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thebunnyslibrary · 2 years ago

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In The Woods Somewhere

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

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

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

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“If my book goes well maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s…. you’re not…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#bunbun's spooptober collection #vampire!bucky #Vampire!Bucky x reader #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #halloween #vampires #darkish!Bucky

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kippykasey · 2 years ago

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Double Trouble

Summary: Who knew a vampire, Freddie Kruger, and Ghost face could have so much fun?

Word Count: 1021

Characters: Sam and Colby and Reader

More spoops from Kippy's Spoopy Saturdays

Halloween parties aren’t normally a thing you normally do. At lease not since you were younger. Now you are dragged along with your friend to not only a party but a block wide event. One house had a haunted ‘barn’ maze set up in the large side lawn. There was a whole garage decked out as a witch hut where the drinks were being stored and handed out. There was one house specifically set up to entertain the teens. A projector was set up playing the horror classics. Lights, music, smoke effects where everywhere. Which is probably how you lost your friend with in the first hour of arriving.

Your hand clutched onto your drink of choice as you slowly walked around trying to find your unaccounted for friend. You admired the different themes and the fancy technical displays. Every time you thought you seen them it just ended up being a stranger. After a while of looking you just gave up and sat on the edge of a stone wall between the projector set up and the road that was packed with people dancing.

Someone dressed in the black gown and hooded mask of Ghostface, calmly leaned against the wall next to you. “Waiting for someone?” The deep voice confirmed that this was most definitely a male.

Your head tilts to look over at him. “Nah I lost my friend already. Not really used to all this.” You gestured to the surrounding area with the hand holding your drink, the liquid swirling around.

“Well we can’t just let you sit on a wall all night like some kind of gargoyle. Colby.” He stands up straight, his arm draping over your shoulders as he holds up his hand.

You shook his hand and introduced yourself before Colby gives you a nudge to get off the wall. You get off your perch and were instantly guided through the crowd and towards the witch hut where you run into a blonde wearing a signature stripped shirt the recognizable burn scar mask tucked under his arm as he got himself a drink. “Sam I adopted a vampire.” Colby jokes making the blonde turn to look over with a smile.

You introduce yourself to Sam and he passes a drink to Colby who stepped away from you to remove his mask. With both of them not wearing a mask you recognized the two from their ghost hunting youtube channel. “I see why you’re wearing the masks.” You comment looking between them. They looked at each other before turning back to you.

The three of you head off to the side where some picnic tables were set up for the food that was available earlier. You sat around one of the tables each with your own drink. “So you recognized us huh?” Sam looked up at you as he sips his drink.

“Honestly now that I know its you I would have known Colby by his name and face alone but I thought it was a voice changer or something. Not to mention I don’t really know too many people with the name Colby. Realistically I would have overlooked what you guys but I was watching your videos while getting ready to come.”

Colby chuckled and you three talked for a while before agreeing to walk through the fake barn maze. There was a small line which allowed small groups no larger than 6 in at a time. Colby and Sam put their masks into the drawstring bag that was hidden under Sam’s costume as you waited and you all were able to toss your empty drinks in a garbage right before entering into near darkness.

A winding path greeted you three where between the two and a half winding corridors were four automated animatronics that provided a good jump scare before opening up into the first room. The red and yellow lit room was decorated with fake hanging body limbs with the center having a table with delimbed torso. Just as you got around the corner a female whimper drew your attention to a caged area where a disheveled girl was locked inside pleading for you to help her. As you moved closer a chainsaw roared to life behind you as a leather face dressed man charged out of the hidden corner chasing the three of you out of the room and into the next section.

As you made your way through the last 3 rooms you have been positioned somewhere between the two. You swear Sam jumped a foot off the ground when he was caught off guard at the last jump scare. Your thoughts were confirmed when you left and Colby began to laugh and called Sam out on it. From there the three of you bumped into each other as you walked on to the next thing you were off to do, which was carve some pumpkins which really just became a but if a mess of pumpkin guts that was tossed about your table until your group was asked to leave.

The two put back on their masks and you gladly took videos of them going around scaring poor people passing by. When your friend finally texts to meet up, you took a group picture with the two who were enjoying making trouble scaring people and sent it with the location to meet up. Sam and Colby hid them selves and waited until your friend arrived popping out and gave your friend a good scare before the three of you exchanged numbers agreeing to join them on a future ghost hunt before you left with your friend.

“Told you, you would have fun.” Your friend walks backwards, their phone out and up.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes seconds before your head is bunched between your shoulders from the flinching reaction of two ‘Boos’ on either side of you accompanies by a Freddy Kruger and Ghost Face masks.

You turn playfully hitting the laughing guys on the shoulders as the turn to scurry away.

“Trouble I tell you. They are trouble.” You comment turning to your friend with a large smile.

#sam and colby #sam x reader #colbyxreader #colby brock #sam golbach #kippys spoopy saturdays

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keyofjetwolf · 1 year ago

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The Pallbearers Club, by Paul Tremblay

Did I like this? Did I not? YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE

Let's start with the things I can say for sure. (Light spoilers to follow, but nothing too egregious.)

I loved the idea behind this, and the style that carried it through. The basic gist here is a memoir written by this guy, Art Barbara (fake name), who is a general sad sack disaffected Gen X'er who loves music and crawling up his own ass. His memoir -- beginning around 1988 when he's 17 and going through to the "now" of 2020-ish -- is scattered with commentary, refutations, and alternate points of view by his oldest friend, Mercy (also fake name), who has found and is reading the book.

LOVED THIS. Loved what essentially comes down to dueling unreliable narrators. Loved what could almost be considered a four-way conversation between Art, Mercy, the author, and the reader about memory and nostalgia, choice and blame, growth and stagnation. There's some good shit here.

DID NOT LOVE how ponderously long it took to get there. At around 270 pages, this isn't an over long book, but ye gods, did it feel like it took FOR FUCKING EVER sometimes.

(We get a bit more spoilery under the cut)

And it's tough to know whose fault that is, or if it's a "fault" at all. Those navel-gazing, aimless parts, that's Art, that's his life, in his own words, as inescapable to us as it feels to him. Is it a fault that I'm sitting here like "Oh my god my guy GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT" when I'm pretty sure that's exactly the way I'm supposed to feel about him?

Quite possibly not, but we also probably could've gotten that with like twenty pages less of Art meandering through the Providence music scene.

In many ways, the book never really grows beyond its premise, but again, is that the point? The characters themselves are rooted in place, perpetually locked in a space that has been swallowed by years and abandoned by relevance. Even Bob Mould went solo, kids.

I think to fully decide my feelings on The Pallbearers Club, I might have to read more by Paul Tremblay. This is my first exposure to his work, so it's tough for me to say with confidence what's stylistic choice versus stylistic failing. Is pondering and aimless more Art, or Paul?

You may note, if you've read the book or even just the publisher's description, I've completely left out anything to do with horror or supernatural or whatever. Those parts are there, for sure, even crucial to the central glue of the plot, but I found them surprisingly extraneous. Even by "this isn't really about this" horror standards, it all felt irrelevant. Or perhaps the more correct word is incidental. I'm not even sure the author (the Art author) intended his readers to believe he was truly dealing with spoopy spoops, or if he was just metaphoring super hard, with that particular brand of pretentious arrogance only the truly insufferable can wield.

So yeah, I still have no idea if I liked it or not. I may also have uncomfortably identified with some stuff in here, which was very rude, but anyway. Hell of a premise, though, and done well enough that I'll happily try another of Paul Tremblay's books.

#jet wolf also reads books #jw books 2024

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definegodliness · 3 years ago

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#limerick #spoop with us reader #forever and ever and ever and ever

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kazukazuhas · 2 years ago

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❝ 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ❞ —- [ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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

⇢ 𝐜𝐰𝐬 ; ; kissing ;; fluff ;; marriage things ;; zhongli is and way younger here (around after the archon war time) ;; this takes place wayyy before the fall of the exuvia ;; use of the name "morax" ;; god/dess!reader / venti's sibling ;; slight angst at the end

⇢ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; ; i'm not the best for this guy (and not down for him much) but my friend likes him so i decided to grace her with him for the event like diluc. also there are some inconsistencies with the lore, i apologize. i just want the yaksha to be alive. i forget they died okay–

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

it was no surprise that tonight he had finally wedded you, the only shock is that it took him so long to do so. the lights hung low and swirled like fireflies dancing in the grass at the perk of night, the smell of wine wavered on the wave with a gentle sweetness mixing in the air. it was no big event, liyue however did celebrate the occasion with bright colours lining the sky, despite the wedding itself not even in the city.

morax, though not by your side at the moment, laughed alongside his dearest friends with a boyish charm you only saw once before in the younger years of the friendship you had with him. it was pleasant seeing him so relaxed, so happy with the music lifted his smile higher than where he had flown. dancing playfully with the younger adepti alatus was fond of.

"i still don't approve of this." a blunt voice broke your trance of the scene before you, a light giggle still in his voice. "but– i'm happy that you're happy," the man you leaned on sighed with a sort of relieved tone before squeezing your hand.

"thank you, barbatos." a soft reply was all you granted him before continuing with the heart eyed staring back at your husband. your brother scoffed lightly before wrapping his arm about you, a simple side hug.

slipping away from the crowd to where you and barbatos sat watching, morax glared softly at your brother but kept a hand extended towards you. ignoring the tension between the archons, you shake of the younger god of the pair's arm off before holding your husband's hand and pulling him away.

"do not start a fight," you mumbled while smiling back to the young adepti conversing close by. morax groaned before mumbling a yes quietly, sending a glare back to the anemo archon swirling the wine in his cup.

abruptly stopping and facing him with a sincere smile and a glint of lovestruck-ness in your eye, you reach behind him to wrap your arms around his neck. your brush the short strands of light faded brown over around your arms and pressed your forehead to his shoulder. without needing to see it, you knew that he subconsciously shut down beofre he could wrap his arms around your waist and bury his own face in your hair.

the world slowed, he thought, or atleast he had his in his arms, swaying with the music played and in a trance of love and wine. he hummed softly agsint your ear and lulled you further in love with all his small actions.

"i will forever love you," you mumbled softly against the fabric of his clothes, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck with closed eyes and hummed along with him.

"as will i, my dear."

✧ — ✧ — ✧

sat still, in near shock of the news displayed for your view but hand still shaking at the realization of what you heard. the delicate teacup slipped from your fingers, meeting the ground and falling into tears of shattered despair. you stared at the young traveler and their companion with a wild fear in your heart, looking for answers.

"rex lapis– my husband is dead?"

"husband!" the companion screeched before flying around and hugging your shoulders, clearly distaunt herself by the news you heard.

you knew something was strange for the past weeks, he had no a word spoken you and disregarded all advances to your worry for him. a falling out of anger was the result of such disregard.

now you wish you tried harder.

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

#[ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ]#genshin #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli genshin #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #hurt/no comfort #morax #morax genshin impact #morax x reader

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wwilloww · 4 years ago

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god of mischief | ksj

PAIRING god of mischief kim seokjin x sun priestess reader

RATING explicit.

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

WC 7.5k

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

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

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

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

GOD OF MISCHIEF

You never imagined the world ending this way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hadn’t.

There was something you’d forgotten.

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

Lugh, please. Come to my aide.

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

The smoke is quickly thickening.

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

Nothing has changed.

You try once more.

A third time.

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

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

A deep rumble echoes through the temple and everything stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not him.”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“Your rescuer, the one you asked for.”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck the temple,”

You sputter “Fuck?! The temple?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when the shock passes.

“Put me down! How—how dare you!”

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

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

“No,” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A home is not in a god,” he murmurs.

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

“A god who’s made the same mistake.”

That’s when you notice it.

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

Oh.

A god.

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

God of mischief.

“You—”

“Jin,” he says. “Call me Jin.”

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

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

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

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

“No,” you whisper.

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

“When did he come?”

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

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

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

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

“And how on earth does one earn devotion?”

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

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

He cocks an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

“May I?”

You swallow.

“Why should I let you?”

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

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

“Show me,” you whisper.

“Alright, little one.”

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

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

Need.

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

Like you already have to another god.

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

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

Desire for you.

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

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

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

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

“Who came for you?”

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

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

“Me?”

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

“My firstborn.”

“A firstborn in my image, yes.”

You flush at the thought.

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

Your face flushes.

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

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

You nod.

He turns to leave, and then turns back.

“And what will you do in the meantime?”

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

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

“Wha—”

“Think of it as a parting gift.”

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

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

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

Your days are busy.

Your days are empty.

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

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

And haunted by him.

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

You feel tension singing. You feel thrilled.

You feel so goddamn annoyed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With child?”

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

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

“Give me?” He looks at you incredulously.

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

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

“How do you know he will be a boy?”

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

You gape at him.

“You can see the future?!”

“Bits, darling. Bits.”

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes lock on yours.

“You do not know what you suggest.”

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

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

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

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

“You.”

Jin falls silent.

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

“Me?”

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

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

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

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

Jin finally seems to listen and he leans closer.

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

“Your humanity.”

Something in his mouth twitches at that.

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

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

Jin flushes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is soft. Searching.

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

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

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

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

“Please, I need… more.”

“More?”

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

“Are you sure, my priestess?”

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

You nod, but he continues.

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

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

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

The reminder surprises you.

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

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

He searches your gaze for a second confirmation before nodding.

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

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

“Undress me,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you say.

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

“Get on the bed,” he says.

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

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

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

“Getting, um, ready?”

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

“Hm?”

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

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Does that embarrass you?”

“N-no.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Lick your palm.”

“Lick my palm?”

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

“With a little aide.”

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

“My gods, priestess—” he chokes.

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

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

But maybe he does.

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

“Was I not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you gasp. “Never.”

He drinks up the answer.

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

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

“And now you’re mine.”

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

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

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

It feels like escape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look. See how I fill you up.”

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

“Put your hand on it.”

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

“Need you, deeper,” you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside,” you gasp. “Inside, please.”

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

For closeness.

For you.

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

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

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

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

Exactly.

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

“Lay here, like this.”

“Like this?”

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

A secret shared with a god.

What have you gotten yourself into?

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

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

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

“Creature?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jin?”

“Good sleep?”

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

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

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

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

“That I did.”

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

“The road awaits us.”

Fin!

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

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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

🔆 want to read more?

#bts smut #jin smut #jin fluff #loki au #bts loki #god of mischief #bts fic #jin fic #seokjin #whalien 52

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hereisleo · 3 years ago

Text

from/ ‘All Hallows’ Eve’

w/ k.hj & reader

g/ inspired by “persona 3”: angst, friendship, supernatural

w.c/ 1k

a.n/ hello~ it’s me~ it’s been a while since i stepped foot in tumblr! sorry for disappearing without notice but i’ve not been in the writing mood for some time, life too has been busy. in honour of spoop month, here’s another piece to the series. i don’t know how many of you are still around but enjoy! happy halloween!

t.w/ ghost, blood, death

[First Quarter]

“Don’t.”

You stop in your tracks. Why? He warns you out of good nature but never is able to explain more. He doesn’t know either, he tells you it’s a bad time to go and you might see something you wish to forget. There’s no turning back when it happens. Unfortunately, the inevitable already happened. You’ve seen him, an anomaly in your usually normal life. Kim Hongjoong. A dead man. A ghost in your apartment.

“Have you gone out there? In the hidden hour?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. He doesn’t remember anything related to his death. As a ghost, he feels everything that living humans doesn’t feel. The danger, the restlessness, the wailing, the torment. He calls it the hidden hour, a secret hour where those without potentials turn into coffins and those with are preys. The hidden hour is where the dead become the living. Yet Hongjoong is still a ghost and you, a human, apparently with potential, are now sitting on your bed. The dark blue sky is tinted green with the half golden moon, so big and close to Earth almost as if the distance is reduced by half.

The coffins, water turning into blood, the gigantic moon are nothing compared to the lofty skyscraper of a tower appearing out of nowhere. A pseudo gothic edifice formed with the surrounding buildings pierce through the moon. It’s horrifyingly beautiful and Hongjoong agrees with your musing.

“I don’t know. Maybe I have. I can never seem to remember anything after a certain time. I can feel it nearing again, crawling under my skin.”

You look over at him, Hongjoong appears with his black and white striped polo shirt. Your first wild guess was a dead runaway prisoner but he miffly shut down the idea. No prisoner is as fashionable as he is. His hair matches his polo, black and white, cleanly split in half. Your second guess was Cruella cosplay which he took more graciously. A trailblazer of their own.

“You should sleep. There’s not much we can do at this time. If they sense you, you might as well be food for the dead.”

You tuck yourself in and Hongjoong too because he keeps you company while he contemplates life. The blanket goes through him but it's the thought that counts.

“Goodnight, Joong.”

[Waxing Gibbous]

“Joong? Hongjoong?”

Silence greets you in the hidden hour's eerie ambiance. You can hear the guttural noises the shadows are making down the street, louder than what you’re used to. Perhaps it's the moon phases, slowly but surely getting fuller each day, and each day, Hongjoong seems to disappear longer or have trouble appearing. Are ghosts affected by the phases? Why are you the only one who can see him? You’ve asked the apartment staff and none seem to know the existence of Kim Hongjoong.

“I’m here…”

Hongjoong looks a bit worse for wear. Did he lose weight? There are telltale of dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look slightly sunken in. The hidden hour. Where the dead becomes the living.

“Are the shadows giving you trouble?”

He slightly winced at your comment, it seems to hit the mark. He shut your window when the groaning of the shadows grew louder, clutching his forehead as if he had a very painful headache. You urge him to sit down, the blanket goes through him again but he never goes through your bed, what an interesting ghostly concept. He sinks further into your pillow, burying half of his face into it.

“That and my head feels like they’re splitting in half. I have dreams that don't feel like dreams. It’s always the same, it gets clearer each time.”

You reach forward to brush his fringes in comfort and your fingers painfully buzz with sharp static electricity. Well, that never happened before, your fingers usually pass through him with goosebumps trailing up your arms. He gives you an apologetic frown, too spent for another word.

“It’s alright, Joong, though I do wish I could see your dream so you don’t have to shoulder it yourself.”

His brows furrowed and he shakes his head. You should have been careful with what you wished for. It wouldn’t be long until you wished that his dream didn’t come true because that will be the last time you see your friendly ghost roommate.

[Full Moon]

Dreams do come true. The ear splitting roar you hear in your shared dream with Hongjoong becomes a reality. The bridge shakes and your footing is unstable. He can’t hear you, he’s too far. No, you couldn’t get close. There are instances where you are scared but this… This is fear.

Hongjoong is solid, he has pushed you away from him, his hands warm and strong against your shoulders. He drops to his knees, clawing at his head and letting out a heart wrenching scream. You feel suffocated within his presence.

“Make it stop! I just want to be free! I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

You jump, ignoring the handing in your ribcage, the twisting in your stomach and the cold sweat dripping down. Hongjoong, your ghost roommate, is alive. Your arms wrap around him, coughing when his elbow struck your chest but you held him. He burns inhumanly hot.

“It’s okay, Joongie. I’m right here. Be free.”

You didn’t know the implication of your statement, you didn’t know until Hongjoong looked at you with desperation, pain and guilt. But in that moment, he’s relieved and so are you. In an instant you feel bone chilling coldness seeping into you, so cold it burns. You hear shadows roaring and closing all around you, blood thick and pungent soaking your trousers, and coffins towering over you. Hongjoong starts to disappear, lighter and more translucent with each passing second.

“You must survive.”

Hongjoong’s parting word brings a specific memory. Those with potential are food for the living dead. The frantic rushing and jumping of shadows to feast, they were close enough for you to feel their teeth before you heard something shatter. The bell from the tower in the middle of the chime with intensity that rattles your teeth and eardrums.

Just like that the hidden hour ends. The twisted skyscraper disappears in a blink. The coffins towering over you turn into pedestrians, yelling and screaming at your state. You probably look similar to a notorious serial killer caught in the bloody act. In your arms is the cold body of Kim Hongjoong.

I must survive.

#8makes1teamnet #ateezlovenet #kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #k.hj #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong blurbs #hongjoong drabbles #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez blurbs #ateez drabbles #leojov

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine Costume-Prepping With Peter:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tony Stark good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agreed sagely, “Meaningful, sacred tradition.”

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “Mhm. Yes. Why?”

“Pete.”

“Yes.”

“Pete.”

“Yes.”

“Peter.”

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker.”

“Yes, [Y/N] [L/N].”

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

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

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

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moonchildsaurora · 4 years ago

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currently on tune: Sunmi – "Tail”

✤ mob boss!Seonghwa x reader (feat. Yunho) ✤ genre: Criminal AU // flames & angst, with the tiniest touch of affection ✤ t/w: rated M, contains: swearing, mentions of guns & needles ✤ count: 910

a/n - hewwo, long time no write! This has been sitting in my drafts forever, however it’s completed. Thanks to Fireworks Hwa for giving me such vivid inspo for this piece, he came back to attempt to re-claim his 3rd bias spot once more. And when Sunmi dropped this track, my mind just blew off. It’s officially spoops season too, there is something brewing behind the scenes that I’m absolutely ecstatic for. Enjoy these too hot too handle criminals! 💙

A beautiful hybrid of chaos and grace – such were the words others would often describe you both. He was Clyde and you, his Bonnie. He ruled the streets viciously but loved deeply in the sheets. Just the two of you, down to ride till the very end together.

Or so you thought.

“Wake up sleeping beauty,“ a mellow cool voice coaxed.

You mumbled a small noise out, before shifting and stretching out your taut limbs slowly. Blinking away the sleep, your vision honed in on the opposite wall that was covered with a mosaic of bold intricate sketches.

"Good dream? You were purring again.”

A gloved hand smoothed over the skin of your right shoulder blade, damp rubber gliding over the spot. The whirring of a machine and slight pinching, like an army of ants biting all at once, brought you right back to the leather chair you’ve been laying on for the past hour or so – awaiting for new art to descend from the needles unto your skin.

“You weren’t in it so, not entirely,” you replied with a pert grin. Which was a partial truth, you weren’t fond of having ashy grey strands and smoky shadow-smudged eyes invade the depths of your mind at all. The weathered photo that still hid within the white gold star locket hung that much heavier around your neck.

That was the last connection you’ve yet to sever.

“Almost done sweetheart…”

You let out a content sigh as the sharp pricks returned – it was a cathartic release. But nothing would re-ignite the spark in your eyes more than seeing Yunho unveil his new artwork afterwards. Locking on the red dahlia-tipped sleek dagger piercing right through the head of where the serpent coiled.

“What do you think?” asked Yunho, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses up the curve of your neck once he finished wrapping your shoulder to protect the new ink.

The serpent that you’ve long served would be struck down by the same hands its kissed.

Turning your head to catch his lips, you curled into him. “Absolutely hit the bullseye, Yun…” your voice dripping with honey.

“Shall we arrange a date to show him?”

“The sooner, the better.”

“Angel…”

The nickname rolled off his tongue like butter, and you despised how it still sent a delectable shiver down your spine. Drawing up past memories to play on reel in your head – the screeching of tyres from the getaway car with both of your laughter carried off by the winds, the hefty stacks of dollar bills you’d use as a foot stool, the scent of gunpowder and Tuscan leather wafted just at the edge of your senses. He called you that when he’d press you into the mattress till you were well spent, but it didn’t matter because he loved you.

You never once doubted him, never had a reason to. Until he handed you one right on a silver platter.

“Fuck off. You don’t get to call me that anymore, Seonghwa.”

For someone who was facing down the barrel of a pistol and warehouse ablaze, he kept his composure anchored. Seeing his calculative cold-slated eyes run down your body, only to settle on the new ink. It perked your satisfaction with a way you recognised the hidden frown in his poker face.

He had seen his rival’s mark.

“Why? I’ve missed you, oh so much.”

The gun cocked. Tension radiated off you in waves that even made the rest of Yunho’s men flinch.

“Funny. You have a wonderful way of showing that.”

As you have learnt, you neither forget nor forgave easily.

“You left me behind to take the fall, asshole!”

“And yet here you are, arisen once more Angel.”

You could feel the salt prickling at the corners of your ryes, threatening to give away the small part of you that still hurt. No matter how the events unfolded had hardened up your heart, you could still feel the knives in your back sink in deeper with Seonghwa’s nonchalance.

“I never doubted your strength, love. I knew you were more than capable to return to my side…and of course, I would’ve burnt the entire city down to find you had it taken longer than expected for you to achieve that.”

By now your vice grip on the pistol’s handle had the metal digging harshly into your palm, it should’ve hurt.

But that wasn’t pain, no.

Pain was the months spent behind bars, pain was the loneliness that ate away at hope, pain was accepting that he was never coming for you.

“You’ve already burnt it down, along with me in it.”

Through it all, you’ve made peace with the pain. It became your strength. You were no longer the puppet on strings owned by Seonghwa.

You belonged to you.

Free.

Taking a step closer to him, the metal of the barrel against his pristine forehead.

“And when we burn, we leave nothing behind,” the whisper was solemn and final. That was the very first lesson he taught you.

Even when Yunho slinked up behind your form, a supportive presence just in case things went south, Seonghwa’s cold gaze on you never wavered. In fact, he looked somewhat proud – you had it in you after all.

With a wild grin, the same one you remembered only to appear whenever Seonghwa was right on the edge of the thrill, he pressed further in against the pistol.

“Better make it count then, Angel.”

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lokispettigerr · 5 years ago

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“To Summon a Witcher” Chapter 4- NSFW Geralt x Reader

Summary: Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city’s colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Word Count: 1,260

Warnings: The spoops, lots of angry daddy violence

Taglist: In reblog

A/N: Took me a while to write after this whole virus stuff started, but I am getting back into it now. Chapter five is completed I just have to type it up and edit it. Chapter 5 is what I have been waiting for! I am freaking out over it and cannot wait to share it with you all!

A few weeks passed and Geralt did not come.

Marci told me when she had summoned him and assured me he would come for me.

While I had never seen any of Marci’s spells fail, after the locator spell I witnessed being a bust, I felt pretty hopeless about this one too. Maybe I would carry around this shadow being until the end of my days- never at peace.

Then one evening, the full moon was covered by colossal storm clouds. It looked like it had been blotted out by one of the great Gods above pinching it between their mighty fingertips.

Water drops loudly rained down on the tin roof of my apartment, and the wind howled louder than any wolf. It blew with gusts strong enough to make great oaks and wiley willows bow down and succumb to its will.

Perhaps it was blowing someone or something towards me.

I’d decided to try to rid myself of the impenetrable cold that seeped into my bones by taking a hot bath.

When I was done washing up, I slid into a silken robe and ran my fingers through my wet hair to remove any stubborn tangles.

A loud bang sounded out startling me. I jumped, wondering if the shadow beast had come out to play.

I peeked around the corner of the bathroom, my eyes traveling down the dimly lit hallway.

Static electricity seemed to charge the air and the lights lining the dark walls of the hallway began to flicker and hum.

The front door was wide open, swinging dramatically on its hinges.

Thuds and other noises were sounding out and my heart began to race, fear gripped me.

Someone had broken into my home.

I grabbed an antique, ornamental lamp as I moved down the hallway, clutching it to my chest ready to use it against the intruders or the shadow being I feared was around.

I held my breath, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

With my back against the hallway wall, I crept closer to the kitchen.

A few more thumps could be heard and then a voice sounded out, “Fuck!”-- an impatient growl

The intruder seemed to be disgruntled about something, I couldn’t think of what seeing as they had entered my home uninvited.

I could hear the steps of the intruder coming towards where I stood in the hallway.

I readied myself, pushing away from the wall, gripping white-knuckled on the lamp.

The intruder towered before me. I struck instantly, reacting faster than I thought possible.

Jarring impact traveled up my arm, through my shoulder and filled my neck and chest with radiating, tight tension.

I thought I had mortally wounded the intruder with a burst of surprising strength fueled by adrenaline, however I was mistaken.

The intruder’s large hand had closed over both of my own. He had managed to thwart my attack.

My eyes traveled from his hand trapping my own like a vice, up his heavily muscled arm and to his face. The very face I had dreamt of each night when I went to sleep. Except the difference was that this time, the Witcher looked completely furious.

His face was cast in shadow, but his golden eyes pierced through the gloom as he looked at me menacingly from under his brow.

“It’s you.” He enunciated the last word harshly, making me wilt. “Sorceress,” he growled through clenched teeth and his lips curled back in a snarl. He knew who I was. Had he been dreaming about me as much as I had been dreaming about him? If so, perhaps his emotions of anger and agitation towards me were appropriate. Even I had grown frustrated with my dreams.

His free hand moved faster than a poised snake as his fingers closed around my throat.

He pushed me up against the wall in the hallway.

I would have been a fool to fight against him. All I could do was try to keep breathing.

“Why did you bring me here?!” He questioned, leaning in close, his nostrils flaring.

“I- I didn’t,” I rasped, trying to speak.

“Then who?” he demanded, his grip never faltering.

“A witch.”

“Why have I come to you?”

“I need… Your help,” I squeaked.

The Witcher inhaled deeply, inviting my scent to fill his lungs, his eyes rolled and fluttered shut.

Finally, he let go of my neck and my own hand replaced where his hand had been.

I felt around, checking for damage. My eyes traveled down, widening as I realized his pants were tented with a massive erection. It must have been the adrenaline from the fight he had expected to happen.

“Well then,” I said. “Hello to you too. Is this the way you greet people in your line of work? By trying to kill them?” I didn’t expect an answer and he gave none.

The Witcher was looking at me but not at my face.

Instead, his honey colored eyes were downcast, looking at my breasts.

I followed his gaze, glancing down.

Apparently, during the struggle, my satin bathrobe had fallen open to expose much of my left breast. It was barely managing to cover my cold-hardened, nipple.

I quickly re-positioned the robe and pulled the sash tight.

I could feel my face growing heated and likely increasingly red.

The Witcher’s gaze returned to my face as he raised an acknowledging eyebrow and gave me a muted, “Hmph.”

Finally feeling that I could walk without stumbling, I tried to move away from the wall. I raised my arm up, not wanting to push against him with the palm of my hand.

I tried to move past him to close the still open door of my apartment, my arm still out in front of me.

Geralt grabbed my wrist. His hand was huge and made me feel like I had tiny, glass-like bird bones.

My eyes widened with fear and anticipation. I expected to hear a snap as my wrist was broken, the bones crushed in his grip to a fine powder.

I gasped.

His brows knit together questioningly.

“Please,” I said, breathless. “I just want to shut the door. I’m catching a chill.”

The Witcher released me.

I rubbed my wrist where his finger marks still remained, bright red. There would likely be a bruise there tomorrow.

The door shut with an audible sound. I leaned against it and closed my eyes. I was exhausted and only wanted to sleep and not wake up and really didn’t feel like explaining myself to this intensely gorgeous, heavily-muscled, crushing-gripped-giant-man.

“I’m tired,” I sighed.

Geralt said nothing, only looked at me through his lashes.

“Sleep, Enchantress. I’m here and I will help you. I will not leave.”

Enchantress?

“I told you, I’m not an enchantress or a sorceress, or a witch, or a magician, or anything else.”

He half-smiled and my heart seemed to skip a beat.

I walked past Geralt, the hem of my satin robe tickling my smooth calves.

At the threshold of my bedroom, I looked back at him, he continued to watch me with a lazy smile on his lips.

“Goodnight,” I called out.

He nodded, cordially, “Enchantress.”

Shortly after laying down, I fell asleep.

I awoke to the sound of cricket song in the middle of the night sounding cheery over the storm being over, and to the utterance of my name falling from Geralt’s lips as he dreamt of me.

*****

Thanks for reading friends! Hope to hear from you in my askbox and in comments. Please, support my writing by checking out my patreon and by reblogging, liking and commenting! If you would like to be on a particular taglist please send an ask to my askbox.

Peace,Loki’s Pet Tiger

#geralt fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #geralt fanfiction #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt lemons #lpt #the witcher

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yehet-me-up · 5 years ago

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Frozen North ~ Night Five (final)

PAIRING: Chanyeol x reader

GENRE: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

WORD COUNT: 3,375

RATING: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

SUMMARY: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. One night, a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it, you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

You all sit in silence, staring at Jimmy. The clock on the wall hits midnight but no one makes a move. Faintly, though your headphones, you hear the ad reel kick in.

Daniel comes into the booth a moment later. He folds his arms, looking haunted but ready for action. 'So, what the fuck do we do now?'

Jimmy spins the laptop so you can see the readout. ‘It was right here, I’m telling you. I’ve got it.’ He points to a large building on the outskirts of campus. ‘When the phone smashed, the signal died. But I’m certain.’ He opens up a new tab and overlays the UW map next to the program. ‘I got it.’

‘Albert Hall,’ you read over his shoulder. 'Why does that sound so familiar?'

Suse and Jimmy exchange a look. 'Let's go find him,' she says, as though it's as simple as that.

Logic wars with your desire to sprint out of the building and decimate anyone standing in your way to save Chanyeol. 'There were bars on whatever he's being held in, guys. And at least two people sick enough to do this. If we charge in there and get hurt, or worse, we won't be much help to him,' you say, chewing on your lower lip anxiously. 'Maybe we could call the police? Report a break in or something and they'd have to go investigate.'

'You're right,' Suse sighs, running a jittery hand through her hair. 'But, also. You know...' She gestures with her hands out the window and then back to the four of you.

'Fuck it.’ You stand up and pull on your jacket, heart racing. 'You're right. We can't wait.' Pulling out your phone, you dial 911.

Without even grabbing your bag you stride out into the hallway, pressing the phone to your ear. Shuffling follows you as Suse, Jimmy, and Daniel grab their coats and turn off the lights.

A female voice comes on the line. '911, what's your emergency?'

You stop in the kitchen and pull open the drawers, grabbing the only weapon you can think of - the long knife amongst the various utensils you all keep there for the odd lunch or dinner you eat at the station. The blade gleams in the moonlight coming through the hall window.

The distress and fear are all too real as they color your tone. 'Please, help me,' you say into the phone in a high voice.

The dispatcher carries on with business-like efficiency. 'How can I help you, miss?'

Jimmy holds up the screen beside you as you carry on out the front doors into the night. The address flashes in thick red. You head down the hallway and push out the doors into the freezing night.

'Some guys just took my friend into this building. We were just - we were just walking back from Schultzy's! They came out of nowhere.'

'Are you safe?' she asks. You can hear the clack of her typing in the background.

You feel the wooden handle of the knife in your hand and look at Suse, Jimmy, and Daniel beside you. 'I'm safe. But please, please, hurry.’ You pause to take a dramatic inhale of breath. ‘I think they had a gun.'

Suse smiles and nods at you. You hardly need Jimmy's whispered directions as you all move silently through the sleeping streets to the address listed. Something within you is pulling you towards Chanyeol and you swallow your fear down and keep walking as fast as your legs can carry you.

'I'm putting your address as 800 NE 42nd st, is that correct?'

Silently, you curse and hurry around parked cars. 'No, no I - I ran before they could grab me. It was 4120 11th Ave NE that they took him into. Please, hurry.'

If she thinks it’s strange you have the exact address ready, she doesn’t show it. 'Got it. I'm dispatching units now, please stay on the line while -'

You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. Picking up the pace, you sprint over sidewalks until you stand outside the abandoned building. While it's clearly part of the row of stone and brick classrooms on the far end of campus, this one looks as though it in particular has fallen into disrepair. The trees lining the street behind you are dwarfed by the three-story rise of the building above.

The sign out front is warped with age. Albert Hall - Psychology Research Center

'Does it say precisely where in the building he is?' You whisper to Jimmy, as though the slightest sound will give you away.

He shakes his head. 'No. But I'm willing to bet it's through a back entrance.' He nods up at the boarded up front doors.

Your group moves around to the right side, closer to the University proper. Just a street away the city pulses with life and lights and noise, students enjoying the start of the weekend. But in this isolated corner, near the freeway. it's unnervingly quiet. The perfect place to lock someone up where no one would find them. In your mind you make a promise to Chanyeol and to yourself that this ends tonight. No matter what you have to do, by morning he'll be free.

The outside of the building is dark, sloping gently down the hill behind it. A gust of wind comes through the trees and you wrap your arms around yourself, careful to keep the knife's edge away. Holding your breath you wait for any sign of life or movement inside, praying you’re not too late.

'There!' Suse whispers loudly a minute later, pointing to a flash of light in one of the lower windows.

You start moving towards it, blood pounding in your ears.

Daniel holds your arm gently. 'The police are on their way, shouldn't we wait?'

The fear in your veins is strong, but something pushes you to keep going. 'It's Friday night in the U District, Daniel. I think it might be a while. I can't explain it but, we can't wait.'

He nods grimly and you all carefully pick your way down the slick grass hillside to reach the decidedly not boarded-up back door. Cautiously, you peek inside the darkened glass. Far down the hallway you see another flash of light, followed by a loud crash.

Suse uses the moment to pull open the creaking old door and she heads inside, leading the way. Daniel at the back gently braces it open with a doorstop and motions you all forward. If adrenaline wasn't coursing through your veins you'd take time to be horrified by the shadows in this place.

Your mind runs away with you in the darkness. Though you now believe that the people responsible for Chanyeol's predicament are in fact human and not supernatural, you can't help but wonder. About women in the night with terrifying eyes and wolves that move faster than they should.

You reach the room where the noise is coming from and lean in to catch snippets of conversation.

'So what are we going to do with him, then?' a female voice says. It's oddly familiar.

The sound of pacing in the background increases. A male voice speaks, muffled at first and then louder. 'You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this. There was never any other option.'

The woman counters in a contained scream - 'I didn't think you planned on killing him!'

Chanyeol. You clutch the knife tighter in your hand, readying for a fight. Peeking around the edge you see two figures circling each other in the faint light coming from a generator in the corner of the room.

The man turns and your stomach drops. 'Professor Langford?' you whisper to yourself.

He hardly looks like himself. His jacket is discarded on the floor and he holds a shaking, shadowed object in his hand. 'This was the deal. You help me get someone down here. Your silly little radio station gets a story worthy of national attention. And then we reach the end -'

He walks closer to the light, pressing her against the wall. When his hand raises you see a gun, the barrel going to her forehead. 'I kill him and get my first-hand, up-close, look at what panic does to a community. I’ll finally have a case study worthy of tenure.’

You're so distracted by the fact that your goddamn professor is the one behind all this, you don't even pay attention to who the woman is.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Suse asks loudly, incredulous, startling you. When you turn you see she's beside you, staring into the room. Arms crossed, ready for war. Suse isn't looking at the man, but at the woman. 'Jennifer?'

'Holy shit,' Daniel says, coming to peek between the two of you. 'Boss, what have you done?'

And holy shit indeed, they're right. The anguish on her face meets the harsh light and it’s aged her several years. Her normally loose blonde hair is braided back and a dark knit cap is pulled over it, but it's absolutely her.

In the startled silence you hear a banging sound against metal. Muted groans come from further into the room and you can just make out a cage in the corner - like a prison cell with thick bars, but slightly bigger.

He hunches in the shadows, but you'd know him anywhere. For the last week your thoughts have been filled with nothing but him. You want to run to Chanyeol and get him the hell out of here, but the unstable look in the professor's eyes makes you hold your position.

Professor Langord uses the moment to pull Jennifer into his arms, pressing the gun to her forehead once more. The four of you move into the room, surrounding them, blocking the exit. 'Don't come any closer.'

As you stare each other down, other objects in the room come into focus. Noise machines you recognize from the station. Costumes, masks. A large poster is taped to the wall beside you - ice and a frozen lake as far as you can see.

Disbelief makes you laugh, the sound hollow in the empty room. 'You made it all up?'

Daniel scoffs in disgust. 'You crazy bastard. The cops are on their way. It's over.'

Jennifer sags, shame coloring her features. She raises her hands defensively. 'Paul, stop this. It's over.' She looks at you and your friends. 'I'm so sorry, it - it wasn't supposed to be like this. We're losing our funding this year and we needed the money. I had no idea it would be... this -' she gestures back at Chanyeol and up at the building before lowing her eyes to the floor.

Suse hunkers down for a stand off. 'Let's wait for the cops and then we can resolve all of this.'

The professor makes a noise of distress and points the gun at you instead, shoving Jennifer to the floor. 'No! I'm not going down for this. There's plenty of bullets in here to keep it all quiet.'

He's deranged enough to do it; his hair in wild disarray and a feral hunger in his eyes you've never noticed before. You hold the knife in front of you, stepping around Suse. It’s your fault they all came along and, even if it’s pointless, you’re going to defend them.

With your free hand you shove them all back, behind you. The professor lifts it to be level with your head and terror surges in your veins as you hope to God you can dodge at the right time.

All of a sudden a thunderous bang comes from the corner and the professor turns at the sound. You use the moment, moving without thinking or hesitating. Rushing forward, you reach for his wrist, driving it back against the stone wall. He jerks, nearly losing the gun but maintaining his grip.

He attempts to aim it again, but you're faster. Teeth bared, you lift the knife and hold it to his throat. 'Move and I'll kill you, professor.'

The fight goes out of him, raising his free hand in surrender. You incline your head and call behind you, 'Daniel, grab the gun.'

He does, coming forward and relieving the professor of the weapon. Jimmy appears on your other side, pinning the man's other arm to the wall as well. 'Go get your man, we've got this,' he tells you.

Together they hold him against the wall. Suse flips the light switch and miraculously it still works. She stands guard at the door and watches Jennifer with disgust. Still on the floor, your boss’ knees draw to her chest as she sits upright with her back against the wall. She drops her head into her hands with a groan.

Noise and light spill the hallway, voices calling out. Suse sticks her head out and waves. 'Down here!'

You finally turn to the cage, now fully visible in the light. Chanyeol sits in the corner, his wrists bound in front of him with a length of rope. His wide eyes meet yours emphatically. He tries to speak around the length of fabric in his mouth and you want to sob.

'You're okay, thank God.'

You easily find the key to the enclosure and unlock the door. Dropping to your knees in front of him, you use the knife and cut off his bindings carefully. He reaches up and pulls the material out so he can speak. He's even more ethereal in person - with deep brown eyes, ears that stick out, and a full, pink mouth, he resembles a hero from a fairy tale, even with exhaustion clear on his face.

You can’t help it - you grin and reach for him, instinctually, automatically, before checking the motion.

Your hands hang in the air and he watches them for a beat before meeting your eyes once more. Faster than you can process he sits up and pulls you against him in a slightly off-center hug. Gripping his arms you steady yourself, face pressing against his neck. The spell is broken and suddenly you accept that he's very real and tangible and here and alive. He smells like the ocean, even down here amongst the old tables and chairs.

'Thank you,' he says, lips moving against your hair.

For a long moment you hold each other, in this strange and terrifying place, feeling against all odds as though you've finally come home. You want to cry with relief that he's whole. He was so close to you this whole time. You want to hug him tighter and keep him with you, to protect him from the world. Even if it's ridiculous, and though you've never met him before in your life.

But if telling myths and stories of the unknown for so long has taught you anything, it's that nothing is impossible. 'I can't believe you're here,' you say against him.

His hands find your shoulders and he eases you back to look at you, one hand moving into your hair. For a beat he simply drinks you in, amongst the noise and the sound of police in the room he watches you like you're the only person who exists. And then he surprises you completely by pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours.

For long seconds his cold mouth meets your warm one, tasting and teasing and familiarizing himself with you while you hold onto him, believing abruptly that this must all be a dream. But then you join him, reaching for his face and tracing his skin while you sink into the kiss.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. 'Your voice kept me sane in the darkness.' His eyes open and you know exactly what he means. He tilts his head and motions to a small radio on a ledge in the corner 'I'm so glad you finally found me.'

You blush, unable to help yourself as you push his messy hair out of his eyes so you can see him clearly. 'Any time. For now, how about we get out of here?'

He smiles and laughs, the weak sound finding a home in the hollows of your body. Together you stand, gently helping him off the floor. With him leaning heavily against you, still weak from his days of being in this place, you pull out your cell and dial the recent number.

She answers a beat later. 'Have you heard anything?' Yoora asks, voice tight with sadness.

Instead of answering you press the speaker phone button. Chanyeol bends, reading the name you called and smiling at you. Awe lingers in his eyes at the fact that you knew what he needed before he did. 'Sis?'

'Oh my god,' she starts. You hear the sound of things moving in the background. 'Chan? Are you okay?'

He grins, then winces and presses the hand not around your shoulders to his side. 'Not all the way, but I will be.'

Six months later - June

The station is still hot by the time you arrive in the evening; the summer sun clinging to Seattle well on into the evening. You know how the city feels and you want to hold onto the warmth, too.

Jennifer's office is still dark and you pass by it without looking in. Eventually, someone else will take her place. But for now, Daniel says the management is all filling in. Like so many things after a trauma, life carries on as it always has, and some wounds take longer to heal than others.

You hear his voice when you're in the hallway and grin. No matter how quickly you get out of your class or internship or TA duties Chanyeol still manages to beat you here. His exuberant, deep voice jokes with Daniel and when you peek in the door they're both looking at the computer. They’ve been thick as thieves since he helped you walk Chanyeol out of that godawful place and into the ambulance.

He notices you standing in the doorway and grins, the familiar crinkles coming to the corner of his eyes. 'There she is!'

You never know who does it first. If he reaches for you or if you reach for him. Or perhaps you're both drawn to each other like magnets, always reaching. He wraps his arms around you and you sigh, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Daniel makes a dramatic gagging noise and mutters 'get a room' that all three of you know he doesn't mean. Since the incident he's taken on even more of a protective vibe that now extends to Chanyeol as well.

When it’s finally time to start the show you swap out for Suse, hugging her like always. If anything, this has all brought you and her closer and the four of you are inseparable.

‘Don’t have too much fun tonight,’ she teases, winking as she shuts the door behind her.

With a laugh you assume your place on the far side of the desk, settling in where you’ve always sat. The headphones are the same. The switchboard of sixteen lines, waiting for people to call in, is the same. But what isn’t the same is the man who settles himself into a mirroring desk opposite you.

He gives you a lopsided grin that makes is way into your voice as you start the show. 'Hello and welcome back to The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ Seattle, where the dial might stop, but we don’t. I’m Y/N...'

After the story broke and everyone learned who you are it seemed silly to keep the nickname. The diehard listeners and people who called into the show know you on a deeper level now, and the show doesn't seem to be slowing down in the least.

When everyone learned about the financial distress of the station, that Jennifer was hiding from everyone, the donations poured in. The thought of having this program, now shared by your boyfriend, gives you a sense of peace amongst all the change in your life.

'And I'm Chanyeol,’ he says. ‘We’ll be your host for the evening. Let’s get weird.' He winks and squeezes your hand beneath the booth.

~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @yeoldontknow @enthusiastt @itskindofafairything @gogh-suck-it @nshitae @jeons-moonchild

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol au #exo x reader #exo fanfic #exo au #exo horror #sorry for the delay! I hope you all enjoy <3333

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thebunnyslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Sunlight

summary. You've prayed so long for warmth...then one day your prayers are answered.

characters. Sun God!Steve x Reader

wc. ~3.7k words

warning. none

BunBun’s Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Your one grace in life was that you had been left on the steps of the most prestigious temple as a babe. No name, only yourself in a basket with a bouquet of sunflowers, meant as an offering to the Sun God to protect you. When you were old enough, you worked hard to prove you deserved a place, wanting to please the gods. The other women of the temple, all from upper class families whose families had paid for their positions, looked down upon you. They felt as though you were a showoff, favored above others by the higher priestesses, and as such, never spoke to you unless absolutely necessary. The higher priestesses treated you kindly, true; but were matronly above all else and often a bit aloof. As such, in the temple of the sun, you often felt cold and alone, talking only quietly to yourself. You sought the warmth and comfort for someone to call your own. And to call you theirs in turn.

You kept a small private garden out behind your living quarters. The temple had a communal garden, but the other women left you only gravely rock unfit to grow anything. But you’d found a small, very fertile patch deep in the woods in a clearing by a stream. You’d managed to grow sunflowers, having stolen a few seeds from the kitchens. You worried this would make the gods angry, but instead every seed you planted grew into a beautiful bloom. And from those blooms, you were able to gather more seeds. Some of which you kept on your person, some of which you packaged and shared with the less fortunate people you met in the village, and the rest you continued to cultivate for yourself; pressing the flowers in your journals to preserve their beauty or using them to make paints.

One cold night, only a few days away from the harvest festival to celebrate the new year; you’d gathered a bushel of the brightest sunflowers from your garden and stowed away into the temple, hoping to offer tribute to bring warmth into your life The warm air in the temple was a welcome protection from chilly air outside, thanks to the large fire pit in the center of the room. Some of the older priestesses were tidying up and nodded simply at you before leaving; giving you privacy.

You knelt before the altar of the sun and laid the flowers down. You weren’t sure exactly what to say; now feeling foolish and selfish when you knew there were so many more worthy things to ask for, to help people. But you found yourself saying

“Please, shine your light on me. Let me find someone to warm me and comfort me when I am lonely.” The air was still for a moment, then the crackling of the fire became louder. You turned and saw the fire was growing. Bigger and brighter, it grew until you were blinded and feared its burn. Then your world went dark.

You awoke on what you were was a cloud. You stretched out your hand, feeling the sheets that were smoother than silk. You opened your eyes enough to see a sheer golden lace canopy hanging overhead. You sat up slowly, feeling slightly dizzy; trying to gather where you were and what happened. You looked around to see you were on an enormous bed with golden yellow blankets and pillows.

“Here, drink this.” A voice spoke and you jumped, turning to the source. Your eyes had to adjust, like looking up at the sky on a bright sunny day. But your mouth gaped open as you took him in. Tall and massive like a mountain, he had a body that seemed sculpted from clay. Broad shoulders held up a dark blue tunic, exposing strong arms. A man’s beard framed a boyish smile with golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes that were full of knowledge…and hunger. He was standing at the foot of the bed, in his hand was a golden goblet.

You looked around the rest of the room, admiring the tall shelves full of books. A fireplace housed a roaring fire. But what drew your eye most were the vases of sunflowers. There seemed to be at least one on every flat surface, all holding flowers that looked like the ones you’d been growing for the last few years. He stepped closer and sat down at the edge of the bed, leaving space between you two.

“They are, indeed, little one.” he said, smiling and again offering the goblet. You were hesitant at first, but as you sat near him, you felt more comfortable, familiar. You carefully took the goblet from him and sipped it slowly. The taste was nothing more than water, but when you swallowed, you felt warmer, more alive than you’d ever felt.

“Wow” you gasped, swallowing the rest of it down easily. “Who are you?” He shifted closer to you, running his hand down your cheek.

“Pity. You’ve spent so much time talking to me, I’d thought you’d know me by now.” He leaned forward, taking the goblet away and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The cup vanished, as if it had never existed to begin with and you were left aghast.

“Talking to you? But I only ever spoke to myself in the…” Realization dawned on you. “No, I couldn’t…this couldn’t” you were sitting in the bedroom…in the very house of the Sun God.

“You can call me Steven, little lamb.”

“No…but…I’m not worthy…” your eyes started to tear up, fearing this was some sort of punishment or damnation. But he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, soothing you.

“No, my beauty. You have proven yourself more than worthy. I have watched you over these many years. I have seen how hard you work, your kind heart; You want to only create beauty in this world and to make me happy. Now it’s my turn to repay the favor.” He took your hands, helping you stand up from the bed. As you moved, your simple robes turned into a beautiful sky-blue dress to compliment his dark tunic.

“Come, my love.” He took your arm in his and escorted you out of the bedroom, down a hallway and out into a beautiful garden. There were flowers and plants you could scarcely imagine. And of course, miles of sunflowers. Small creatures, bunnies you saw in particular, scurried about. And brightly overhead, the sun and air made everything feel fresh and new.

“I hope you like it.” Steven said. “I can imagine you’ll probably spend quite a lot of time out here. If not spent in the library, or my art studio. Or our bed.” Steven teased, wrapping his arm around you and you pulling you close to him in a tight hug. His forwardness making you squeak. You stared up at him, still in shock at what was happening.

“But…why me? There are many other girls in the temple, far more worthy than me. Surely, you would want one of them for a bride.”

“Worthy? Who could be more worthy than you? I told you; I’ve seen you, right down to your soul and every beautiful thought you’ve had.” Steven explained.

“But I have nothing…no status or power. I am not fit to be the lover of a god.” You turned away from him, not wanting him to see you cry. But his only response was to wrap his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head and holding tightly.

“Believe me, you are worth more than a thousand of any one of those harpies. They seek only greed and power for themselves and their status. They do not wish to see the beauty in existence, only its next step up. You write beautiful poetry, grow flowers just to admire them, you have always given warmth; you deserve some in return.”

You considered his words. He was right, you’d never once wanted the phenomenal power the gods were said to bestow. Being a child of the temple, you had no family status to speak of, no wealth. You knew those did not bring the happiness and warmth a good book or a warm meal could bring to you. What was money and power if there was no one you loved to share it with? Steven leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Come, I have another room to show you.”

The room he brought you too was enormous. Floor to ceiling windows on 3 walls looked out into the garden you’d been in. Half-finished sketches and paintings were strewn about. The back wall was covered with paintings, drawings, sketches, all beautiful landscapes. Green forests that stretched on for miles, beaches with oceans that blurred into the sky above, and mountains that towered above valleys below.

“Did you make all these?” You said, staring and examining each one.

“I did, and they’re all real. I’ll take you to any of them you want to go and more places even beautiful than those.” Steven promised.

You stopped in front of a painting of a field with a river surrounded by woods. You looked closely and your jaw dropped in recognition when you saw the patch of sunflowers; it was your garden. And you were even more surprised as you leaned in closer to see the river in the painting was actually moving, the leaves on the trees rustled in the wind, and a deer walked slowly into the clearing, ate some grass, then continued off out of view of the page.

“Steven…you…you made this?”

“Yes, my love. I could not speak to you directly, but I could hear you in my temple, every wish and desire. I did my best to make and give you what I could, hoping and waiting you would speak to me directly in the temple.” He said. You smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. But your work certainly is incredible.” He stood next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Thank you, my love. But it all pales in comparison to you.” Your cheeks heated up, suddenly finding the floor very interesting to look at. But Steve cupped your chin, pulling your face back towards his.

“Let your god worship you for once.” He pressed his lips against yours and you somehow seemed to get even warmer. Steven’s arms wrapped around you, scooping you up as if you were weightless and carrying you back towards the bedroom. He set you back on the bed, kneeling next to you to remove your sandals. He placed soft kisses on your ankles and slowly up your legs.

“I promise to be gentile for your first time.” He whispered.

“Steven…” You bit your lip, trying to find the words. “For my first time, I want you; all of you. I want to feel everything…” His blue eyes grew darker.

“If you want to feel, little lamb. I’ll make sure you feel. Lay back on the bed.” You moved to scoot up towards the headboard and your dress disappeared, leaving you in only a pair of yellow panties. “My sunlight.” Steven sighed, his own tunic disappearing as he knelt between your legs. A pair of black undershorts revealed a large bulge that had your thighs clenching. Steve licked his lips.

“So cute. Relax, baby. I’ll make sure you’re good and ready before we get there.” He leaned in to kiss you, taking your hands and bringing them up to grab his hair. “Don’t let go until I say you can.” You bit your lip and nodded. A small “Yes Steven” squeaking past your lips.

“Such a good girl.” He slowly kissed you again before kissing down your neck and chest, pausing to kiss across your breasts before continuing his kisses downward until he reached the hem of your panties. He nudged your thighs apart, hooking your legs over his broad shoulders. He inhaled deeply and let out a little moan.

“Your little pussy smells so sweet. I’ll bet you’re soaked for me, aren’t you baby? You should be. I can’t wait to taste this pussy. You’ll have to offer it to your god every day, understood?” You nodded, pressing your hips up and holding his hair tightly, making him groan low.

He moved his hand over your panties, and they seemed to burn away, leaving only a warm tingle between your legs. He winked and you found yourself giggling like a schoolgirl at his charisma and powers. He truly was a god but all he wanted was your pleasure.

He hooked one arm under your legs and lifted you up slightly, reminding you of his godly strength. His eyes found yours. His voice was low. “Watch. Watch me feast on my sacrifice.” He wasted no time licking a long streak up your slit. A breathy moan left your lips and he smiled. “Such beautiful sounds you make, little dove. And they’re all mine for all eternity.”

He continued his ministrations, using his fingers on one hand to draw circles around your clit while his tongue licked at every inch of your pussy, lewd sucking noises were absolutely filthy and sinful coming from his divine lips.

“So, fucking good…” he murmured. “And all mine forever.” Using his other hand, he brought two fingers and slowly pushed them into your pussy, rubbing against the special spot you could never quite reach. You had touched yourself once or twice in the solace of your room, but you’d never felt anything near this amazing. His warm touch was setting the rest of your body on fire.

“Steven…please…” You were gripping his hair for dear life, every tug making him groan against you.

“Yes, my love; are you going to cum? I want to taste every drop. You are true ambrosia, nectar of the gods.” He rubbed your clit faster. “Cum my little star. Cum for me.” Your body tightened as you fell into the abyss of pleasure, screaming his name and bucking your hips into his face. He kept his word, licking every part of you he could reach as his hands slowed, letting you ride out the rest of your climax

When you finally came down from your high, you looked down and saw how tightly your thighs were gripping his head. You snapped your legs open.

“I’m sorry…did I hurt you?” But Steven only chuckled, his voice low. He took your hands from his head, kissing your palms and wrists; he climbed bed up the bed to meet you, kissing your lips so that you could taste yourself on him.

“You are worried about hurting me, little lamb." He mused. “Never apologize for that, love. I would happily perish with my head between your thighs if you wished.” Your face heated up and you weren’t sure how to respond. Steven lay next to you, and you wrapped your arms around him, snuggling close to his chest.

“This has to be a dream.” You said, a tear running down your cheek.

“Why do you say that as if you’re expecting me to shove you away at a moment’s notice?” Steven asked, his voice full of concern.

“It’s all I’ve ever known, I suppose. I still do not understand why you have chosen me. Someone so inexperienced, so broken.” At this, Steven looked down at you.

“Oh, sweet thing, A soul that's born in cold and rain knows sunlight. Oh, your love is sunlight.” He kissed you again; then turned you so that you were on top of him. He held your hips tightly and the way he looked at you made you feel even smaller.

“It’s your turn now, little one. Take your pleasure as you see fit.” Fit… when he turned you over, his shorts had vanished, and now you could feel his cock prodding against you. And from what you could feel, you weren’t sure how on earth he WOULD fit. You’d heard some of the other women at the temple boasting about their past experiences. But Steven, you’re sure, would put all their former lovers to shame. He nudged his cock against your ass. You swallowed and adjusted so that you were kneeling over his cock.

“Breathe, little love. There is no rush to our pleasure.” You met his eyes and saw only love and warmth. Letting go of the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you lowered yourself, gasping as the head of his cock penetrated you.

“Fuck.” You let yourself sink lower, moaning at the feeling of him filling you up as your pussy flexed and squeezed his cock. His hold on your hips tightened as you watched his eyes roll back. Steven moaned and you bit your lip, watching a strong god fall apart. You flexed around him again, but he gave a sharp smack to your ass that made you yelp.

“Don’t get cheeky there, dove. You do not want to test a god’s strength.” He purred. With newfound confidence and strength, fueled by his love and devotion, you smirked and traced your finger down his chest, tweaking one of his nipples.

“I thought you were here for my pleasure.” you said, leaning into kiss him, but biting his bottom lip instead. Steven’s pupils were blown wide with lust.

“You’re waving a red flag in front of a bull darling. If you keep teasing me, I won’t be able to control myself.” Curious, you now steadied yourself on his chest.

“So…what?” you replied kissing him and flexing your muscles again. He groaned into the kiss and took one of his hands from your hips, wrapping it around your throat. When you pulled away from the kiss his eyes were full of hunger and desire, but no malice. Even the grip around your throat was loose enough you had no trouble breathing, but strong enough you could feel his power.

In a flash, you once again found yourself on your back, Steven’s hand still wrapped around your throat. His cock had slipped from your pussy, but he spread your legs wide, teasing your entrance. Steven leaned down close.

“Be careful playing with a god of the sun, little lamb. Or you may wind up burnt.” He warned playfully. But you only smiled up at him, saying “I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty. With wax melted, I'd meet the sea, my sunlight.”

Kissing you passionately, Steven pushed his cock even further in you and making you gasp, feeling like you were going to split in two. He started to move his hips, pulling his cock out slowly, letting you feel every inch before thrusting back in hard. His hand went between your legs, finding your swollen clit and rubbing it. You were already so sensitive from your last orgasm; you both knew it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge. And you could tell Steven was getting closer to when his pace picked up and his thrusts became harder and faster.

“I’m going to fill you, dove. Bind you to me so that we are one heart, thrust one mind thrust one soul.” He grunted. “Forever.”

“Yes…yes…please…I’m yours Steven.” You cried; your hand wrapped around his that was around your throat. You were so warm; every stroke of his cock inside you stoked the flames of desire and lust.

“Cum for me, star. Cum for your god.” Steven said, moaning as he chased his own release. You came even harder than you had earlier as Steven stilled above you and you could feel his cum filling you, making you moan even more.

For a few moments, there was just the sounds of the two of you heavy breathing, your hearts beating together. You felt your muscles tense and relax as you seemed to almost melt into the bed. You opened your eyes to see Steven smiling down at you before he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Someday, my love. I’ll have to paint you like this.” Your mind was hazy in post orgasmic fog, and you could only nod. He gathered you in his arms and, still joined together, moved you two together so that you were laying on your sides. Now, in this moment of post coital bliss, you were able to see his face closely. He seemed ageless but weathered at the same time. Like a man who had seen or knew too much.

“I still don’t know if I’m suited to be the lover of a god. My own parents didn’t even want me.” You said. Steven sighed.

“Do not think too harshly of them dove. I saw your parents. Your father was sick, your mother was destitute. They brought you to my temple in hopes of a better future.” You thought on his words. For years, the girls at the temple tormented you, convincing you that you were unwanted, unloved. Now to hear the truth, relief washed over you and you seemed more at peace than ever before. A few tears threatened to fall over. But Steve kissed your cheeks. “Such a weepy bride I have” he joked. You smiled.

“I was often teased for my sensitive nature.” You admitted.

“I know. And it wounded me every time you spoke to me about when it occurred. But it is never a weakness to show compassion and care. That is why I chose you for my bride.”

“You know, I don’t recall an actual engagement.” You teased.

“You’re right. I suppose I’ll have to ask you.” He leaned in close. “One letter at a time...on your pussy.” You squeaked and he smiled, kissing your forehead. “Trust your god little one. I promise you shall want or need for nothing. I will love you and hold you close to my heart for all eternity.” Keeping to his word, he held you closer to his chest and you noticed the blankets had surrounded the two of you. “Rest now, little dove. When you awaken, there will be a great feast to celebrate and welcome you as my bride.” And there you slept. In your shared comfort and warmth.

#bunbun's spooptober collection #halloween #halloween fanfics #steve rogers x reader #mythology au #god!steve rogers #steve rogers fics #steve rogers #chris evans fics

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