater. The sermon is over and everyone is following Joseph out of the church, including John and Faith. You move against the crowd, heading for the front of the church where Jacob messes around with the back of one of the TVs. The screen had started blinking during the sermon, and Jacob was always the one tasked with fixing things that broke. You found it ironic, really; him being in charge of fixing broken things when he himself was so… well… broken.

You reach the front of the church and turn to the crowd, catching sight of the last few people trickling out as they close the doors behind them, leaving just you and Jacob alone in the church.

The church is dark and stuffy, and particles of dust float by, illuminated by the single ray of sunlight that floods in through the window at the front of the church, behind the pulpit. You’d always suspected that that ray of light, in contrast with the darkness of the rest of the room, was only there to make The Father look more saintly.

You watch Jacob fiddle with the cords at the back of the TV for a few moments. He’s tall and strong and oh-so-handsome. You lose yourself in a daydream very briefly before shaking the thoughts off and clearing your throat. He whips his head around so fast it may have come off if it weren’t secured to his shoulders.

“Oh,” he says, the surprise falling away from his face as he looks over his shoulder at you. “I thought everyone’d gone.”

You should’ve known better than to creep up on a military veteran; especially one as highly-strung as Jacob. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” you tell him. Your voice is meek and cracks as you speak.

“Ah, that’s alright,” he assures you. “Do me a favour? There’s a toolbox under that table over there. Fetch it over, would ya?”

You move over to where Jacob points and pull out a rusty toolbox from underneath a dusty old table. You haul it over to where Jacob stands and put it down at his feet.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” you say, holding your hands behind your back.

“Oh yeah?” Jacob asks, taking a screwdriver out of the toolbox and holding it in his mouth while he pulls the cord out of the TV. “And what’s that?”

“Well, I know you’re training people – soldiers – and I wanted to know if you have any spaces left.”

Jacob stops what he’s doing at looks at you. He has a look of mild disbelief that you’ve seen before from other members of the church after announcing the same thing to them.

“You wanna join my ranks? You?”

“Yes, me.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetheart, but I don’t think you’d fit in much with my guys.”

You fold your arms across your chest and frown at him. “I may be quiet, but I’m a damn good fighter,” you tell him.

He doesn’t respond; doesn’t even look at you. He just keeps twisting the screwdriver in silence, as if you hadn’t spoken. In a moment of frustration, you reach out and pull at Jacob’s arm, turning him to face you. The screwdriver falls from his hand and hits the floor with a clatter and Jacob looks down at you with a look of anger and shock mixing together on his face. If there’s one thing Jacob Seed did not like, it’s being touched. Church members often pushed his buttons, even dared to poke fun at him if they were feeling particularly brave, but everyone knew that you don’t ever touch him.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, adrenalin coursing through your veins. It’s too late to take it back now. If you apologise and go back to being quiet, Jacob will think you’re all bark and no bite, and you’ll never get a place in his army. You have to go all in; show him that you won’t back down in the face of danger.

“I heard you,” Jacob says coldly, turning his body the rest of the way around to fully face you.

“I’m good at taking orders,” you say.

A spark flickers into life behind Jacob’s eyes. “That so?” He walks forward and moves behind you, looking you over. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we? Stand up straight,” he says, lightly slapping the back of his hand against the curve of your back. You do as he says, standing as straight as you can and keeping your eyes fixed on the busted TV in front of you. “Not bad, not bad,” he says, moving his hand up to your shoulder and leaning in to speak into your ear. “Now, howl like a wolf.”

“I- what?” You ask, letting your posture slip and turning your head to look at Jacob.

“You heard me. Howl like a wolf.”

“But-“

“I thought you were good at takin’ orders,” he shrugs.

You look back at the TV, stand up straight again, and inhale deep. “Hawoo-“

Jacob puts his hand across your mouth, silencing you. He chuckles before removing his hand, placing it on your back and guiding you towards the pulpit. “Put your hands here and here,” he says, smacking his hand against both sides of the wooden stand. You do as he says. “Good. Now, bend over and spread your legs apart.”

“What is this for?” You ask, growing suspicious of what exactly he’s asking you to do.

“You want a place among my men? You’re gonna have to earn it,” he says, positioning your hips and stepping into place behind you. He reaches around to your front with both arms and begins unfastening your jeans.

The penny drops. “Jacob!“ you gasp, standing up straight and grabbing his hands.

Jacob shushes you, the air from his lips brushing against the back of your neck. He shakes your hands away from his own.

“This is a sin,” you whisper. “The Father teaches—“

“I don’t give much of a shit what my brother teaches,” Jacob mutters as he yanks your jeans down.

“Jacob, we really shouldn’t—“

“So you don’t want me to fuck you?” He asks, holding onto your hips with both hands.

“I…” You sigh. “Yes, I do, but—”

He lets out a small “heh” before reaching one hand up and brushing your scraggly, unkempt hair to one side, exposing your neck. “Thought so,” he says softly, kissing the back of your neck slowly whilst he unbuttons his jeans. He slides into you with ease, forcing a small gasp from your lips as he pushes all the way in. He grunts at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him, and slowly and steadily begins rocking his hips back and forth.

“Your lips are softer than I thought they’d be,” you breath, leaning back into Jacob as he presses his open mouth to your neck, breathing heavily against your skin.

“You’ve thought about this before, then, huh?”

You blush. “I, uh…” The embarrassment swells in your cheeks, burning hot underneath your flesh. You’d thought about it a lot. More than you’d care to admit to yourself, and far more than you’d admitted to his brother, John, during your confession. John was the only other person, aside from yourself, who knew of your feelings towards Jacob; earning you the sin of Lust, of course.

Jacob moves his lips close to your ear. “Me too,” he whispers.

You reach behind you and grab the edge of his jacket, trying to pull him closer – as if you could possibly get any closer to a person than literally having them inside of you. Jacob gets rougher and rougher until your entire body is being shoved forward with each thrust. He forces you forward and you lean over the pulpit, your hands clutching onto either side of it.

Just as you’re loosening up, muffled voices are heard on the other side of the church door. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but there’s more than one of them and they’re getting louder and louder as they approach the doors. Please God, don’t let them come in. You think. I’d be strung up from one of the bridges across the Henbane if anyone caught us like this.

Momentarily distracted by the voices, Jacob thrusts a little too hard, earning a rather loud whimper from you. He immediately claps his hand across your mouth, stifling any further noise.

The church door cracks open and you instantly drop to your knees and hide behind the pulpit, holding your own hand over your mouth in place of Jacobs.

“Oh… Jacob. We didn’t know anyone was in here.”

“Didn’t you attend The Fathers sermon?” Jacob asks, remaining stood behind the pulpit.

“Uh, no, sir. We had other business today,” the man says.

The adrenaline that pumps through your veins mixes with arousal, and you can’t help yourself. You reach down between your legs and begin touching yourself, looking up at Jacob as you do so. He risks a glance down at you and holds back a smile when he realises what you’re doing.

“Well if you’d bothered to attend the sermon, you’d know that the TV’s on the blink and I’m trying to fix it,” he says, leaning forward against the pulpit with both hands.

“Oh, well we’re sorry we disturbed you, then,” the man says before the door clicks shut again.

Jacob waits a good 15 seconds after the man has left before speaking. “You enjoyin’ yourself down there?” He smirks, looking down at you as you kneel at his feet with 2 of your fingers buried inside yourself. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod, biting your lip.

He reaches down and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, dragging you to your feet. You’re facing him now, and his dick is pressed against your pubic bone. He holds your chin in place with one hand and presses his open lips against yours. You kiss him back, closing your eyes and placing your hands on his chest.

“Now, where were we?” he says, lifting you up in one swift scoop, and balancing you against the pulpit with your legs wrapped around him. You reach down between you both and guide him in, your breath hitching once more.

He doesn’t bother going slow this time; he’s only got one goal in mind and he’s all about getting there as soon as possible, and considering how close you’d just come to having your head on a pike somewhere in Hope County, you were fine with hurrying the process up.

His movements are uneven and violent, and your lower back scrapes against the pulpit. You throw your head back.

“You gonna come for me?” Jacob asks. “You gonna show me how much you wanna be one of my soldiers?”

“Yes, Jacob,” you gasp.

“Jacob? Who’s Jacob?”

“I mean… yes, sir.”

You become lightheaded as you climax, losing all the strength in your body and turning to jelly under Jacob’s grip. He pulls out and gently lowers you down until your feet are firmly on the floor, before pushing you further down onto your knees. He finishes himself off with a grunt, coating your lips with warm fluid that trickles over your bottom lip and down your chin. After taking a few moments to bring himself back into the room, he zips up his fliers and fastens his belt.

He holds out his hand and helps you climb to your feet.

“I guess you did alright,” he says, watching you as you pull up your jeans. “As first interviews go, it was a pretty good one.”

“You’re gonna let me join your ranks?” You ask him, pushing the hair from your face and wiping your mouth and chin on the sleeve of your sweater.

“I’ll think about it. There’s still 2 more stages to the interview process, so we’ll have to see how you do on those. Now, get gone,” he says, picking up the screwdriver and waving it at you. “I got work to be doin’.”

You make it to the church door before you pick up on what he just said.

“There’s 2 more interviews?” You ask.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “And you better believe I’m gonna put you to the test in both of ‘em,” he smirks.

“I’ll look forward to it, sir,” you smile, pushing the door open and stepping out into to the sunlight.

#jacob seed #jacob seed x reader #far cry 5 #my writing #writing: Jacob seed

156 notes · View notes

rickfallsforgravity · 7 years ago

Text

Heart of the Storm

(Older Dipper x Reader // Trigger warnings: violence and some swearing) Foreword: Not a 100% sure I’m happy with this but here it is anyway. The monster is kind of base of Sirens…? Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The morning haze drifted through the trees as I listened to Dipper’s heavy footsteps along the dirt path. Everything was still, stagnant, silent other than us and the sleepy morning mist. I looked towards him, the ragged journal tucked into the crook of his arm, the sunlight breaking through the canopy in rays that turned his hair a brilliant golden. I took a deep breath; the air was so heavily laced with moisture it was almost suffocating. I glanced through the leaves and noticed the clouds gathering, clustering…

“A storms brewing,” I said breaking the silence. Dipper’s head turned slightly, glancing at me, “and it’s a big one. Whatever you’re planning to do you better make it fast.”

A small smile entwined into his lips as he nodded but didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t normal for him to be this quiet. Yeah sure, he was shy and adorably awkward in most social situations however, just like his sister, he was a talker. Especially with close friend. Normally, he would be babbling on about something science related or a new monster he discovered. I felt my heart rate increase a little, anxiety setting in. It just wasn’t like him to be this… quiet.

Suddenly he stopped and opened the journal, flicking through the pages until he found what he was looking for. I twisted myself to face him, to see whether I could guess what he was thinking but his eyes where hidden under his cap, shadowed and dark. I couldn’t read a thing.

“Dipper… what exactly are we out here to do?” I asked cautiously. It was stupid for me to even get worked up like this, I mean this was Dipper! And it wasn’t like this was the first time going on walks with him… But, it was just me and him, deep in the woods, alone…

He had changed over the last year too; grew a lot taller, put on a little muscle, became rather cute- I shook my head vigorously. What was I thinking, I’ve known Dipper for years! Being in a relationship with him would be wrong (no matter how many time Mabel tried to set us up together). It would never be ideal.

Plus, there was no way he liked me back. He’s obsessed with Wendy, always has been…

“You’ll see,” a wry smile on his lips. It was almost like he was mocking me… My anxiety rose like a mountain lion waking from a deep slumber as we started to walk again. I fell silent, trying to tame my heart, coaxing it into submission. Maybe it was the atmosphere. The air heavy with water molecules, so much so that it clung to my skin. It was claustrophobic. It was unbreathable. And it seemed to get worse the deeper we went into the forest but maybe it just my anxiety building and building and building-

Suddenly there was a break in the trees. I gasped, partly from amazement, partly because my lungs were on fire. As we edged into the clearing the mist parted to reveal a lake. Crystalline. Tranquil. So still and undisturbed that it reflected the sky, it’s water shimmering silver. The air here was so dense it was almost like I was drowning. The oxygen deprivation made my head spin and I clasped onto Dipper to steady myself. But it didn’t take away its beauty.

Without the leaf canopy hiding the sun, its light rained down, reflecting off the water dense mist to create fragments of rainbows in every direction I looked. Millions of colours. Everywhere.

“Dipper…” I breathed, my voice hardly audible. I felt his hand slip into mine and I realised that he too was struggling to breath. “What is this place?”

“I found it, once. A few months back. And I thought it was beautiful… I’ve been trying to look for it ever since; almost obsessively. It appears in various parts of the forest before the biggest storm of every month and then complete disappears.” He muttered, “I’ve not told anyone else about this yet, I- I wanted you to be the first one I showed it too.” But as I look out over the lake again… there wasn’t a single breath of life. Not a breath of wind. Not a single minuscule ripple of the water. Not a sound. It was like everything was drowned, dead and wilting; an uneasiness settled into my gut. Everything about this place was… off.

“Dipper… let’s leave” I glanced to the clouds, they had gone a grey so dark they were almost black. This couldn’t be good. I tugged at Dipper’s hand but he only stiffened, unmoving as his eyes locked onto metallic pool. As the dark clouds rolled over the edge of the trees into the clearing, the fragmented colours started to fade, shadowing us in the grim. In the oncoming dark, the perfectly circler lake started to glow. I watched, intrigued, as ripples broke the surface of the mirror and a body started to emerge from the middle of the lake.

Dipper took a step forward, mesmerised, nearing the water’s edge.

Then it started to rain. The storm unfurled, blossoming from a light English drizzle into an Asian monsoon. The droplet so heavy they bruised my skin like hail. The body unfolded into a beautiful lady, her eyes closed, perfect and still. Her skin the colour of death, pale and fragile. Her dark wet hair slicked to her back. Her blue dress clinging to her wet body, the water making it practically transparent, revealing… everything.

But she was beautiful.

Dippers hand slipped from mine, my fumbling fingers unable to grasp any friction with his. He fell onto his knees as if in prayer. Like he was seeing god-

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open and I wanted to scream… but only silence was granted by my terror. Her eyes were abysses of oblivion- for she had no eyes, only a blackness that engulfed where they should have been. No iris, no pupil, no whites of the eyes- only nothingness.

And then she started to sing…

I felt my conscience dance to the hymns. Entrapped by its beauty. My mind was compelled towards her, making me want to throw myself into the lake, to give her all of me. My mind flooded for the sudden desire to become one with her. Suddenly, I was just another string on her harp of souls, just waiting for her to use me and my body for whatever she craved. The whole universe now revolved around her, silent and waiting.

I staggered lake wards, squinting through the pelting rain. Water stinging my eyes, everything turning into blurry visions. Suddenly, my foot caught on a rock and I tumbled forward, catching myself moments away from plunging head first into the dark murky depths of the lake. I froze, staring into the water, my face inches away from its surface.

Thousands of black eyes stared up at me, their faces ugly and deformed, contorted into looks of hunger and desire. Their skin wrinkled and grey. Their hair sparse and thinning.

And as they saw me they started to surge towards me, claws outstretched, yellow with age. Their mouths opened in anguish, showing rotting fangs. I threw myself backwards in a mad panic. This was a trap! All of it! I looked towards the maiden and what I saw horrified me. She was the worst of them all once the facade had fallen, spell broken. She was a rotting carcass, her skin grey and decaying, broken by maggots that had stripped the flesh to the bone. Her mouth agape, no longer singing but screaming…

Animals of all sorts were now emerging from the bushes, completely enraptured by the spell. Like zombies they stepped into the water, their eyes never leaving the maiden. Violently, they were dragged into the depths of the lake. The army of monstrosities tearing the poor things apart. Claws ripping apart flesh and fur. Teeth sinking into helpless throats. The blood of the deer, squirrels and foxes tainting the pure lake, the horror living on as the animals thrashed, calling and squealing as they were literally torn apart alive, the fear glinting in their eyes as the witchcraft fractured all too late.

Everything just a blur of red and silver; screaming bodies thrashing, drowning, dying in front of me. The silence before the storm now long gone as I found myself caught in its craze, the rain crashing down so loud, so brutal- this was the epicentre. This was what lurked at the heart of the storm…

Suddenly I remembered Dipper and my eyes darted franticly. Momentary relief flooding through my veins as he was still on the grass. But I fell back into terror’s hold as I remembered that he was still trapped in the magic-

With eyes still glued to the woman, he carelessly casted the journal aside and started to strip, slowly pulling off his hoodie. He was falling for it! I needed to pull him out of the enchantment, I needed to find a way to bring his mind back into reality-

He tugged off his shirt, revealing his bare chest, his skin illuminating in the darkness. He stood up, moments away from meeting the water…

I lunged at him, pulling him onto the grass, sending us both tumbling away from the lake. I straddled him, my weight pinning him down as he squirmed underneath me. His pupils still dilated; searching for her, the maiden of the lake. He should have snapped out of it by now, why did he-

An abrupt snarl escaped his lips, the enchantment turning him into an animal, a wild thing, making him mad with desire. His nails dug into my skin, drawing blood as he tried to get me off him.

“Dipper…” I whimpered, struggling to keep hold of his slippery body. Why was their effect so strong on him? Why didn’t he just snap out of it when he broke eye contact like I did?

Suddenly, an outburst of shock escaped my lungs as a white-hot throbbing bloomed across my face. I was violently thrown to the side as Dipper’s fist connected with my cheekbone, the blood rushing to my face as it already started to swell red. My hand gingerly lingered over my cheek, the initial shock subsiding as the realisation hit home… Dipper had never hit me before.

As quick as lighting, he was on his feet again. My existence completely erased from his mind as he solely concentrated on her, stumbling forward, slipping in the mud, muttering something under his breath. He was blinded by his craving for her, who was in his mind was more beautiful than I ever could be… it made my stomach twist in jealousy. It hurt to see him like this…

Gritting my teeth, I staggered into a standing position. Hurt turned into hatred faster than a flutter of butterfly wings, igniting a fire within me that I didn’t realise I had. I advanced towards him, every scrape of my bones sparking new anger, new envy, new loathing. This was going to stop. NOW.

My hand clawed his shoulder as I spun him around to face me. His feral eyes darkened with insanity, his body preparing for a fight he knew he was going to win. A fight that would leave one of us dead. Preparing to end me. I growled, returning the hostility, returning the aggression- Then I did something that neither of us expected…

I kissed him.

I felt him stiffen with shock as my lips met his. He was soft, gentle, a scared animal lost within layers of incantations created by evil. I wrapped my arms around his torso, his skin electric against mine-

Then I felt him kiss me back.

His hands caressing my waist as he pulled me into him, deepening the kiss. The fire within me exploded with passion, taking over whatever sense I had. All dangers forgotten as we were lost in the heat of our bodies in union. My finger entwined into his wet, curly, locks of hair; never letting go, never stopping, never going to let him slip through my fingers like that again…

We finally pulled away, our lungs screaming for oxygen. Our pants releasing wisps of steam into the atmosphere. I glanced around us, noticing the stillness that had again overcome the forest, only fragmented by the rusting leaves in the wind. The rain had stopped…

“(Y-y/n),” Dipper stammered, his eyes large and curious, his fringe pulled back to reveal his birthmark. He was back to his normal self, good old dipping sauce. I brought a finger to his lips, hushing him gently as my own lips went to rested on his collarbone. I looked past him, into the clearing and saw that the lake was gone… like it never existed. Just grass and undergrowth.

I sighed, relieved and finally let Dipper go, laughing when I saw how ridiculous we looked. Dipper’s clothes scattered on the floor, both of us covered in bruises, dirt and scratches, soaked in rain.

“Ford is going to throw a hissy fit when he sees us like this,” My laugh echoing through the trees, a deep blush blossoming on his cheeks as he looked around. I could just imagine it: Ford’s deep, steady, logical voice telling Dipper that we ‘were not kids children anymore’ and that we really should not go fooling about in the forest alone. Especially not during a storm. Stan would be standing behind him, adding on that he was a young man once and knew what it was like. When asked if anything did happen, Dipper would give everything away with a stuttered denial and the blood rushing to his cheeks. Mabel would then lose it; squealing ‘I KNEW IT’ before running off screaming ‘OTP’ or ‘Omgomgomgomg’. Ford would come to the conclusion that we were into some really kinky shit, judging by the state of ourselves, and Stan would pretend to be disappointed but secretly wink at Dipper, letting him know that he was totally onboard with the whole situation…

And I would get up from where every I was sitting, walk up to Dipper as I take his hand and plant a deep sensual kiss on his throat. Then continue in a flirty tone, ‘I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be waiting for you so don’t be too long…’ before winking at him and walking off. Probably escalating the situation by 1000% to then leave him to deal with the aftermath.

I grinned and turned to Dipper who had finished putting his soggy clothes back on. I cocked my head to one side and gave my most innocent smile.

Today was going to be interesting.

Written by M.S.T

664 notes · View notes

thelostsmiles · 7 years ago

Text

Chris/10 would recommend ★★★★★

It was riveting, witty, and passionate.

I highly recommend reading “Gimme Shelter” by @sincewhendoyoucallme-john

However, if it’s late and you have to go to bed soon because you have work, school or any other important thing tomorrow, still read it but know that you will not get the amount of hours you’re accustomed to. I guarantee you will not be able to put it down.

*spoilers*

From the opening line of “the love affair began with salt” comes one of the most memorable Johnlock stories I’ve encountered. It’s a surfing adventure that takes place in the 70s on the beaches of California and Hawaii. Right away, I could feel the warm sands beneath my feet and the sticky ocean breeze on my face.

I’m a fan of The Rolling Stones but “Gimme Shelter” introduced me to songs that I hadn’t heard before. The ones I was familiar with, I now hear them with different more vibrant colours. That’s one thing I really appreciated. The music. I love that the author included a song at the beginning of each chapter. It placed me in the right mood and setting for what was to come. Either by lyrics or melody, each song coordinated very well with the scenes. But just as they mention, if there is only one song you hear throughout, the title song is it. I’d personally include “Time Is On My Side”, “Paint It Black”, “Moonlight Mile”, “Miss You”, and “Wild Horses”. I’m listening to the playlist as I write this and it swells my heart with happiness *thinks about them standing on that cliff in the summer of 1977* :’)

The writing is brilliant. It’s very eloquent and enthralling. They developed Scotty and Johnny into fully formed beings that without a doubt became Sherlock and John in an alternate universe. It had the right amount of description to where I felt like I was there witnessing these two falling in love. I’m not exaggerating. At one point, I picked up my phone to continue and I was confused for a moment. I wasn’t sure which app to open. Netflix? Hulu? Did I mean to turn on the telly? Am I listening to an album? It was implanted into my retinas remarkably vividly. I was sitting at home in the cold fall sweater weather feeling like I was wearing shorts and a tank top while lounging on a beach towel with aviator sunglasses on as I sipped a coolly frosted beer. I was laying there propped up on my one elbow, smiling wide because Sherlock and John were standing under a palm tree being adorable thinking nobody could see them caressing each other but I could. I almost felt like a creeper.

Now that I have given a decent review, here are some of the informal, inappropriate and honest reactions I had while reading.

Sleep? What is that? It’s a little over 159k words. Not enough. No wonder my eyes burn but it’s worth it. It feels like they’re about to melt out of my sockets. To be fair, it could easily also be because of the tears I’ve shed due to how beautiful this is. “I can’t quit you, baby. But I’m gonna have to put you down for a while.” Me towards this art because this is like air. I need more of this ultra high purity grade oxygen.

It’s romantic, erotic, sensual and exciting and I’m not even referring to the smut, albeit that is also incredible. Like the sex they had the morning of their wedding day and how John saw Sherlock looking down at him. One word: soft. The tenderness of the whole story is captivating. It’s giving me 1976% good vibes.

Why would you make Greg this way? It’s intense and I approve. Greg is that best friend anybody would be lucky to have.

Get Off My Cloud. “Obviously.” And there’s the Sherlock Holmes we all know. Scotty wearing these aviator glasses is something else. This gorgeous bastard knows he’s sexy and he knows in this moment Johnny’s mouth is dry. Damn. What a treat to have these two meet and not exactly hit it off well because, yes, the drama. The anticipation is killing me. I’m about to wipe out head first into the 70s. I don’t want to be saved, thankyouverymuch.

I Just Want To See His Face. I think we all can appreciate his solider kink. What a tender child. Lord, I want for this to keep going. It’s so good. But omg noooo, my heart is breaking. I want to crawl in to hold young Scotty in my arms. How dare they do that to his surfboard? I’m mad as hell.

Street Fighting Man. The great Scotty Holmes wiped out. Ahuh. Sure, Jan. But was there ever any other option? Not when he wants to look into those deep blue eyes again. “Stay the hell away from me!” Oh, Johnny. You have no idea how big of a lie this is.

Under My Thumb. Wow. Scotty really dressed up all fancy to go meet Johnny at his workplace just to return the bullet casing. He would. “Nobody calls me John.” Well, this gorgeous man just did. Let hiiiim (I feel like this is a good nod to your name @sincewhendoyoucallme-john ). Yes, Johnny. Stare into Scotty’s lovely eyes, letting your skin prickle underneath. Train with this beauty. He will show you all there is to know. You two will become pros and live ridiculously happy lives together :))

Time Waits For No One. Johnny talking about the war with Scotty, saying things he’s never said to anyone else is soothing. A bond is forming. Woah, woah. Hold up. That post beach workout shower scene?! What the hell is this?? I am gasping in wonder. It is like a bomb waiting to drop and I’m over here craving it. It was like a slap to the face when those dudes barged in. That was a close one. It all felt illegal. Hot but illegal. Bless you for including it. Their “tents” though. Grade A tents.

Miss You. Johnny’s friends really showed up during their last day of surfing together. Ok but this tension between them is awkward. He’s jealous of Greg!! Ahhhh. Help him. Johnny and Scotty bickering on that flat rock had me on the edge of my seat. I could hear them yelling and now I’m yelling. Strike me with this kind of discourse anytime. As long as it ends with them happy, I’m all for it. Oh my. That CPR kiss? Never have three letters been quite intoxicating. This is what I needed. Very good. Yes, save Johnny Watson, Scotty. Rip his top open and place your huge hands on his chest. Give him the kiss of life.

Time Is On My Side. I cannot breathe. I am laughing and smiling too hard. My face is going to get stuck if I’m not careful. It feels like there are anchor shaped knots in my stomach. My heart is on fire. My throat is swelling to hold on to the blood pulsating through my veins. “You forced me to breathe again.” Ok, but @sincewhendoyoucallme-john now you’re leaving me without air. He whispered THANK GOD. Same Sherlock. Same. John wanting to wake up before the sun because he needs to see Sherlock is exciting. Sherlock telling John that he wouldn’t let him embarrass himself, telling him that he believes in him is pure. Let them eat poke all day. Automatic coffee machine? Obviously. So Sherlock. I demand this whole scene with them on the cliff and in the water after they jump to be transmitted on all television and radio stations internationally. Send it straight to space and blast it into everyone’s mobile phones because this is what it’s all about. This was so romantic :’) Someone please make this into literal food so that I can consume it as all my meals.

Moonlight Mile. I… Never… Honestly… I just felt this story crawl into the right atrium of my heart and settle deep into the folds of the left ventricle. I have been murdered and resurrected in a matter of one chapter. I changed my mind. This is the purest thing. Their time together like that was deliciously unexpected. Glorious. The way you described it @sincewhendoyoucallme-john You have a gift, my friend. You do. It’s like being able to eat all the tasty desserts in the world without ever getting ill. Like you can’t ever get full so you keep stuffing your face and smiling because it’s so satisfying [insert SNL Emma Stone eating ice cream gif here but in a joyful way].

Paint It Black. I’m going to have to go to the dentist now. You’re giving me a toothache. I’m also screaming because no they didn’t just snog each other behind this shop. Gah. Yes, they did :>

I Can’t Quit You Baby. I’ve never known a pain greater than John having to leave Sherlock to head back to Los Angeles … “leaving Sherlock alone and untouched on the sidewalk, looking like he’d just said goodbye.” Stop it! Stop. Please. I’m despondent and I need medical attention. But he promised and he’s going to keep that promise. I know it because they didn’t just completely devour each other in a sweet embrace crushing their bodies together, bruising their skin and breathing in their very souls for nothing.

Shine A Light. I, too, waited for one hundred and forty seven hours for this moment. That is all.

Dancing With Mr. D. Yes!! You ride that wave, Sherlock. Let the ocean spray massage your back while John’s illuminating smile creates sun rays that shine down on you. Surf like hell, Sherlock Holmes! Now go get your man. “A new tattoo of the memory of John’s touch on his skin.” I’m putting this whole moment in my will to be read aloud.

Heaven. “You coming, captain?” Get your ass out there, John. Your beautiful golden love waits for you. My heart!! I love physics, man. This should be included in every maths course.

Wild Horses. God, I love this so much. I love it with the passion of 1977 burning suns. I will never be the same. It’s like I threw my own bullet casing out into the distance. The dog tags and the piece from Sherlock’s first surfboard is better than any ring. They’re happy. I’m happy. All Sherlock had to say was “John” and we all understood … John… *floats away* I think that, for me, this was the pièce de résistance. It’s what it all came down to. The way you described what each of them means to one another was fresh and true. It was breathtaking. You truly captured their significance to one another. And isn’t that one of the reasons why we seek out fanfic?

Everything about this is mother hugging fantastic. From the lovely moments between John, Greg, and Molly to the memories between their mothers and to the contagious laughter with Johnny and Scotty. I mean Sherlock. No, I mean Scotty. No! Sherlock. How it transitioned from Johnny and Scotty to John and Sherlock is everything. What a gem.

I thought I was going to read a story that lead up to just the Billabong Championship but, boy, was I wrong. I got so much more. It’s like I was expecting to win the lottery but along the way I also “solved world peace and found eternal life all at once.” That line was perfect, by the way. It started on a high note and ended on an even higher one. It will be forever in my brain riding a big wave in Waimea. I’m thisclose to moving to a piece of paradise on the shore of a private beach in Oahu.

Oh my literal God. Sweet Jesus above. This is fantastic!!! It’s one of the best things I’ve read and I want it made into a book. One hardcover copy so I can place it in a special section of my library to treasure it dearly as I would any first edition. And then one paperback that I can take with me everywhere I go. I didn’t know I needed this like the salt in the ocean.

So you see, I love this AU Johnlock story. No offense to the infinite stars above and the green earth but this is one of the greatest things to have been created. I send my thanks to Keith Hartman for not letting John die on that beach. I send my love and appreciation to the sky and the sea for crossing that horizon line to melt into one. Above all, I send many more thanks to the author for putting in the time and energy into this. When you see art, read stories or any other form of work in any fandom and if you experience something powerful, whether it’s as easy as a smile or intense like the strings of your heart being pulled, do not hesitate to let the creator know. Having said that, I appreciate you for your creativity and your dedication. Thank you, thank you, thank you @sincewhendoyoucallme-john This is something I’m holding on to forever *makes a leather-bound manuscript to keep in a first-aid emergency kit*

If you’re looking for something new to read, do yourself a favour and check this one out. I am jealous of everyone who reads it for the first time as I wish I could experience that rush again. Reading this was like tasting the most delicious strawberry milkshake with cream on top while listening to the beautiful sound of a conch shell calling out for the attention of the sky and sea to witness the bonding of two amazing people. I will never look at a jellyfish or a plumeria blossom the same way again *turns this whole thing into audio format so I can listen to this diamond certified song over and over again*

The only way I can come to terms with the fact that it’s over is by letting the tears falls down my face.

Chris/10 would recommend

#can you tell i loved it? :))#I wrote this in an attempt to remember the emotions I experienced while reading it for the first time #gimme shelter #johnlock #I’m going to treasure this always #fic rec #thank god for brilliant fans who give us stories like this #my two cents

184 notes · View notes

kyungpom · 8 years ago

Text

The Midnight Priest

By @alphapuppy1221

Pairing: top!soo/bottom!jongin Genre/AU: smut, Supernatural/Hunchback of Notre Dame (I thought it would be a great idea to listen to Hellfire while writing this, and now Jongin is Esmeralda, lol. Aside from a few scattered references, everything of importance is explained in context) Word Count: 5k (exactly 5k) Rating: NC-17 Warnings: religious themes, slight rimming, some slut shaming Header: The hunchback isn’t the only abomination that lives in Notre Dame.

(Read Here)

The moon manages to shine through the thick clouds, glowing even as rain falls to the earth in sheets. Lightning flashes, illuminating the world for a brief moment, followed by a menacing roll of thunder. Against the harsh winds and blinding rain, the cathedral of Notre Dame stands tall and proud in the center of this part of Paris, its ivory stone standing out against the gray of the world. The statues that stand atop the doors hold a bit of a glow with each strike of lightning, and the toll of the bells is more mighty than the thunder.

Inside, the archdeacon leads the priests through the outer aisles, thurible swinging slowly as they chant in Latin. The rain streaks the windows, painting lines of shadow onto the silver-tinted reflection of the stained glass images. Wisps of smoke rise from the metal censer, carrying with it the sweet musk scent of frankincense and the prayers of the devoted servants of the church. The smoke curls gracefully in the air as it rises, only to disappear once it meets the light of the moon. A thick black shadow replaces it once it vanishes, appearing out of thin air and swirling with an even more exquisite grace as it travels down to the floor, blending in with the shade on the ground.

As soon as the archdeacon and the others leave, the shadow materializes. Wips of shade become flowing black robes as a man emerges, the dusk umbrage moving as he walks. His hair is black and cut short, the sides shaved and the bangs pulled back and away from his forehead. In the center of his white collar in a circular pin of his own design, which he absently touches to make sure it’s still there. His fingertip grazes the runic symbols of protection that’re etched into the rose gold trim, which outlines the first ring of rubies. The red gems themselves were enchanted to constantly channel magic, transferring it directly to his dark essence. Rings of miniature rubies and rose gold alternate twice before giving way to a round cut sunstone, which shines with a light all its own. The sunstone matches his honey amber eyes, which makes him all the more proud he can call this relic his own.

His hands fully emerge from the large billowing sleeves of his robes, nimble fingers procuring a gold chain from thin air, a pocketwatch dangling at the end of it. Stepping into the moonlight, he eyes the engraving on the back of his heirloom, admiring his clan’s symbol. A wyvern is etched into the back, its two legs in the front and outstretched in a permanent defensive stance. Two rubies are imbedded in the gold, representing the wyvern’s eyes and glowing with the flames that linger on its forked tongue. He clicks open the watch and looks at the time, seeing that it’s just before midnight. Perfect timing.

He decides to take his time walking down the center aisle, his feet making no sound against the tilted floor as he makes his way to the alter. He takes in the sight of the space illuminated with soft moonlight, chanting softly in Sanguisese, the ancient language of his kind. While comparable to the mortal languages of Italian and Latin, his native tongue captures something that he hasn’t been able to find on this world; the utmost reverence and devotion to the magic that grants him life.

He doesn’t serve the god this church is built for, but he does know how to pretend. The many decades he’s been trapped on this world have taught him that much. He pays his respects to a different set of deities, ones who’re is higher than any of the mortal creations he’s observed on this world. Ones who’re eternal, and who grant life without fail, despite being literally a world away. The one who provides safety and protection with her shadows, and the one who shines her light through the thick cover of storm clouds outside. It is because of Nocté, and Luna, the night and the moon, that he has life and power.

He kneels down at the altar, looking past the cross and up at the three stained glass windows above it. He closes his eyes and lets the shadows flow around him, surrounding him in a protective embrace as he bows his head and prays. He mutters blessings under his breath, short thanks for life and promises of devotion. He sighs softly as the moon casts her rays onto his relic pin, imbuing the ruby stones with pure magic. He takes in a breath as the magic flows through him, strength flowing through his veins as he slowly exhales. While the moonlight is refreshing, it’s not enough. In order to sustain the dark shadow of his soul, he needs blood. He knows that his hands, which’re pressed together in front of his face, are plagued with an ashen gray undertone. He hasn’t fed in a few nights, but he knows that neither Luna nor Nocté have abandoned him. If the moon shining through the clouds is any indication, tonight will be a good night. It is at times like this he feels that he’s back home, on his own world, with the real Luna to look up to.

“One night, Matre,” He whispers softly, slowly opening his eyes, “One night I will return to you.”

The pounding on the center door makes him turn around with a start. With a burst of speed he dashes over and opens it, looking down a man falls to the floor by his feet. The man’s frantic shouts of “Sanctuary!” are louder than the booming thunder as he scrambles into the cathedral, hiding behind Kyungsoo’s robes. Whatever was chasing the man turns gives up once he enters, and the gallop of horses quickly fades into the distance.

Kyungsoo closes the door and turns around, looking down at the person who has decided to take refuge in Notre Dame. He is tall, tanned skin holding a subtle brilliance in the moonlight. His hair is messy, long brown bangs falling into his eyes. Judging by the brightness of his tattered clothes and the sweet undertone in his dirt-trodden scent, this man is a gypsy, likely escaping the prejudice-laden rule of Judge Frollo. Though Kyungsoo may not be particularly invested in mortal affairs, any victim of Frollo is entitled to safety in his eyes. Besides, gypsies have the best tasting blood.

He’s seen this particular gypsy before, dancing at the Festival of Fools. He can certainly see what has Frollo so worked up. The sensual way he rolled his hips and the rhythmic way he moved his flexible body can drive even the purest of souls mad with desire. Honestly was his scent that truly intrigued Kyungsoo; a sweet musk with just a hint of spice. It intrigued him how a mortal could ever smell so enticing, and often wondered what his blood tasted like. To have him here, in Notre Dame… truly Luna and Nocté are with him tonight.

“Bless you, Father.” The gypsy shyly speaks up, dipping his head in gratitude as he stands. Kyungsoo looks up, now seeing the full extent of his height. If he didn’t recognize his scent, he wouldn’t think this unlucky refugee was the same vixen dancing in the square.

“Think nothing of it,” Kyungsoo tells him, “The least I can do for the children of god is protect them.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before.” The gypsy narrows his eyes against the darkness, trying to get a better look at Kyungsoo, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Father Do,” He tells him, waving a hand towards the aisles. As he does, the chandeliers hanging from the arches between the columns light up, small flames dancing above the pews in place of darkness. The gypsy looks around with wide eyes, and Kyungsoo can feel fear-laden amazement surge through him.

Kyungsoo’s deep voice makes him turn back with a start, “And your name, child?”

“Jongin,” The gypsy replies, absently playing with his fingers in a nervous tic.

Kyungsoo chuckles to himself, “You’re the gypsy dancer Frollo won’t stop raving about. The unholy demon who needs to be sent back to Hell.”

Jongin visibly tenses at this, averting the priest’s gaze and staring at his own bare feet. Sensing his discomfort, Kyungsoo grins to himself and lifts his chin with one finger, looking into his eyes as he says, “You’re no demon. Believe me, I know hellspawn when I see it, and that’s not what you are.”

“Thank you, Father.” The smiles that tugs on Jongin’s lips has Kyungsoo mirroring his grin, though he’s not smiling for the same reason as the mortal. He now has full control of this mortal’s emotions, and can play with them however he pleases.

“I’ve seen you dance before, and must I say you’re quite talented.” As expected, a shy sense of pride wells in Jongin’s chest, almost canceling out his sense of panic.

“T-thank you, Father,” Gaze shifting nervously to the door, Jongin remarks, “W-will it be alright if I stay here for the night? I fear if I leave, they’ll only catch me again.”

Kyungsoo pauses at this, pretending to weigh his options. Really he’s listening for any sign of his assailants, and sure enough he can pick up on the sound of hooves at every possible exit. If Jongin were to leave he wouldn’t stand a chance. Not that Kyungsoo was planning on having him leave at all.

“Of course you may,” He nods, “What type of man would I be if I sent you back out in the rain?”

The flicker of hope in the mortal’s eyes almost makes his heart skip a beat. Really he’s more interested in the life that flashes in his eyes than the emotion behind it. Life that he intends to take to sustain his own existence.

“There is an unused bedroom upstairs with food, water, and a clean bed. You can stay there for the night.” The statement is a formality, far from the truth. There’s no unused bedroom upstairs, only the bell tower, which is currently occupied.

Jongin gets up to head for the stairs on the side, but before he has the chance to confirm the lie, Kyungsoo walks back down the center aisle, singing in his native language. The low baritone timbre of his voice echoes off the walls, full and rich as a choir. He knows that his voice entrances Jongin, that he’s luring the mortal like a siren would on his homeworld. He can hear Jongin walking a few paces behind him, bare feet completely in sync with his own slow footsteps. The priest walks up the small flight of stairs in the center before stopping at the altar and as expected, Jongin halts his steps, chocolate eyes glazed over with wonder.

When Kyungsoo turns around, Jongin’s voice is little more than an absent whisper as he remarks, “What were you singing? I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Something the lord shared with me.” Kyungsoo shrugs, appearing to be vivaciously nonchalant. He was singing about an angel, just not one from this world.

“It’s beautiful.” Jongin steps closer, his feet only stopping once his shins meet the bar in the front of the sanctuary. It doesn’t stop him from moving, and Kyungsoo observes as Jongin’s gaze drops to his heart shaped lips, eyes hooding as he leans in. He stops himself, stuttering once he realizes what he was doing.

“Forgive me Father, I—” He trails off, looking down with shame in his eyes, “I am a sinner.”

“We are all sinners, my child. No sin is greater or lesser than any other in the eyes of our lord.” Kyungsoo replies in a reassuringly casual tone. He knows exactly what Jongin wanted. He wanted to kiss him, and perhaps more if he had the chance. Kyungsoo doesn’t normally make a habit of cavorting with his victims before feeding, but the night is still young, and this mortal’s emotions are as moldable as clay. He might be able to have some fun for a change.

“Something troubles you, my child?” Kyungsoo asks with a tone of faux concern, tilting his head for effect. Jongin doesn’t reply, but the guilt that clouds his face makes it clear that he’s not alright.

“I will never know what ails you if you don’t tell me.” Another lie; Kyungsoo knows exactly what Jongin’s thinking, and exactly why he feels troubled. He wants to hear Jongin say it himself, to feel his resolve break with the newfound silence.

“I…” Jongin clears his throat awkwardly, and after a few long moments he admits, “I lust after men.”

Kyungsoo hums with a nod, pretending to ponder the information. In reality, he could feel the lust building within him as soon as he started singing, and he can feel Jongin’s gaze moving up and down his form as he tries to pinpoint details of what his body looks like apart from his broad shoulders. An unexpected result, as he normally likes to pique the curiosity of mortals with his songs, but lust is good too. Lust makes for a faster pulse and a more satisfying feed. Besides, it seems like such a waste to have this alluring specimen as his next victim, only to drain him dry without experiencing the pleasure he can take from him. Deciding to play with him, Kyungsoo grabs his chin, lips only inches away from Jongin’s, “Is that so?”

Jongin swallows thickly and nods. Kyungsoo can feel guilt spiking with shock, mingling with the excitement of their proximity. This time when he whispers, their lips brush ever so slightly, “And what prompted such lust?”

Jongin all but squeaks and tries to move away, but finds that Kyungsoo’s grip is more than just the hand on his chin. He’s frozen in place from the shins down, as Kyungsoo has commanded shadows to encase his lower legs. “I-I always have, I suppose, b-but I never wanted to act on it…until now.”

Kyungsoo raises a curious brow at this, “And why do you suppose now is different?”

“Because now I…” Jongin sucks in a sharp breath as he looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes, “I’m lusting after you.”

Kyungsoo hums in thought and lets go of his face, but the shadows still keep him immobilized, “Tell me, Jongin, what do you think about me?”

Jongin bites his lip and shudders at the way Kyungsoo says his name, “I think you’re alluring, enchanting even. I’ve never seen anyone like you, and I want—”

He gasps as Kyungsoo grabs his hair and pulls him closer, muttering in a low whisper against his ear, “What do you want me to do to you?”

“I want… Father I cannot say this here.” Jongin furrows his brows in distress and blushes, the rose tinted bronze of his cheeks positively glowing in the candlelight.

Kyungsoo chuckles at his reaction, “Believe me when I say you can tell me anything, my child.”

The gypsy falls silent as lightning strikes again, Kyungsoo’s dark clothing and even darker aura a perfect contrast to the luminescence that fills the space. His breath hitches at the sight, at the power he can see that Kyungsoo commands, and he rests his gaze on Kyungsoo’s lips as he mutters, “I want you to take my clothes off and touch me.”

With a hum, the priest unbuttons Jongin’s semi wet shirt and lets it fall to the floor, running his hands over his toned chest, “Like this?”

“L-lower Father.” Jongin tentatively requests, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo’s hands.

Kyungsoo moves his hands down lower, kneading the flesh of his toned abdomen, “Here?”

Jongin closes his eyes and turns his head, too ashamed to look as he prompts, “A little lower.”

“Ah I see.” He reaches a hand down and palms his half hard cock through the worn linen of his pants, leaning up to capture those plush lips in a kiss. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at him with a teasing smirk as he squeezes his cock, “Here?”

“We cannot do this here Father,” Jongin gasps, weakly trying to push him away as he panics, “Someone will see.”

“No one will enter until sunrise. Besides, the way I see it,” Kyungsoo leans in and kisses along his jawline, “The only way to rid you of your thirst is to quench it.”

This time when he kisses him, he hums as the gypsy eagerly kisses him back, gripping his shoulders almost desperately. “My you’re eager.” Kyungsoo hums between kisses, one hand coming up to grip his hair. He tangles his fingers in Jongin’s dark mocha locks, tugging on his hair. Jongin gasps in response, allowing him to slide his tongue into his mouth.

The gypsy tries to keep up, but Kyungsoo dictates the terms, slowly and almost thoughtfully exploring his mouth. He tastes exactly as he smells; sweet with a hint of spice, and it’s absolutely addictive. He hums as he savors the flavor, running his tongue along the length of Jongin’s own and chuckling at the mortal’s resulting squeal. The sound makes his own cock stir in the loose billow of his robes.

“Are you sure you’ve never acted on these desires before?” Kyungsoo asks, and with a small smile as adds, “You know, it’s a sin to lie.”

“N-No Father, I’ve never even kissed another man before,” Jongin bites his lip before mumbling, “You’re my first.”

Kyungsoo knows he’s lying, but decides to not prod. Instead, he strokes his hair, pushing him down to his knees, “Then let’s make sure you get the most out of this.”

The buttons towards the bottom of his robe become undone, allowing him to free his cock. Jongin looks up at his with wide eyes, desire pooling in his stomach. While it’s not the longest, Kyungsoo’s cock is thick, and he can only imagine how much his lips will have to stretch to accommodate his girth. He’s not sure how it’ll fit, but Jongin knows he definitely wants it in his mouth. He presses his lips to his cock, tongue darting out to lap at the foreskin.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo swears with a sigh, looking down at Jongin, “You want it? You want to suck my dick?”

Jongin shudders at the explicit words and the even more explicit implications, nodding slowly with a hint of uncertainty.

“Then open your mouth,” As if accepting a communion wafer, Jongin opens his mouth, tongue peeking out over his bottom lip. With a smirk, Kyungsoo pulls his head forward, humming as he’s encased by the wet heat if his mouth.

The slick sound of suckling echoes off the cathedral walls as Jongin sucks his cock. Any technique the gypsy has is lost in the fervor of his enthusiasm, which is somehow endearing. To feel the wet suction of his eagerness, to hear his soft moans of pleasure he breaches the back of his throat, to see those big brown eyes silently asking for his approval, is admittedly adorable. He finds himself petting Jongin’s hair, moaning softly at the pleasure of his tongue running along a sensitive vein on the underside. The blush on Jongin’s face intensifies, cheeks burning with the knowledge that he’s being defiled in this holy space.

Kyungsoo grabs him by the chin and pulls him off his cock, feeling sadistic pleasure well in his chest as Jongin whines and tries to chase his cock. With his other hand, he pulls the foreskin back to expose the head. A drop of precum leaks out, hovering just above Jongin’s waiting tongue.

“Want a taste?” He inquires, a slight lilt in his voice from the influx of pleasure. Jongin nods and the priest draws a cross on his tongue with beads of precum. Jongin hums as the bittersweet flavor coats his tongue, swallowing with an appreciative moan.

“You want more?” Kyungsoo prompts, chuckling at Jongin’s frantic nod. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he easily picks him up, holding him by the waist as Jongin instinctively wraps his arms and legs around Kyungsoo. He chuckles softly as he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “Such a greedy little gypsy. Perhaps Frollo was right about you.”

Jongin whines in protest at the statement, hissing as his bare skin meets the cold stone of the altar. Kyungsoo wastes no time and slides three fingers past Jongin’s lips, “Get them nice and wet for me.”

The mortal nods and sucks on his fingers, tongue darting between them to even coat them with spit. Kyungsoo pulls his hand back after a few moments and spreads his legs, easing one fingertip past his rim. Jongin bites his lip and whimpers at the stretch, but he spreads his legs wider and angles his hips to make it easier to slide in. The priest chuckles to himself; this is definitely not his first time with a man.

He slides one finger in and out of his hole, letting his fingertip drag along his sensitive walls. Jongin moans louder and arches his back, bucking his hips as Kyungsoo slides another finger in.

“You like that?” He teases, feeling a fresh wave of shy shame course through Jongin as he continues, “Such a needy little gypsy boy. Want me to fuck you? Right here in front of Mary?”

A bolt of lightning reveals a statue of the Virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus, along with several other saints, standing only a short distance away in the shadows. The subsequent roll of thunder adds to the gravity of what they’re doing, of what Jongin is letting— begging this priest to do to him.

“P-please Father,” He stutters, fingers scrambling to grip Kyungsoo through his silken robes.

“Please what?” Kyungsoo stops much to Jongin’s disappointment. The priest raises a brow as Jongin rolls his hips against his fingers, whimpering needily.

“Please Father, I need you inside me,” Jongin pants on one breath, quickly as if he didn’t want the statues of the saints to hear. He lets out a high pitched whine as he feels something wet and flexible prod at his entrance. The tip of Kyungsoo’s tongue circles his rim in a slow drag, making his toes curl as his back arches off the altar. Kyungsoo hums softly to himself; apparently Jongin taste sweet no matter where his mouth is. He scissors two fingers in and out of Jongin, tongue moving in as his fingers move out to stretch him even wider.

“You want it?” Kyungsoo taunts, now stretching him with three fingers. Jongin squirms and rolls his hips, groaning a touched out “yes~” as he feels Kyungsoo prod at a spot inside him that has him seeing stars.

He’s completely caught off guard when something thick and hot pushes past his rim, stretching him unexpectedly. The mortal throws his head back and cries out in a mixture of pain and exhilaration, feeling Kyungsoo’s thick cock fill him to the brim. Hips slam against the back of his thighs in a languid, heavy rhythm, the slow drag of Kyungsoo’s cock making him keen and tilt his head back.

Kyungsoo skillfully rolls his hips each time he pushes in, intent on drawing more pretty sounds from the gypsy. He watches as Jongin’s back bows sharply, a press of the head of his cock to his sweet spot creating such a beautiful arch. Pretty soon Kyungsoo picks up the pace, gripping his hips tightly as he slams into him. He can’t deny how much he enjoys the tight heat around his cock, but what he enjoys more is Jongin’s quickening heartbeat, the visible stutter of his breath as his chest rises and falls, the way his lips remain parted to let out a string of curse filled praises and wanton moans that’re louder than the roaring thunder outside. He leans down and presses his lips to Jongin’s, tongue moving in and out of his mouth in time with his steady thrusts.

He lets out a low exhale into the mortal’s mouth as he slams against his prostate, smirking as Jongin chokes on a moan and grips his shoulders desperately. His muscular thighs wrap around Kyungsoo’s waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back to pull him in deeper.

“Harder!” Jongin pulls away from the kiss and looks up with wild eyes, any trace of uncertainty completely gone as he begs, “Father, fuck me harder!” The priest obliges and slams into him harder and faster, hitting his sweet spot every time.

He can feel a wave of ecstasy about to overwhelm the mortal beneath him, and he knows his time on this world is almost at an end. With one hand cradling the back of his neck, Kyungsoo wraps his other arm around his waist, pressing against his solid body. He wants to feel the warmth of his body against his cold skin. He wants to revel in his delectable scent. He wants to savor the pulse of life he’s about to claim for himself.

Jongin throws his head back and screams when he cums, and that’s when Kyungsoo has his chance. With a hiss he unsheathes his fangs, sinking his teeth into the flesh of the gypsy’s neck. He growls as Jongin’s scream becomes two pitched and broken, splitting like the strike of lightning that strikes outside, feeling his own pleasure increase ten fold. Tangling his fingers in the victim’s hair, he lets the sweet metallic flavor coat his tongue, throat working to swallow the blood that wells in his mouth. Fuck, Jongin tastes good. He can taste the sarccharine hints of raw desire, and it excites him more than anything that occurred all night.

He groans in time with the next roll of thunder as he feels his skin fill out to become taut flesh, the undertone shifting from lifeless gray to rich gold. His hair brightens to a rich wine shade, the hair on top of his head growing to fall over his eyebrows while the sides remain short. The flames in the chandeliers flicker frantically as he moans loudly at the europhic bliss if his life being restored, hips stuttering as he shoots his load into Jongin.

Even as the mortal’s slumps, arms and legs untangling and falling limp, Kyungsoo holds fast, frantically rutting against him as every nerve in his body practically sings with bliss. He all but leaps onto the altar and he presses his face in deeper, short frenzied moans rumbling in his throat as he fills Jongin to the brim with hot cum. It’s been so long since he’s had a feed this satisfying, and he intends to enjoy it to the fullest. His hands frantically grab at his shoulders, claws unsheathing and digging into his skin and he sucks the life out of him. Pleasure continues to course through him in waves, and he sucks in a new mouthful of blood with each spurt of cum.

He lets out a ragged, languid groan as he feels Jongin twitch under him before finally falling limp in his grasp, shuddering through the last of his feed-induced orgasm. The candlelight snuffs out at the exact moment his blissful high ends, leaving him in moonlight and shadows once again. He pants heavily and pulls back once he’s drained the body dry, languidly licking the last remnants of blood from his plush bottom lip. Even as scarlet blood stains his fangs, his collar remains pristine and white, white as the cum that seeps out of the now lifeless body to trickle onto the floor.

He smirks and lifts the Jongin’s chin with a fingertip, pressing a kiss to his blue-tinted lips, “Your sins are forgiven, my child.”

He sits back on his ankles and runs a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs up and away from his forehead as he ponders how to proceed. He normally doesn’t leave this much of a mess, but it’s been awhile since he last fed, and neither Luna nor Nocté could blame him for getting a bit carried away. Part of him is debating on leaving him here, just like this. He laughs to himself at the image of Frollo’s reaction to discovering Jongin’s body the next morning. He’s certain the old man would drop dead at the sight.

As amusing as the thought is, he can’t just leave a dead mortal on the altar like this, all splayed out like a sacrificial offering. A sight like this will raise questions, which will mean other priests in Notre Dame at night. Sighing, he presses his hand to Jongin’s cheek as he gathers intense heat in his palm, flames shooting from his fingertips and igniting his hair. Keeping the fire contained in a telekinetic grip, Kyungsoo watches as the fire consumes Jongin’s body, smoke rising into the air as his once animated being becomes nothing more than ashes. Once only ashes remain on the altar, he gathers them in his hands, placing them inside the thurible the archdeacon left by the stairs. Now the only thing is hiding the scent.

He places incense inside the thurible with the ashes and lights it with a procured flame, holding the vessel by the chain as he steps off the sanctuary. He swings it at a slow rhythm as he makes his way up and down the aisles, letting the flame inside burn the ashes as well as release the scent of the incense. He twists his hand slightly each time he let’s go, the smoke thickening as he lets the sweet musk of the frankincense cover the scents of blood, lust, and death. Once the last remnants of Jongin disappear from the air, he sharply closes his fist, putting out the fire and placing the thurible back where he found it.

His body becomes dark wisps of shade as he makes his exit, becoming one with the night he serves once more.

27 notes · View notes