#a doorknob that rips open the fabric of space and time to lead to a cosy little office lighted by a nice drawing of sunrise on one wall

[artemis-ches]

So i'm slowly catching up with Candela Obscura and Tide and Bone, and shoutout to @quiddie for the amazing world and characters you give life to there. The glimpses we got of Oldfaire and the bits and pieces of magic were just *chief kiss*.

Thanks a lot for that.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Closer (Lady Dimitrescu x Reader)

Smut

Song: Closer by In This Moment

You sat in front of your mirror and fixed your outfit to look just right for Alcina. She was dealing with some pesky man that Heisenberg let slip through his fingers. Hopefully, it wouldn’t have taken too much longer. Daniela and the other girls were absolutely terrible at taking care of the baby that had been dropped off, so that was added to your duties around the house. Even if it was tiring, you had to admit that you were glad to actually have a role other than Alcina’s “pet.” 

“But Mother,” Daniela’s voice called out from the other side of the door. Alcina’s footsteps were light, much lighter than you’d expect from a being of her stature. You could still hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floors. 

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before turning to grab your robe. You shrugged it over your shoulders and loosely tied it. The midnight blue lingerie set that you had managed to sneak into the house was barely covered by the black silk robe that Alcina had ordered for you. You stared at the door in the mirror as you picked up a comb and began to comb through your hair. 

“There are no buts about it. There are three of you and one of him,” Alcina told Daniela. The doorknob creaked as she turned it and pushed the door open. Alcina ducked under the doorframe as she sauntered into the room. The door shut behind her and she walked over to where you were sitting. 

“Is your pest problem taken care of?” you asked Alcina as she leaned over you to hang her hat on the edge of your mirror. 

“For tonight, it is not a concern. I have a much better subject to focus on.” Alcina’s voice was teasing and playful. You loved it whenever she was in such a good mood. 

“Whatever could you mean Lady Dimitrescu?” you asked her as you dramatically fanned yourself. You turned your neck to the side and watched as her eyes traced along your jugular. 

“You seem very coy tonight. No use playing around when I can sense how badly you want me,” Alcina told you. She pulled you onto your feet and enveloped you in her warm embrace. It was soothing and you allowed yourself to completely relax against her body. She turned you around so that you were facing the mirror once again. 

Alcina made sure that you were watching her as she untied the rope to your robe. The silk parted ways and you felt a chill as the air hit your skin. Alcina placed her right hand just above your left hip bone so that her arm was draped across your body. Slowly, she dragged your hand up and across your torso until she was groping your breast. Alcina moved her hand up a bit more until it was over your chest. 

Then, she leaned down and whispered to you, “Does your heart race for me?” 

“Always,” you told her as you stared into the reflection of her eyes. Alcina pulled you away from the mirror and laid you out on the bed. She took great care in moving you, like she did not want to break her fragile little human woman. You normally hated being thought of as fragile, but Alcina did not do it in a way that made you feel patronized. 

“Good.” Alcina leaned down and pressed her lips to your neck. You felt her tongue dart out and lick over your pulse point. Alcina brought her head up again and you couldn’t help but to pull her towards you for a kiss. She was quick to take control over the kiss. You did not mind, it was often much easier for you to follow her lead instead of trying to keep her on edge in regards to what you were going to do next. 

Alcina’s hands moved up the sides of your body before dipping behind your back. You winced a little at the sound of fabric ripping and the feeling of a her nails scratching your back. You broke the kiss to hiss at the slight pain you were feeling. Alcina nipped at your bottom lip before trailing her kisses down your neck and to your newly exposed breasts. 

“Fuck,” you swore as she bit the underside of your breast. You felt her teeth piercing your skin and just as quickly as the pain had been there, her tongue was running over the wounds to soothe you. You moaned at the familiar sensation and whined at the loss of contact when she decided to continue trailing kisses down your body. 

Unlike with what she had done with your bra, Alcina did not use her claws to tear your underwear. Instead, she took great care with removing those. That gave you a chance to admire her before she did something to your body that would deter your ability to focus. 

“You are such a beautiful creature,” Alcina told you. “You look at me like I’ve still got a soul to sell. You’ve allowed me to ruin you time and time again. The things that I’ve done to you, they’re not good.” 

“My existence has always been flawed, but you bring me closer to God,” you told Alcina. That managed to break the whatever power had been holding her back. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around her neck as she slid her hand in between your legs. 

She hummed as she felt how absolutely soaking you were. You moved your hips in time with how her fingers were surging in and out of you. Alcina leaned down a bit and placed her lips on your neck. For a moment, she didn’t do anything, but then you felt her teeth pierce your neck. The timing was perfect, she began to drink from you just as you approached your orgasm. 

Your body twitched in her arms. The more she drank, the harder you came around her fingers. Your body felt light and like you were floating. A fear that Alcina would let go of you and you’d get lost in space washed over your body as she moved her mouth from your neck. You clung to her with the bit of strength you had left as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was true what you had told her, there was nothing closer to heaven than when Alcina had her way with you. 

[joonie-beanie]

Feline Charms

Pairing: Satan x Reader

Word Count: 5,753

Preview: After sneaking into Satan's room to return a book for Mammon, you end up coming in contact with a charm that turns you into a cat. Everything starts off innocently enough, but...

“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”

"I..."

"If you admit it, I'll give you what you what."

"What do you think I want?"

“I think you want me to be rough with you. I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/6/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

This is all Mammon’s fault.

…as things usually are.

The Avatar of Greed had begged you for a favor; “ya gotta take this book back to Satan’s room for me. He’s pissed because I haven’t given it back yet—but if you’re the one who takes it, then at least you’ll make it out alive!”

So, you’d agreed out of the kindness of your heart, and had made your way to Satan’s room. After knocking and receiving no response, you debated taking the book back to Mammon and telling him you had tried. Instead, you test the doorknob, and are surprised to find that it’s unlocked.

With all the precious books Satan treasures so dearly inside his room, he tends to lock the door when he’s not home. After all, the last thing he needs to deal with is another body-switching incident, or worse.

For a moment, you hesitate. You don’t want to invade his space without permission, but…all you need to do is take a few steps in, set the book down, and leave. What could possibly go wrong?

Pushing the door open, you cautiously pad your way into the book laden room. You fear that simply leaving the book on one of the many stacks won’t be obvious enough. It will likely blend in, and as annoying as Mammon is at times, you don’t want Satan to maim him.

So, you opt for placing the book somewhere more obvious—like Satan’s desk on the other end of the room. Making your way over, you place the book directly in the center of the flat wooden surface, and then rip a piece of paper out of the notepad resting nearby.

A gift from Mammon –Y/N

You smile at your own sense of humor, and set the note on top of the book. Turning, you begin to head for the door, but a flash of gold catches your eye. You pause, walking over to the source of the gleaming metal.

On top a pedestal is a book with a golden charm. You note that the charm is in the shape of a cat—almost like one you’d find hanging off a middle schooler’s backpack--and giggle to yourself.

Despite what Satan says, you know he has a soft spot for felines, and it’s adorable.

Reaching forward, your hands skim the soft white pages of the book. There’s an illustration of a cat in the middle of the page, and you have just enough time to make out the word’s “magic” “charm” and “water” before there’s a clicking sound behind you.

Panicked, you jump, and accidentally stumble—losing your balance. The only thing to help steady you is the pedestal, and you reach out to grab it. However, as you do, you touch the golden charm, and suddenly the world has gone black around you.

What the hell? You think to yourself, aimlessly reaching out. It feels like there’s fabric around you, and after a moment you manage to find some light ahead. Pushing your way through the darkness, you blink at your new surroundings.

It still seems like you’re in Satan’s room, but…everything is…much larger.

“Guess I forgot to lock it,” you hear the Avatar of Wrath mumble, and your blood runs cold. How are you going to explain why you were snooping around in his room?! Returning a book is one thing, but clearly you’d done something wrong, because his room is about 5x bigger than before!

“Satan, I--,” you open your mouth to explain, but the only sound that comes out is a…meow?

Blinking, you hold a hand up in front of you, but instead you only see fur, and a 5 squishy pink toe-beans.

“Oh? How did you get in here?” you hear Satan speak again, and suddenly a hand is tucking beneath your belly. You squeak in surprise, wide eyes turning up to face the blond man now holding you. There’s a perplexed look on his face, but he doesn’t seem mad.

“Satan, it’s me!” you try to say, but again, the words come out as mewls. Satan frowns, leaning in closer.

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” he asks, and you vehemently shake your head. The clear side-to-side motion obviously surprises the Avatar of Wrath.

“Well, you’re a smart one, aren’t you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nod, and Satan takes a few steps forward, placing you gingerly on top of his desk. You sit, staring up at him—so badly wishing you could just explain the situation. At least when he and Lucifer had switched bodies, they’d still been able to communicate.

Unsure what to do, Satan cocks his head to the side and stares back at you.

“Cats, as cute as they are, typically aren’t so…aware,” he mutters to himself. Reaching a hand forward, he rubs your head, and you immediately startle. However, after a second you realize how soothing the feeling is, and can’t help but lean into his touch.

Satan chuckles. “Feel good?” He moves to mess with the furry ears on your head, and you melt at the feeling, a purr rumbling in your chest uncalled upon. The sound startles you, and you know that you should really be focusing on the issue at hand—but damn.

“Y/N would likely be happy to meet you. She loves cats,” he muses to himself, and hearing your name manages to snap you out of it. You duck out from his grasp, taking a step back and staring at him sternly. Satan eyebrows raise.

“What?”

You lift your front paw and then slap it back down on the desk—something akin to a child stomping their foot in dissatisfaction. Satan looks positively bewildered.

Unsure what to do, he attempts to reach for you again, but you dodge his hand. As you do so, you notice the note you had left him nearby, and immediately dash over to it.

“Look!” you cry, your desperation reflected in meow that leaves you. Curious, Satan glances over. He takes the small note into his hands, his eyes scanning over the words. His brows furrow, clearly wondering why the feline that had magically appeared in his room is so adamant about this note, but after a moment realization shines in his eyes.

He looks from the note, to you, and back again. Then, his eyes stray to the other side of the room, where the book with the golden charm is now laying face-down on his floor.

“…Y/N?” he questions, as if not believing it himself. You nod, your head hanging in both embarrassment and relief. You’re glad that Satan is smart, because if it were anyone else, you’re not sure they would have thought twice about your un-feline-like reactions.

Sighing, the Avatar of Wrath brings his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess…you came to return Mammon’s book for him because he’s a coward, accidentally touched the charm on the other book, and now you’re a cat?”

You meow your affirmation, and Satan shakes his head—a tiny chuckle sneaking past his lips.

“Of course.”

Turning, he moves to pick up the book that obviously contains some sort of magic, and moves to sit in a chair nearby. Curious, you pad your way over to the edge of the desk and watch him.

“I just got this book recently. I knew that the charm hanging on it contained a spell, so I was being careful not to touch it, but…,” he trails off, and you feel your ears flatten in embarrassment. Satan notices, and reaches over to pet your head. Again, the feeling is strange to you, but not unwelcome. If anything, you want to sprawl out and let him run his hands over your fur, but…that seems a bit strange, even if you are trapped in the body of a cat at the moment.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll blame Mammon,” he says, trying to cheer you up, and it works.

Turning his attention back to the book, Satan quickly scans through the pages. Your curiosity gets the best of you as you watch him, and you daringly hop off the desk onto the arm of the chair. Satan blinks in surprise, watching you as you unthinkingly make your way onto his lap. You take a seat on his thigh, your innocent gaze peering up at the book, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I won’t turn you back,” he says, his fingers moving to rub your ears once more. “You’re very cute like this.”

You whine at his words, head turning to look at him. Your eyes are nearly begging, and despite himself, Satan lowers his book and bends down to kiss the top of your head.

If you were human, you’re sure your face would be the color of a tomato.

“I’m joking. Give me a few minutes to read. I haven’t gotten to the section about spell nullification yet.”

You nod, understanding, and patiently wait.

Sure enough, after a short while, Satan makes a satisfied grunt, and closes the book. You jump up in excitement, looking back at him. He responds by picking you up—cradling you against his chest as he begins to pad across his room.

“Unfortunately, it seems that I can’t break the spell. It will wear off naturally within the next 24 hours. However, according to the text, there is a way to lessen the effects.”

Your ears perk up curiously at that, your eyes taking in your surroundings as Satan leads you up a spiral staircase and to a part of his room you’ve never seen before. At the top of the stairs, you find a nook with another chair and another book shelf. Just beyond it is a doorway, and as he traverses the threshold, you note that the inside of the adjoining room is much cleaner—a perfectly made bed positioned against the middle of the far wall.

However, Satan doesn’t lead you to the mattress. Instead, he diverts to another doorway, and beyond it you find a bathroom. It’s spotless—a spacious, dark tiled shower located in the corner. The walls of the shower are clear glass, and Satan makes his way to the door—pulling it open.

You watch him eagerly as he reaches inside, turning on the water. Immediately droplets begin to rain down from the showerhead—and he places his hand into the stream, waiting for it to warm.

You meow up at him, wondering what he’s doing.

“Water, apparently, is an aid to nullification,” he explains.

After a few seconds, steam begins to fog up the glass walls, and Satan bends to set you on the ground.

“Go on,” he tells you when you stare up at him. However, your instincts are screaming at you to run away. You’re pretty sure it’s because you’re a cat—and cats hate water—but no matter the logic you try and convince yourself with, your body doesn’t move.

Satan frowns. “What?”

You shake your head, fur standing on end as you back away from the evil shower. Realization dawns on the demon, and he sighs—finally getting a bit irritated.

“You don’t want to go in the water because you’re a cat?”

You whine in affirmation, taking another step back. The Avatar of Wrath narrows his eyes.

Abruptly, he reaches down and grabs the hem of his green sweater. You stare in shock as he pulls the fabric over his head—his blond hair messy at the action. Next, he undoes his belt, and slips off his shoes and socks—tossing them to the side.

It’s in that moment that you realize what he’s planning, and without thinking twice, you make a break for the door. Seriously, if you were in your right mind, you would have just gotten in the shower. After all, it’s not like you want to stay a cat! But your feline nature is affecting your actions, and right now, warning alarms are sounding in your head.

“Oh, no,” he speaks up, closing the bathroom door in your face before you can escape. You bristle, turning and trying to find somewhere to hide, but he scoops you up before you can. Satan holds you tightly to his chest, making his way back to the shower, and you push against him. Your claws draw lines in the skin on his chest, and he gives you a little squeeze in warning.

“Stop. Don’t make me punish you,” he growls, finally pulling the door to the shower open and stepping inside. You cry out as the hot water washes over you—struggling against him to break free and escape—but Satan has no intention of letting you go.

You feel your claws sink into his skin once more, and you see anger beginning to seep onto his face—but before either of you can react, something happens. The world around you blurs, and when you regain your bearings, you find your face just inches from Satan’s.

He’s still holding you tightly, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that you’re…

Your cheeks flush deep pink as you experimentally move—feeling your wet breasts slip against his chest.

…oh god. You’re naked.

“Satan, I--,” you babble out, intending to apologize, but when you look back up, Satan captures your lips with his own. You startle, goosebumps rising on your skin as he loosens his hold on you—one of his hands moving to rest on your hip as the other moves to tangle in your hair.

“Mm­--!” you cry when he sternly yanks on the wet strands, effectively deepening the angle of the kiss. His tongue claims your mouth as his own—swallowing up your whines—and despite yourself, you begin to feel arousal swirl in your gut.

“I told you to stop. You didn’t,” he speaks after pulling back, his displeased emerald eyes boring into you.

You know from experience that Satan’s anger appears as if flipping a switch, but this is the first time he’s responded like…this.

“I…,” you blush, unable to look away. “I didn’t want to fight you, but my instincts…”

He stares at you for a few long seconds, his grip on your hair gradually loosening, before he sighs and releases you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching past you to turn off the water. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, blushing. Your arms raise and hug your chest—thighs pressing together—and suddenly Satan is turning red as well. For a second there, he’d forgotten that you’re, um…ahem.

“I’ll grab you a towel,” he says, pushing the shower door open and stepping out. He rummages around in a nearby cabinet and you hesitantly follow after him—stepping out onto the cold tile floor. When he turns back and notices you standing there, you note that his eyes do a quick rake of your body before he hurriedly averts his gaze.

“Here,” he says, holding the towel out.

“Thanks,” you respond, taking it from him. He idles for a moment, seemingly lost. And to be fair, you’re not quite sure how to act in this situation either. It’s not like you had ever expected to be naked in Satan’s bathroom after accidentally turning into a cat.

“I’ll, uh, let you dry off,” he eventually speaks, coughing, and turns to leave. You nod, waiting until he’s gone to start drying yourself off. You start with your arms—quickly brushing the towel down your front, and then your legs. It’s not until you move to run the towel down your back that you jump in surprise—a certain spot above your tailbone unexpectedly sensitive.

What the--, you think, stepping in front of the mirror nearby. What you find causes a small cry to slip from your lips.

“Y/N?” you hear Satan question from the other room. Quickly, without really thinking, you reach for the nearest piece of dry clothing—shove it over your head—and then burst out of the bathroom.

“I have ears!!” you exclaim, appearing inside the bedroom in nothing but Satan’s sweater. “And a tail!”

The Avatar of Wrath stares at you with wide eyes, his brain trying to process the sight in front of him. If your outburst isn’t startling enough, seeing you standing there—barely covered by his shirt—definitely raises the stakes.

“I did say water would cure only some of the effects,” he tells you, and it’s in that moment that you realize he’s standing just feet away from you in nothing more than a fresh pair of boxer-briefs. Your eyes drag down his toned torso, pausing when you notice a bulge in the fabric, angled against his thigh.

Satan notices where you're looking, and is about ready to apologize again—making excuses regarding why he’s rock solid—when he notices that your tail is waving behind you. Pausing, he glances up to your face, and finds that your pupils are dilated as well.

Clarity washes over him, and a wicked grin spreads on his lips.

“Did you like it? When I kissed you in the shower?” he asks, posing a hand on his hip. The cocky look on his face catches you off guard. How is he able to so easily switch between being kind, and…sadistic.

“W-What? Why are you asking?” you retort, cheeks flushing pink. Your hands grip the soft fabric of his sweater as he takes a step forward.

“Can you not feel it? The way your tail is wagging behind you—like you’re ready to pounce. Did you enjoy the outcome of me getting frustrated with you?”

You can feel your heart thundering in your chest—embarrassed, and nervous, but…the way he’s speaking also has arousal pooling between your legs.

“I…”

He’s bearing down on you now, one of his hands lifting to tenderly rub against your cheek. You can’t take your eyes off of him—watching his face carefully as he wraps his other arm around your waist, dragging you into him.

“If you admit it, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, his fingers lightly coasting up the skin on your face. You feel his touch on your ears—ears that are fuzzy, and usually not on your head—and the sensitivity of them has you gasping quite loudly.

You attempt to escape his touch (despite your instincts, which are currently screaming at you to let him continue, because god it feels so good), but Satan isn’t letting you go anywhere. With his arm wrapped around you—you’re stuck. There’s no way you can beat him in a game of strength.

“What do you think I want?” you manage to respond, mustering up a bit of courage. It’s not in your nature to just let someone talk to you like that without teasing them back. Satan, however, is blunt with his rebuttal.

“I think you want me to be rough with you.” His fingers leave your ear, moving down to wrap around your throat. His grip is firm—not enough to choke you—but you still feel light-headed nonetheless.

“I think that despite attributing it to a natural feline reaction, you enjoyed the repercussions of our little chase in the bathroom.”

He takes a step forward, and your back hits the doorframe. Still, you’re unable to look away from him—his bright eyes full of unspoken promises.

“I never thought of you as the type to get off on being dominated, but I can see now that I pegged you wrong. You’d love to be used until you’re just a toy with no thoughts of your own, wouldn’t you?”

Your breathing has picked up now—fanning in hot puffs between your bodies. Each of his words causes sinful scenarios to bloom within your mind—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing—hot, and aching to be filled.

“But…if I’ve got it all wrong, just tell me to stop, and I will,” he says, taking a small step back. However, you don’t want him to stop. You desperately want more.

Without missing a beat, you close the gap he had created—your lips greedily capturing his own as you lift your hands to cup his face. Yet, as soon as you touch him, Satan is pushing you away—your back roughly hitting the wall behind you.

His fingers tighten around your neck.

“If you want more, I expect a verbal response.”

“Please touch me,” you respond, breathless. Satan leans in, your lips nearly touching, and he looks you in the eye.

“Tell me how. If I’m not satisfied, you won’t get anything.”

“I…,” your mouth feels dry—brain amiss with the amount of desperation currently afflicting you. You’ve never needed to be touched so badly before. If Satan doesn’t fulfill your desires, you’re not sure what you’ll do.

“I want—,” your words are cut off as a gasp involuntarily escapes your mouth. Satan’s other hand has found its way between your legs—two fingers rubbing between your soaking folds.

“D-Didn’t you just say I wouldn’t get anything?” you question, thighs clenching against his hand—desperate for more. He cocks an eyebrow at you, an infuriating smile on his lips.

“Does this really count as something?”

His fingers tease at your entrance, barely dipping into your pussy. Even if you think of grinding down to force him deeper, his hold on your neck prevents you from doing so—and you whine as he pulls his fingers away—simply continuing to tease your womanhood while neither touching your clit nor pushing his digits inside of you.

“I would suggest saying what’s on your mind, Y/N. You shouldn’t be a mindless slut just yet, considering I haven’t really touched you.”

His words have you feeling warm all over, but you decide to listen.

“I want you inside of me,” you say, starting off innocently enough. You’ve never verbally been lewd before—the idea of telling someone what you want them to do to you while they’re standing right there is a bit terrifying—but you know if you don’t start somewhere, you’ll never get what you want.

“I want you to finger fuck me until my knees buckle, and I’m begging you to let me cum.” You get braver with every word, and when you feel Satan’s cock strain against your stomach—trapped in the tight space between your bodies—a wave of satisfaction emboldens you.

“Your sweater smells like you—so very good—and I want you to rip me out of it. To punish me for wearing what’s yours without permission. I want your hands on me—pushing me down into your mattress and grabbing my hips as you fuck me with little regard for my own pleasure—only chasing after your own.”

Satan’s breathing is a bit gruffer now—his face burying against your shoulder as his hand drops away, coming to momentarily rest near your hip. You feel his canines scrape the flesh on your neck—his hand sneaking beneath the hem of his sweater and dragging upward—and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your confidence momentarily falters—a hot wave of arousal jumbling your thoughts—but you continue.

“I want you to have your way with me knowing that what I desire doesn’t matter. You’re in charge, and I have no say—just the way it should be. The Avatar of Wrath’s personal little pet.”

Without warning, he bites down on your skin—two of his fingers slipping inside of your pussy at the same time. A breathless whine escapes you—pain and pleasure mingling—and when you attempt to grind your hips down on his hand, he nips at you again.

Immediately you cease all movements, wincing at the sting, but you’d be lying if you said the pain didn’t turn you on. And Satan knows it does. He can feel your pussy clenching around him, getting even wetter as he soothes his tongue over the marks on your neck.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad--,” he speaks up, mumbling hotly against you, “—if you kept the ears, and tail. I could put a collar on you—let everyone know that you’re my personal property. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance—his lips moving to capture your own as his digits thrust between your walls. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, swallowing the moans that rip from your throat—his pace ruthless as he fingers fucks you. But he knows it’s what you want—your pussy positively drenched for him—lewd sounds permeating the room with each flick of his wrist.

His other hand finds your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly and causing you to whine. Satan’s touches are sure to leave you sore and bruised, but the idea of having marks to remind you of this moment for days to come is undeniably appealing.

“S-Satan,” you gasp, your knees beginning to buckle. You’re already racing towards your climax—his fingers pressing into your sweet spot with every jab.

“Are you already going to cum?” he asks, placing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw. Your head is spinning, but you manage to nod.

Satan hums. “Should I let you cum?”

“Please.” Your voice is raw with desperation—your head pressing back against the doorframe as the dam holding your orgasm at bay threatens to collapse. Weakly, your hand raises to grab Satan’s arm—your fingernails digging into his skin.

He chuckles, placing a tease of a kiss against your jaw.

“Cum then.”

And you do—mouth opening into a silent scream as you release around his fingers. He pumps you through it—pace slowing to drag out the waves of pleasure. And finally, once you’re able to breathe again—your head slumping forward against Satan’s shoulder—he pulls his hand from between your thighs.

You feel him wipe his soaking digits on your leg, smearing your own juices against your skin. It’s an embarrassing realization—that you had drenched his hand with your arousal—but you don’t get long to think on it, because both his arms wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hefts you up—your arms instinctively raising to wrap around his neck as your legs dangle on either side of his torso.

You can feel his clothed erection pressing at your womanhood—and you realize that despite cumming—there’s no way you’re done.

“Don’t regret what you said earlier about letting me use you,” he whispers into your ear, and turns towards the bed. Within seconds, you find yourself thrown onto the soft sheets—the Avatar of Wrath flipping you onto your stomach.

There’s movement on the mattress behind you, and then Satan’s hands are reaching forward to grab your hips. He forces you onto your knees—dragging your ass backwards—and without warning, something quite large shoves between your walls.

“Mm--!” you bite your lip, fingers grasping at the sheets as Satan begins chasing his own release. His hips smack against your ass, rattling the bedframe with each movement, and despite yourself, pleasure begins building in your gut once more.

“Look at you,” Satan speaks, a little breathless. “So submissive, and perfect.”

You whine at his words, thighs shaking as the intensity of his love-making begins to overwhelm you. If it weren’t for Satan’s grip on your hips, you’d be slack against the sheets—twitching, and taking a much-needed breather.

But this isn’t about you. Right now, it’s about him, and you both know it. It’s Satan’s turn to do whatever he wants. It’s the least you can give him, considering he’d already let you cum, right?

“Do you think you can cum again?” he asks, and you shake your head no. He chuckles, one of his hands reaching around to toy with your clit. The stimulation immediately has you crying out—pussy tightening around him and forcing a grunt from his throat.

“Let’s see, shall we?”

The next few minutes are a blur—your mind spiraling into incoherency as Satan’s dick stretches and fills you in all the right ways. With his fingers rubbing circles at your clit, you’re brought back to the brink of orgasm quicker than you’d imagined—the pleasure beginning to tip into overstimulation.

“Please please please please,” you chant, forcing yourself to clench around him. Satan groans, retaliating with a brutal thrust that has tears pricking at your eyes. You’re not sure if you want to cum, or simply want him to cum so you can finally catch your breath.

“Shit,” he curses, beginning to fall apart around the edges. His fingers work at your clit even faster than before, and you choke on a cry—attempting to pull your hips away—but he doesn’t let you.

With a guttural moan tearing from your throat, he forces another orgasm from your spent body. You go limp—any remaining strength fading from your limbs, and Satan drags you back onto his cock a few more times before his pace falters, and he finds his bliss as well.

When his touch disappears from you, you immediately collapse onto your side—covered in sweat—your clit twitching with aftershocks. Your eyes are closed, yet they open tiredly when you feel a palm cup your cheek.

Satan is sat in front of you now, a tinge of concern showing in his emerald eyes. Since you can’t move, you simply lean into his touch, and he breathes a laugh.

“I tend to forget that humans are so fragile…”

“I’m not fragile,” you respond, smiling a little. “I’m just exhausted. You gave me the fucking of a lifetime—how am I supposed to act after an experience like that?”

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance up to find a perplexed look on Satan’s face. It’s almost as if he feels…guilty.

“Hey,” you speak up, catching his attention. You beckon him forward with a nod of your head, and Satan complies—scooting to lay next to you. Once close enough, you reach your arms forward and hug his head to your chest.

“I really enjoyed that,” you tell him honestly. “Please don’t feel bad.”

“I…it’s hard for me to control my nature, sometimes,” he admits, but relaxes into your embrace. “While it feels good to give in, I don’t like the idea that I did anything without your consent first.”

“I know that if I had asked you to stop, you would have. So, don’t worry, Satan. We’re fine.”

At your reassurance, he sighs quite loudly, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your breast.

“Will you stay here? Tonight?”

You laugh. “You would have been stuck with me either way. I can’t move at all right now.”

He snorts, his blond hair tickling your chin, and you continue thoughtfully. “Well, I guess you could have carried me back to my room. But then you run the risk of running into the others—and having to explain why I can’t walk and have ears and a tail. And I don’t think you want that.”

“The others don’t get to see this,” he speaks up seriously, pushing onto his forearm and catching your gaze. “I want these moments to only be mine.”

His words cause a blush to spread on your cheeks, and you avert your eyes.

“That’s quite greedy of you. I thought you were the Avatar of Wrath, Satan.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Will you let them be mine?”

Shyly, you nod, and Satan smiles with satisfaction.

“I’ll get a wet rag, and some clothes for you to sleep in,” he says, and disappears from your side. You hear him padding around the room, but you’re too tired to move an inch. Eventually, you feel a warm cloth on your thighs, and a soft shirt being pulled over your head, but the minutes blur together. You’re exhausted, and as soon as Satan returns to his bed—his arm resting across your waist as he settles in beside you—you’re out like a light.

In the morning—

“Oi! Y/N!” Mammon’s loud call startles you as you step foot into the dining hall. He presses up from his seat, hurrying towards you. The other brothers are already gathered around the table—Satan included, and he watches the interaction silently.

“Where the hell were you last night? I went knocking at your door and you never came to answer. I thought Satan had killed ya!”

“LMAO but you were too scared to go to Satan’s room and check,” Levi butts in, causing Mammon to flush bright red.

“I ain’t scared ‘a him!” he denies, pointing a finger at the 4th eldest brother. Satan ignores the outburst, but from his side, Asmodeus hums happily. There’s a sparkle in his eye.

“I don’t know, Mammon, I would be. I could have sworn I heard Y/N screaming when I walked past Satan’s door last night~”

Asmo’s comment has heat creeping up your neck, but Satan’s response gives nothing away.

“She decided to stay and read a book from my collection. I realized she was getting to a scary part, and decided to play a prank on her. She didn’t really appreciate it.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to you expectantly, and you laugh—your hand rubbing at your neck.

“Sorry if I worried you…I’m really bad with scary things.”

There’s a look on Asmo’s face that tells you he doesn’t buy your excuse one bit, but nevertheless, he decides to roll with it.

“Ooo~ If that’s the case then I say we have a scary movie night soon! I want to hold Y/N in my lap and make her feel safe while watching~”

“That might be the most dangerous spot to be,” Belphegor mumbles, and Asmodeus feigns hurt. At the same time, immediately Mammon is yelling about how you’re under his watch, and no one is allowed to touch you but him. That draws responses of indignation from an array of people at the table, but in the middle of it all, Satan raises a hand to hide his smile.

His eyes meet yours, his emerald orbs flashing with something akin to mirth, and you know that even while the others argue about who has the right to touch you—from here on out, your most intimate moments will be reserved for Satan.

And that, you don’t have any problem with. 

[boltwrites]

Afterparty

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (AFAB, fem) Rating: E Tags: Rough, Semi-Public

Anon Requested: requests open?!😍 okay thenn. Maybe a bolin x reader nsfw 😳 they’re at some avatar party thing idk and they’ve been flirty & handsy all night. They sneak off to an empty room trope. They’re all giggly and excited about being so risky. You can do whatever you want with this, just food for thought !!! Luv your writing btw;)

A/N: I labeled this as fem!reader only because reader wears a dress - everything else is gender neutral afab. hope you enjoy!

By clicking read more you verify that you are at least 18 years old

The gala in Korra’s honor was wonderful. There was dancing, and fancy food, and Korra looked stunning, her arm wrapped around Asami. She smiled so bright, returning to the city after such a long absence, and you were so glad to see her happy again.

But, as happy as you were for your friend, you couldn’t pay attention to your success. This was the first time you had seen Bolin in a peaceful setting since his last leave, which was at least three months ago. Your heartbeat fluttered in your chest as he led you through the crowd, his arm wrapped around your waist as he introduced you to old friends and you caught up with the other members of team Avatar. But even as you said your hellos and exchanged pleasantries, you could feel Bolin steadily rubbing circles against you with his thumb. Your dress was thin, and even the gentle pressure sent shivers through you.

It only worsened when you were seated for dinner. Bolin sat next to you, his lips quirked into a half smile as he set his hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. You gasped – you knew Bolin never wanted to stop touching you, he was always a handsy boyfriend – but he usually kept it family friendly. The glances he stole were anything but, tinged with longing, with a promise of more as his hand slid further up your thigh.

You gripped your silverware with an iron fist, biting your lip as he traced patterns against your dress. You knew it was too long for him to slide his hand under it, but you felt your legs part nonetheless. It had been so long since you had been with him – maybe you should have skipped the fancy party and stayed at home instead, spread out on the bed for him, ready and waiting.

Instead, he teased you, chatting jovially with Tenzin and some of the other airbenders at your table while his touches drew ever closer to your heat, and you had to bite your lip to avoid making any noises as you desperately tried to enjoy your dinner. You had half a mind to hike your dress up right then and there, but there was a table behind you, so you didn’t dare for fear of being caught.

After dinner, all bets were off though, as everyone flooded the dance floor. Bolin grabbed your wrist, trying to lead you to it, but you planted your feet, shaking your head.

“What, don’t you wanna dance?” he asked, trying to sound innocent, even though his pupils were blown.

“I do… but not out in front of everyone else. I’m shy,” you teased, pulling Bolin closer. Soon you two stood chest to chest, his hands cradling your waist as you quirked an eyebrow at him. His breath hitched, and he looked like a kid in a candy store before he squared his jaw and nodded. You giggled as he grabbed your wrist and headed in a different direction.

He ducked down a hallway, trying different doors. You giggled, giddy at the idea of doing something so scandalous with Bolin. Usually he was a very deliberate and gentle lover, but now he was almost frantic as he wiggled doorknobs until one finally opened.

“A-ha!” he cried, pushing open the door to an old coat closet. You hid your face with a hand as you snorted, his enthusiasm contagious.

“How romantic,” you swooned, sarcastically, and Bolin just grinned, tugging on your hips as he backed into the tiny space. You followed him, closing the door behind you. It was dark in the closet, but just enough light filtered in through the cracks in the doorframe to see your boyfriend’s twinkling eyes, his amazed smile, so shocked that you agreed to do this with him.

“It’s not the best spot, I know,” he admitted, turning you both so he could press you against the wall, his head knocking a few of the unused hangers together, the wood clacking together in the quiet of the closet. “But I couldn’t wait. You look too good like this.”

“I can’t wait either,” you replied, tangling your fingers in his hair. Bolin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as your other hand cradled his jaw. “I almost feel sorry that I couldn’t congratulate Korra.”

“You didn’t see?” Bolin asked, his eyes fluttering open just to smirk at you. “She left with Asami right after dinner.”

“Hmm, great minds think alike,” you chuckled, your hands falling to the lapels of Bolin’s suit, tugging him forward. He stumbled into you, and you drew him into a searing kiss, licking into his lips as soon as they touched yours. He moaned soft, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing closer to you, his fingers tracing up your back, his hands sending sparks along your exposed skin. You gasped into the kiss and Bolin took charge, showing you exactly how much he missed you.

When you pulled away you were both panting, the kiss far too intense. You tugged lightly at Bolin’s soft hair and he groaned, ducking down to kiss against your neck.

“Careful,” you gasped, your lips quirking in a playful smirk as you hitched a leg around his waist. “You might leave a mark.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he mumbled against your skin, punctuated with a sweet, open mouthed kiss to your collar that was sure to leave a bruise. You shook, moaning sweet at his attention.

You clutched at his shoulders, still covered by far too many layers of clothing. You groaned as Bolin kisses down your shoulder, your chest, because while it felt so good, it wasn’t what you were looking for.

“Bo, please, I need you,” you pleaded, pressing his hips to yours. You felt him there, hard and ready against your hip, and you wanted so badly to feel him. He pulled away from your neck only to kiss you roughly, grinding against your touch as you squeezed his ass.

“Need you too,” he breathed, kissing you deep as he removed his hands from you to work at the buttons of his pants. You whimpered, clutching at his back and grinding your hips to his thigh until he was finished. He grabbed at your dress, hitching up the fabric until his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your underwear.

He slid them down, and you wiggled them the rest of the way off, tossing them away with a swift kick. You were too focused on Bolin now, the feel of his lips on yours, the soft noises he made against your tongue.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you firm against the wall of the closet. You knew him too well, clutching at his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, and he easily managed the position, cradling your head as he pressed you to the wall.

“Ready for me?” he asked, always a gentleman. You nodded, before you realized that he couldn’t see you in the dim light.

“Yes, Bo, please –“ you keened, gasping as he teased against your entrance, and your grip at his shoulders faltered. It had been so long, and the wait might just kill you.

But Bolin didn’t need any more persuading. He pressed in with one firm thrust that had you almost screaming, the cry all but ripped out of you at the perfect feeling of being so full. Bolin moaned low as he pressed in, and once he bottomed out, he stopped to catch his breath, the hand that he used to cushion your head now pressed against your lips.

“Shh,” Bolin shushed you, and while you wished you could make some smart quip about how Bolin was just as loud, it was equally as good to press a kiss to his thumb, almost willing him to slide it into your mouth. He responded with a soft “oh-“ his thumb brushing along your lips until you parted them, licking a long stripe along it before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, moaning around the pressure against your tongue.

“Y/n, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, his legs shaking as he ground against you, his forehead knocking against the wall beside you. You only hummed, sucking on at him and circling your hips back against him. He moaned louder, his hips thrusting against you involuntarily, and you moaned against his thumb, until he removed it abruptly, replacing it with his own lips.

All bets were off after that. Bolin was always a gentle and sweet lover, taking his time to be careful with you, to be tender and loving. But now, with both of you so wound up, something in him snapped, and he thrust into you with a force that took your breath away. You shook in his arms, your grip on his shoulders faltering. He cushioned your head with one hand, grabbing your ass with the other for leverage as he fucked into you with everything he had. You saw stars, his pace so different and rough and amazing that it left you speechless, your moans silent as Bolin muffled his own noises against your shoulder.

Your voice returned to you as his pace stuttered, Bolin gasping against you. You knew he was close, and you tugged against his hair weak, your voice breathless as you pleaded.

“Bo, please-“

He understood you without even thinking, his hand leaving your hair and sliding under your dress to press against you. You keened, smacking your head on the wall, but you didn’t care. Between his pace and fingers, you couldn’t hold on, and you came with a cry of his name, his thrusts never once slowing. It took everything you had to keep upright as he chased his own release, his breathing heavy as his hips stuttered, once, twice, until he spilled inside you. You moaned low at the feel of him, tugging gentle at his hair as he pressed you against the wall, taking a moment to calm yourselves.

“Oh, that was-“ you breathed. You shivered, your muscles aching pleasantly at the rough treatment.

“Hm?” Bolin hummed, still in his post orgasm haze. You kissed his temple, petting through his sweat-slicked hair.

“Really, really good, Bo,” you finished, sighing to yourself at the memory.

You couldn’t return to the party. Not only was your dress ruined, but your legs didn’t work quite right. You didn’t mind heading home early, though. Not when Bolin was looking at you like the only one in the room.

[im-bakugous-bitch]

Katsuki Bakugou - Accident

**A/N hey guys, Sky here!  So I wrote this piece a while back, originally as a Kiribaku fic, but I wanted to post it here so I made it an x reader!  I hope you guys like it!

Katsuki couldn’t take it. Why had All Might chosen stupid Deku? What was so great about him?  He was just some Quirkless loser eight months ago, and now he’s supposed to be the next Symbol of Peace? It was bullshit. He was supposed to be Number One, how could he do that when Deku had All Might’s power running through him?

When he returned to his dorm room, he slammed the door shut behind himself and kicked his trash bin over. “Damn it!” he yelled. How was he supposed to be Number One when his life-long hero had chosen somebody else? And Deku of all people!

Angrily, he turned to face his door. On the back of it was a poster, the single piece of All Might memorabilia he allowed himself to have. He reached for the paper, fingers digging between the door and the laminated paper. His hands formed fists and pulled away from the wall, taking the poster off and dropping it on the floor. “Agh!” he screamed.

Sparks began forming on his fingertips. It should’ve been him. He should blow that stupid Deku to pieces like he’d been dreaming of ever since they were kids. He’d get to take down Icy-Hot too, his only other real competitor.

There was a light knock on the door, causing Katsuki to turn. He didn’t want to see anybody. He didn’t want to be seen in this vulnerable state. “Go away,” he barked out. When the doorknob began to turn, his anger flared even higher. “I said go away!” he yelled.

Standing in the now-open doorway was his girlfriend, y/n. Her eyes were wide with worry, but Katsuki couldn’t see that. All he could focus on was his rage. His hatred for Deku that just kept growing stronger and stronger by the second. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. All his life, all he’d ever worked for was being the top Hero one day. He’d worked for it, Deku was just having it handed to him.

y/n took a step forward, closing the door behind herself. “Katsuki, what’s wrong?” She extended one hand towards her boyfriend, but when she saw just how furious the ash-blond was she retracted her arm.

Katsuki couldn’t tell her. Not only because he promised All Might, but because he was embarrassed. He was always gloating, telling everybody about how he was going to be the best. How was he supposed to tell anybody – especially y/n – that he couldn’t? How was he supposed to explain that he was going to have to take second place, and to Deku of all people! How could he look any of them in the eye? He had to get rid of y/n. She couldn’t see him like this. “Go away,” he growled. He glared up at his girlfriend through lidded red eyes. They could argue about it once he calmed down, but he knew that if they argued while he was riled up, something would happen.

But she didn’t listen. “Katsuki, part of this relationship thing is talking to each other. Talk to me.” She closed the distance between them so she could take her boyfriend’s hands in hers. Her pleading eyes met Katsuki’s, but it didn’t calm him. No, it riled him up even more.

How was he even supposed to look her in the eye? He had become second to some Quirkless nobody! How was she supposed to look at him? How was anybody supposed to? “I don’t wanna talk,” he said, pulling his hands from hers. His hands had been sparking. He couldn’t let y/n touch them or she could get hurt.

“Fine,” said y/n, and she walked over to Katsuki’s bed. It had a plain grey comforter on it, strewn about from his nightly tossing and turning and refusal to make his bed. She sat down on the mattress, patting the space beside her. “Then we won’t talk, we’ll just sit.”

His heart began flaring. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve y/n. He wasn’t good enough. She had fallen for the guy destined to be Number One, and that wasn’t him anymore. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her up off the bed. “Just leave me be!”

Before he knew it, his worst nightmare had come true. His hands felt warmer and warmer as sparks began popping from his fingertips, until a full explosion was unleashed. He watched in horror as y/n flew to the wall, crashing into it and causing a rip in the drywall.

His eyes widened as he processed what he’d just done. “y/n!” he yelled, rushing over to his bed and cradling his girlfriend in his arms. Her head was dripping blood, and there was a large burn mark on her shoulder. The entire fabric of her shirt around the area had been burned away, leaving just the charred edges giving off smoke.

The door flew open, leading to Sero and Ashido standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Their gazes shifted from Katsuki’s horrified face to y/n's unconscious figure, and Ashido screamed.

“y/n!” she yelled, rushing in. She knelt on the bed beside Katsuki and turned towards Sero. “Call the Hospital!”

Tears were already forming in Katsuki’s eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d done it. He’d attacked y/n. When she woke up, she was going to hate him. He couldn’t take it. “I’m so sorry,” he cried out, hugging his girlfriend’s unconscious form to him tightly. “I’m so sorry!”

In the moment, he forgot all about Deku and All Might. He didn’t care that his classmates were seeing him be vulnerable. He didn’t care that they saw the tears on his face. All he could think of was his horror and shame for himself.

Of course he couldn’t be Number One. He’d just attacked his girlfriend accidentally because he was upset.

The next twenty minutes were a blur to Katsuki. He watched helplessly as Aizawa ran into his dorm room and used a surprising amount of strength to pick up the unconscious girl. He followed like a lost puppy, even getting into the back of the ambulance when it finally arrived. The paramedics tried to stop him, but he just kept screaming, “That’s my girlfriend!”

When his thoughts finally caught up to him, he was sitting in the hospital waiting room. His forehead was resting in his open palms, elbows on the arms of the uncomfortable waiting room chair. Tears were streaming down his face. People stared at him and whispered, but for the first time ever he ignored it. He couldn’t focus on them.

y/n was going to hate him, and that was all he could think about.

He’d always been so confident about his control over his Quirk. But something inside of him just…snapped. He broke, and it was going to cost him everything. His everything.

It felt like hours until a doctor came out calling his name. Katsuki shot up out of his chair, rushing towards the doctor. He needed to know that y/n was going to be okay.

“Mr. Bakugou,” the doctor said as she looked down at a clipboard. Her lips pursed tightly together as her eyes scanned a paper before she looked up at him. “Your friend is expected to make a full recovery.”

Katsuki sighed in relief. If she was going to be okay, he could live with that. He could live with being hated. As long as she was okay. “Thank god,” he breathed out.

“I wouldn’t be thanking God just yet,” the doctor said. Katsuki’s red eyes shot up to her, and she continued. “She’s got a serious concussion, could take weeks to heal. Third degree burns on the left shoulder. And she’s got a cracked rib.”

Katsuki’s heart lurched. He felt like he was going to throw up. y/n laid in a hospital bed physically broken because of him.

But it appeared the bad news wasn’t quite over yet. “She’ll be going into surgery in half an hour to fix her rib. If you’d like, you may sit with her until then.”

He should’ve said no. He should’ve turned and walked right out of that hospital, as far from y/n as he could get so he couldn’t hurt her anymore. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he found himself nodding and following as the doctor led him down a seemingly endless corridor, until she pushed a door open.

Katsuki stepped inside and felt his heart shatter more than the believed to be possible.

y/n laid on the bed motionless. A thick layer of gauze was wrapped around her head, and several machines were hooked up to her. Tubes and needles inserted into her arms and chest, all over her body. And her shoulder… Katsuki couldn’t even look at it. He kept his eyes focused on her forehead, then her torso, then the floor.

Slowly, he walked into the room and sat down in one of the chairs beside the bed. He wanted to reach out and just hold y/n's hand, but he restrained himself. That’s how he got into this mess in the first place.

Fresh tears fell down his face, and he hid it in his hands to hide them. “I’m so sorry,” he cried out into his palms. He felt it with all of his heart, he said it with more conviction than he’d said anything before. The apology hung in the air for about ten minutes, until Katsuki heard a light groaning.

“Ka…” Katsuki’s head shot up, to see y/n's eyes had opened. They looked groggy and dazed, but they were her eyes.

“Shh,” said Katsuki. He scooted his chair closer to the bed but didn’t make any move to touch her. “Go back to sleep.”

y/n's  dazed eyes shifted over to Katsuki. “Hey…” Her voice sounded weak and strained as her eyes scanned Katsuki, then fell to get what little view of her shoulder he could without moving her head. “I’m gonna look…so badass,” she said, a light smile creeping onto her face.

Katsuki’s eyes widened. Why was she smiling? She should be yelling at him! She should be breaking up with him and telling him to go away! Why on earth was she smiling?

“y/n…” Their eyes met, and another tear fell from Katsuki’s eye.

“No tears,” she said as his eyes shifted back up to Katsuki.

“You should hate me,” he said quietly. He sat back in his chair, eyes scanning his girlfriend’s injured body once again. “You should be screaming at me to get away from you. You should be telling me I don’t deserve to be in the hospital room with you, or even within ten feet of you.”

A moment of silence hung between them. y/n seemed to be considering what he said, taking it in. It must have been difficult to think with the concussion. “Then…why are you here?”

Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut to prevent another tear. “Because I love you.” This was the first time he’d allowed himself to be truly vulnerable. He and y/n had had heart-to-heart moments in the past, but never like this. Not ones that brought Katsuki to tears, feeling like he had to beg for forgiveness.

y/n's lips twitched slightly upward, into a small smile. “And I love…you too.”

Katsuki stood up from his chair. “Well you shouldn’t!” His voice was getting louder as he spoke, heart beating faster. “I put you in here! Your shoulder is sizzling because I lost my stupid temper!”

She chuckled lightly. “I’m sizzling? What…am I bacon?”

Katsuki nearly facepalmed. She must have been on pain medicine, and probably some extremely powerful ones. She wouldn’t be herself for a long time, and that was what hurt the most: He didn’t know what was real and what was just happy drugged-out y/n. The not knowing…it would eat him alive. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“I love you,” she said. Katsuki opened his eyes slowly, to see his girlfriend’s hand slowly reaching for his. He yanked it away faster than he’d ever moved anything before.

Katsuki swallowed his sob. He wanted nothing more than to hold her hand, but he couldn’t. He didn’t trust himself. “I-I should go,” he said. He turned to the door, and as he moved to take the first step out of the room y/n spoke again.

“Say you love me too.”

Katsuki couldn’t turn to face him. He loved her more than anything, but he had a feeling that once she was herself again, she would hate him just as much as Katsuki loved her. “I love you too,” he said. Without another word, he walked out of the hospital room and back into the waiting room.

He sat back down in the uncomfortable chair. He couldn’t go back to his dorm; he couldn’t bare to look at the hole he’d made by blasting his girlfriend with an explosion.

He lost track of how long he sat in that chair with his head in his hands. It had to have been at least an hour when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Kacchan?” a quiet voice asked.

Katsuki’s heart began racing again. It was Deku. It was his fault he’d lost control. He wasn’t even mad about All Might choosing Deku to be his successor anymore, he was mad that it got him so angry he lost control. He was furious, but in no mood to deal with it. “Fuck off, Deku,” he growled angrily.

He saw the seat beside his dip in and looked up to see the dumbass had sat down next to him.  Before them stood his boyfriend, perfectly healthy and uninjured. It wasn’t fair.

“She’ll be okay,” Deku said in an attempt to reassure Katsuki. But he didn’t want reassurance. He wanted to be left alone. “She’ll be better soon, and everything can go back to how it was. This was just an accident.”

Katsuki lost it. He jumped up out of his seat, palms open and ready to fire off explosions at any second. “How can you say that?!” he yelled. “Nothing will go back to how it was! She’s gonna hate me!”

Deku shook his stupid green head. “No, she won’t.” He stood up from his chair as well and grabbed the hem of his white t-shirt, pulling it up ever-so-slightly. There on his skin, hidden beneath his shirt, was a patch of burnt red skin. “Shoto had an accident once, too. And I don’t hate him.” He reached out and took his boyfriend’s hand in his. “In fact, him worrying about me like that only brought us closer.”

A small explosion fired off of Katsuki’s hand. “You don’t get it!” He turned away from them. He couldn’t stand seeing a happy couple. “He didn’t break one of your stupid ribs, Deku! He didn’t give you a concussion! He didn’t blast you into a fucking wall!” His hands reached up to tangle in his own hair, pulling at it in anger. “He didn’t nearly kill you!”

Slowly, Deku reached out one of his hands to rest on Katsuki’s shoulder. He was too exhausted to push it off. “The doctor said she’s gonna be okay, so focus on that.”

Katsuki slumped back down in his chair, leaning his head back against the wall. “How am I supposed to forget about that?”

“You don’t,” said Todoroki. The first thing he’d said since arriving. “You learn from it. You promise to be better, and you keep that promise.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Kacchan,” Deku said. He let go of his boyfriend’s hand and bent down to level with Katsuki. “It may take some time, but it will be.”

The ash-blond grunted. “You better be right, Deku. Or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Both is Good #1: Lena Saves Kara

So, I saw this post, and obviously my brain went into overdrive. This is the result. 

(content warning for attempted offscreen sexual assault/date rape)

----

“LET GO!”

Lena surges from her desk at the sharp shout that reverberates inhumanly loud against the office buildings and penetrates the quiet of her office after hours.

The instant she steps onto her balcony, her armor seals around her with the ratchet of metal plates locking into place. It feels comfortable and familiar, though her rocket propulsion is still unwieldy for city use. She allows herself a heartbeat to revel in the feeling of flight. 

She’s missed this. She loves her armor, loves the freedom it gives her, but every moment she wears it brings a renewed pang of guilt.

Lena doesn’t use it as much as she used to. Not since… well.

She tilts in the direction of the cry, and propels herself towards the financial quarter. Less than a minute into her flight, Lena’s stomach plummets when her visual display registers a familiar caped figure flying towards her. 

But before she can duck out of sight, Lena notices that Supergirl is flying less than she’s lurching, veering dangerously close to streetlights and one particularly tall building before redirecting. She ping pongs between either side of the street, unaware of Lena’s presence until they nearly collide.

“No!” Supergirl gasps, pulling weakly against the hands Lena braced against her arms. “I-- I said-- I said let go!”

“Supergirl?” Lena’s face plate snaps back, exposing her features. The hero continues to pull against her, made all the more alarming by the fact she can’t break free. “Kara!”

The sound of her name snaps Kara back into focus. “L-Lena?”

“What happened?”

“P-please… h-help me. I-- I can’t…”

Lena closes her helmet, scanning the street behind Supergirl for signs of pursuit. Kara drifted closer, gripping Lena’s gauntlet so tight the nth metal steel groaned in protest.

“He-- he’s coming…” Kara puffs, crackling in Lena’s headset. “I-- I told him no…”

Only now does Lena register Kara’s ripped and displaced suit, torn in ways not indicative of a battle. A struggle, yes, but a struggle more mundane than an alien fight, and far more horrific. Eyes unevenly dilated, Kara stares at her, blinking sluggishly.

“P-please… Lena…”

Lena hikes Supergirl’s arm across her shoulders without hesitation. In the seconds it takes to touch down on the balcony, most of Kara’s weight sags against Lena, and only the exoskeleton of her armor keeps her from staggering under her density. 

“Hang in there,” Lena urges, helping Kara towards the elevator that leads to her private laboratory. “Just stay with me, okay?”

Kara groans, head lolling for one last moment before she collapses completely. Lena fumbles to catch her, and holds her tight as the doors slide shut. 

“I’ve got you.”

---

“She’s waking, Miss Luthor.”

Lena glances up from her tablet at Hope’s alert, and sets it aside when she sees Supergirl blink awake. Her jaw tightens when the hero’s gaze travels dazedly from the yellow sun lamp over her head to the faint green glow that illuminates the medbay ceiling beyond. 

With a gasp, Supergirl bolts out of bed in a klaxon of protesting sensor alerts that Hope silences a moment later. Proud and tall even in her borrowed patient scrubs, Kara glares at her with fists clenched.

“Relax,” Lena drawls, smoothly rising to her feet. “You’re not in any danger from me.”

“No?” Kara barks. “Then why the green kryptonite?”

Lena arches a brow. “How do you feel?”

Supergirl’s expression lifts, then scrunches in consternation.

“Any weakness, dizziness? Nails through your veins? Flesh seared from your bones?”

“I--” Kara’s jaw clicks shut. “No…”

“You’re not restrained or confined in any way,” Lena further explains, and smirks when Kara puts a tentative hand through the space where she’d once seen a force field imprisoning Reign. “Your suit has been cleaned and restored. It’s folded there on the console.”

She expects Kara to make a beeline for the neat pile of fabric. To Lena’s surprise, she turns her gaze back to the glow of green kryptonite. 

“How…?”

“I isolated the radiation signature that suppresses Kryptonian flight, heat vision, and freeze breath. Without the extra drain on your metabolism, the sun lamps expedited your healing factor by 30%. Whatever got in your system, it’s gone now.”

Kara stares at her, until Lena has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You… helped me.”

At that, Lena loses the fight. With an exaggerated eye roll, Lena reaches for her tablet. “Despite what you think of me, I’m not a monster.”

“Lena…”

“You ask for help, I give it… Isn’t that how it always goes?”

“Lena!”

“Right up until the prison cell slams shut.”

She glances up from her work just in time to see Supergirl’s face flush bright red. Blue eyes slide away, betraying her guilt. Good. At least one of them has the decency to be.

“To be honest, I was a little surprised you came to me,” Lena continues nonchalantly. “Considering I’m persona non grata these days.”

These days... months... years.

But despite the brush the DEO painted her with, the picture the press ran with, Kara came to find her tonight. The DEO building sits on the opposite side of National City from L-Corp. When Kara needed help… she came to Lena.

Kara swallows audibly, throat clicking as she searches for the right words. 

“Lena, I-- I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to… I never thought…”

With another roll of her eyes, Lena lets her flounder. 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Kara says finally. “I never did. You’re-- you were my best friend.”

“We were never friends.” Snapping her tablet down, Lena plants one hand on her hip. “You made that perfectly clear.”

“Lena…”

“Are you feeling better?” Lena asks, cutting through Kara’s attempt to parlay.

“Lena!”

“Are you feeling better?”

The corners of Kara’s lips tremble under the weight of tears building in her eyes. Her shoulders sag, head bowing in defeat. “Yes.”

“Good. Get out.”

Lena taps her tablet again. When the green glow of the kryptonite fades, the implication is clear. Kara speeds into her suit, and Lena turns her back as the hero steps out of the open containment unit. Her gaze returns to her tablet, but her focus follows Supergirl’s footed bootsteps as they cross behind her, then pause.

“Thank you, Lena. It was-- good to see you.”

Without waiting for a response, Kara continues towards the door. Following her progress through Hope’s security feed, Lena grits her teeth for a brief moment before calling out. 

“I want his name.” 

She barely looks up, watching through the feed as Kara lingers with her hand on the doorknob. The gaze that was once so familiar regards her with heavily veiled suspicion. “What for?”

Finally, Lena lifts her chin, turning her head to meet Kara’s gaze directly. 

“To do what you won’t.”

Kara breaks eye contact first. Her hand twists, and the door opens, but Supergirl hesitates before crossing the threshold. After a long moment, she inhales deeply.

“Baylor Togann.”

Then she’s gone, leaving nothing but a gaping door in her wake. Lena doesn’t mind.

“Hope-- find me everything you can on Baylor Togann.”

“I have already compiled a preliminary dossier and submitted it for your review. I will provide further details upon discovery.” 

Good. With a tap of her finger, Lena flips through the information. Earliest located records indicate enrollment at NCU eleven years prior, never graduated. He completed four years but failed to receive his degree following… sealed records unseal with a tap of Lena’s finger. Ah.

Rape.

Assault.

Harassment.

The few women who spoke out against him reported inhuman strength and mind altering ability. A feeling of drunkenness regardless of sobriety. 

After his expulsion, requests for the morning after pill at the campus clinic dropped twenty percent.

Looks like bastards come in all shapes and sizes. 

“Baylor Togann currently works for Exports Unlimited,” Hope reports, “as the Vice President of Human Resources.”

“Interesting,” Lena murmurs. “I happen to know Glenn Tarring requires a university degree for all VPs and higher.”

“You are correct. I have located a digitized copy of his application-- it seems he misrepresented the status of his degree. Shall I bring the discrepancy to the attention of his superior?”

Lena takes a moment to consider it. “No. Forward it directly to Glenn. Use my personal email and let him know I’ll give him forty-eight hours to rectify the situation before it goes public.”

“Yes, Miss Luthor.”

“And once you’ve finished with that, dig up his credit and banking information. Do you have an address of residence?”

“It appears he has several, under multiple identities. I am still compiling a list with full details.”

Lena inhales. Puzzle pieces shift and shuffle in her mind, before clicking into place, filling her with familiar satisfaction.

“Send the email, then freeze his primary accounts.”

“And his secondaries?”

“Leave them for now,” Lena instructs. “Let him run to ground as his life starts to burn down around him.”

Hope flashes an affirmative. Lena continues to scan through the records as Hope continues to aggregate. Each one yields a picture more horrendous than the last. 

“Miss Luthor?”

“Yes, Hope.”

A second name features heavily in many of the later reports. Lena makes a note of it for Hope to research later. If Togann has a crony, their work may be doubled.

“Once we have frozen all of Baylor Togann’s accounts, and vacated all of his leases-- surely you don’t mean to leave him to the authorities?”

“No.” Hits on Baylor Togann’s name are already filtering in from the police servers. Numerous reports filed against him, none pursued beyond an interview. Lack of evidence, each one lists, despite women willing to testify and rape kits waiting to be tested. “I don’t.”

Lena flips the cover over her tablet and sets it aside. Her gaze slides to her workstation, where a new armored suit lays half-complete, just waiting to be finished.

“Once he feels the snare tighten...” 

Lena’s lips curl in a hungry smile. 

“We go hunting.”

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 10/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,563 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: …angst angst angst angst...

Chapter 10- In Which Occam’s Razor is Proven Correct

In the almost two months since moving into the house with Lydia and Beetlejuice, Holidae had yet to venture beyond the second floor.

She was aware there was a massive attic space, that Lydia’s family had a few things stored up there for safekeeping, but it was wholly underused in the grand scheme of the floor plan. Holidae vaguely remembered Lydia saying something about wanting to convert it into a dark room at some point, but nothing else. It was just there. A set of steps leading off into the abyss as far as she was concerned.

So it was quite the surprise when Lydia sent Holidae up to the attic to rummage around for photo props for her latest brilliant scheme.

“Just go find something… I dunno. Haunted looking.” Lydia had instructed before retreating back into her bedroom.

Holidae trudged up the surprisingly steep set of stairs, barely even touching the doorknob before it swung open, almost beckoning her inside. She was getting used to the creepy nature of the house by then, merely shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.

The space was huge, but not as empty as Lydia had claimed. An old, patched up sleeper sofa was unfolded into a bed in the far corner, accompanied by a dresser and a large mirror. A rack of clothes was stuffed up against the wall, doing a poor job of hiding the piles of meticulous marked cardboard boxes that lined the walls. Unfinished works of “art” sat collecting dust on the opposite side of the room. With a little work, it could have been converted into a rather spacious guest room, but it was far too shabby to house anyone now.

Holidae’s attention was drawn to the clothing rack, seeing an array of colorful dresses - Delia’s, no doubt - and some smaller, darker clothes: most likely Lydia’s old hand-me-downs. She sifted through the clothing idly, making the occasional face at the more gaudy ensembles, until she came upon… a man’s suit. It was hidden so well in between the other garments, she would have passed it by completely if she hadn’t been paying attention.

She pulled out the suit, shaking some dust off of the lapels, and inspected it carefully. The jacket and pants were a deep, but loud, red color; stained with grime that turned patches of fabric a sickly gray, stitched with thread that didn’t match any color on the suit. A ruffled shirt completely the look: again, a garish red, but a rusty hued stain had soaked into the front of it, a good sized rip disrupting the button line.

Furrowing her brow, Holidae stood in front of the mirror, holding up the suit next to her for height reference, “Hm. Too short for Mr. Deetz…”

A small whiff of tobacco smoke was the only warning she had before the suit was ripped from her hands, and she was shoved backwards toward the center of the room with force. It took some ungraceful, wobbly steps, but she managed to regain her center of gravity. Beetlejuice stood in the place she once was, crushing the suit against his chest in a vice-like grip, his hair matching the red of the fabric, his expression terrifying.

“Who the fuck gave you permission to come up here and go through my shit?” His gravely voice was low, reverberating deep in his chest.

Holidae held up her hands in defense, “Whoa, wait! I had zero idea of your stuff being up here! Lydia told me to get something for her, that’s all.”

“She told you to get this?” He held up the suit, “This specific thing that was hidden from view?”

“Well, no…” She started to chew on her bottom lip, feeling the pit of her stomach drop. “She said to get something haunted, so I was looking around through the clothes because most of them are frankly hideous, and it was on the rack. How was I supposed to know you wore anything besides stripes for god’s sake? I don’t think you have the right to be so angry about something like this.”

Beetlejuice didn’t seem impressed with her ramblings, putting the suit back in its place before advancing on her like an animal, “I don’t have the right?”

Despite him now looming over her, she stood her ground, “It was an honest mistake.”

His hands wrapped themselves around her neck, his thumbs pressing up into the bottom of her jaw, “Honest mistake, she says, like I would just believe you. You know what else could be called an honest mistake? Snapping your neck before you could even take a last breath. Oh no, what a shame, I didn’t mean to murder her. It was an honest mistake.”

“N-no, an honest mistake would be more akin to forcing your bestest best friend to marry you under duress and then realizing the whole affair was a waste because if you would have just sat down and talked things over you could have been happier faster.” Holidae could feel her pulse pounding under her skin, pressing against the force of his hands. “I know a tuxedo when I see one.”

Beetlejuice squeezed harder, earning him a gasp from his captive, “You are so mouthy today, Holli. Where’s all this coming from, huh? Do you think we’re friends Holli? That we have some sort of understanding? What makes you think I haven’t been fucking with you this whole time because I’m bored out of my skull? Wait wait… don’t tell me… you think I feel something for you other than utter contempt, right? You’re alive. I exterminate living things as a job.”

“…did anyone ever tell you that you can’t lie for shit?” Holidae choked out, her eyes starting to water with effort to breathe.

The muscles in his jaw twitched, and he eased up on his grasp, “…I lie all the time, babes.”

“Exactly, but you’re bad at it.” She reached her hands up, grabbing hold of his forearms. “If you didn’t care about the living as much as you claim, you wouldn’t have kept a constant reminder of a time when you were one of us.”

“Ugggh, damn.” Beetlejuice released her completely, walking over to sit on the edge of the fold-out bed.

Holidae waited a moment before following him, watching as his coloring turned from red to a dull violet, sitting with his face in his hands. Still leery, she crept over, standing over him in quiet contemplation.

“…don’t tell Lyds.” He finally spoke, running his hands down his face with a sigh.

“About the suit?” She asked, gesturing behind him to the clothing rack.

“No, about the fact I haven’t dusted up here in weeks. Yes about the suit.” Beej groaned, leaning over and resting his head against her thigh. “I know she already feels bad about the whole… stabbing thing. I don’t want to make it worse for her.”

“Tell you what; no more murder attempts, and I’ll keep your secret.” One of her hands reached down and patted him on the head; surprised by how soft his hair felt despite it’s messy nature. “Deal?”

Almost instinctively, he leaned into her soft touches, “Deal. Weirdo.”

“Me? I’m the weirdo? Uhh, pot calling kettle there, sir.” Holidae protested, tapping on his skull with her fingertips, “Mind elaborating for me?”

Beetlejuice put his hands around her waist, pulling her down onto the bed beside him, and rested his head on her soft stomach. Holidae made a small noise at the sudden shift of view, but let him do as he pleased for the moment. Her hand went back to absently petting his hair, seeing pink mix with the violet.

“I’m a literal demon who just threatened your life again, and you didn’t have the self preservation to like… run away. You’re weird. Like Lydia is weird… but you’re different weird.” His clawed fingers, unsubtle as he was, slipped under the hem of her shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Ahh~ cold hands.” She squirmed uncomfortably.

“Cold hands? Where?” He sat up, pulling her shirt up and over her bra to expose more of her skin, rolling her back and forth to check all sides of her. “I don’t see any cold hands under here. I think you’re losing it, Holidae; finally going mad! It’s the curse of this house.”

“Or maybe it was a jerkass ghost.” Holidae flailed helplessly, completely undone and laughing until she was out of breath, “S-stop!”

Beej continued running his hands all over her exposed flesh, pinching and dragging his claws to leave little white marks, “I’m trying to get those cold hands off of you, hold still! You’re clearly in distress and need my help, babydoll, your face is all red… you must be terrified, right? Don’t you worry about a thing. Aha!”

He dove down as he lifted her midsection off the bed, catching some skin between his teeth and biting sharply, the flesh immediately red and starting to bruise when he pulled away. Holidae couldn’t hold back the noise that left her throat; a soft keening whine breaking through the laughter. It startled her, and she clamped a hand down over her mouth to muffle herself, watching as those molten gold eyes of his turn dark.

“Oh? Care to repeat that, Holli? Didn’t quite catch it…” Beetlejuice grinned wide, leaning down for another attack.

Knock

Knock Knock

“Holli? Didn’t know if you got eaten by the monster octopus that lives up here. Should have warned you about Captain Tentacles, my bad.” Lydia’s voice echoed from the other side of the door, just as the knob started to turn.

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

[marvelouscaptainrogers]

Teachers and Lovers

Requested?: Yes

Summary: Reader and Bucky are called in to teach some teen aspiring SHIELD recruits for a week. One students question brings up a confession between the two. That confession leads to an evening together, where they learn each others bodies, kinks, and weaknesses.

Warnings: NSFW!!!  18+. Basically porn with a plot. Smut. Swearing. Daddy kink. Unprotected sex. Dom! Bucky. A lot of talk about cum tbh. 

Characters: Bucky x Reader

“Good lord. It’s too early for this shit.” You mumble, sipping your coffee from your chair behind the desk. Bucky is stood behind you, his back against the blackboard as he chuckles. 

 “Come on, Agent Y/L/N. You’re excited to be a teacher aren’t you?” He Asks. With a dramatic eye roll, you turn to look at him. 

 “Hardly... Why the hell am I here again? Couldn’t Steve come do this? Jeez.” You say, guzzling more coffee.

 It was a quarter past 8 AM, and you were in a new classroom designated for teaching aspiring SHIELD recruits over the summer. You weren’t going to be doing it full time, just until Agent Hill was fully recovered after being injured on a mission. You’re set to be doing it for a week.

 Tony knew how much trouble you and Bucky could get into if you were left alone for more than ten minutes, so he thought it was a terrible idea leaving you both in a room with twenty-something teenagers under your watch, but Steve of course is the shot-caller. He knows you and Bucky are rambunctious and mischievous, but he also knows that you both are two of the highest trained individuals on the team, you being trained in the red room, and Bucky being trained by Hydra. Steve had no doubt in his mind that you both were the perfect fit for the job.

“Ouch. Am I really that bad, doll? Come on. You get to hang out with me for eight hours a day, every day this week. Aren’t you excited?” He asks, pinching your cheek playfully. You swat his hand away, giving him a death glare. 

 “It’s not you that I’m bothered by. Whoever thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of a bunch of kids should probably be fired.” You say.

 “Well, first, it was Steve’s idea and he’s in charge. I don’t think he can fire himself, doll. Second, you wanna know why you were his first choice?” Bucky Says. You turn your gaze to him, brow quirked questioningly. 

 “He said, and I quote, you don’t put up with any BS from rowdy teens, and he knew you’d be the best at the discipline side of things,” Says Bucky. 

 “Okay. I can understand that. So if I’m handling the discipline side of it, what side are you handling?” You ask with a laugh. 

 “Me? Well, I am here for moral support first and foremost. And more than that, I’m gonna let you be the bad guy, whip these kids in shape, then I can have some fun.” He says with a smile. You scoff in response, smacking his arm playfully. 

 “I see. So they’ll hate me but they’ll love you!” You say, and Bucky’s face lights up as he laughs, placing his hand on your lower back. 

 “Oh come on, doll. It’s not that bad. Besides, do you even care if they hate you?” He Asks. 

 “No. Not really. If they hate me then that means I’m doing my job.” You say, turning around and seeing all of the kids sat around in their individual desks, laughing and socializing. 

 “Okay. What time is it... 8:30? Let’s get this show on the road.” You say, placing your coffee on the desk and standing up. 

“Alright guys lets-...” You start, not even being heard over the loud voices of the kids. You roll your eyes, glancing at Bucky, who is smirking deviously. 

“Oh. Here she comes... Here comes the she-devil...” He says, his voice coming out in a sing-song type of tone. You shake your head with a laugh, turning back to the kids.

“HEY! THIS AIN’T SOCIAL HOUR! Class starts at 8:30! When that clock hits 8:30, you’d better be dead quiet, and have all of your supplies out, ready to get to work. Am I clear?” You Ask. The classroom was so quiet you could hear Bucky quietly laughing behind you, his hand hiding his face. 

“I asked, are we clear? I ask, you answer. That’s how that works.” You say. 

“Yes ma’am!” They all reply simultaneously. 

“Good! That’s what I like to hear. I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is my co-teacher, Sergeant Barnes.” You say with a smirk as you look over at him. A smile graces his features at the familiar old name. 

“We’re gonna be your teachers this week until Agent Hill gets back. Let’s jump right in and get through roll call, then we can get started.” You say. Each student raises their hand as they call out ‘here!’, and you mark off each as you go. 

“Peter Park-... Oh for fucks sake... He’s here too? Jesus. Peter Parker?” You call out, hearing no response. 

“I don’t think he’s-“

“Sorry I’m late! I’m so sorry!” Peter yells, running through the door frantically. He hands you a slip of notebook paper. 

“H-Hi, Agent Y/L/N. I’m so sorry. Mr. Stark had-“

“I’m gonna stop you at ‘Stark’, just sit down Peter. Please don’t be late again.” You say. He nods quickly, shyly waving a Bucky as he makes his way to his desk. 

After roll call is finished, you put those papers aside, and your eye catches on one girl in the middle of the class with her hand raised. You look at her as Bucky hands you one of the books for the class. 

“Yes?” You Ask her.

“Hey so are you guys together?” She asks, pointing to you and Bucky. You’re taken aback by the brazenness of the question. Bucky scoffs behind you, looking at you, then back to the younger girl. 

“I wish.” He Says. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you quietly giggle.

“Your name was Sarah, right?” You Ask.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, no. We are not together. Sergeant Barnes just likes to flirt... Now, no more questions unless it’s about something in this book. Let’s get started.” You say, flipping open the handbook and getting the lesson going. 

A few hours later, the academic part of the class was over, and it was time for the training portion, for which you all headed outside to the track. 

“Okay! First things first, if you’re gonna be kicking ass for long periods of time, you’ve got to have good stamina. So, to get that, you’re gonna start with ten laps. After that, you get a water break before we move on to the next exercise. Let’s go!” You yell. The kids all start running the track, some of them starting off fast, some starting with a jog. Meanwhile, you and Bucky are stood over to the side, leaned against a brick wall. Both you and Bucky are sporting your favorite sunglasses, keeping the sun out of your eyes as you talk. 

“So, ‘I wish’. What was that about?” You ask with a laugh. Bucky smirks over at you, then turning back to face ahead of him. 

“You know exactly what it was about.” He Says. His metal arm brushes against your flesh one, sending chills all over you, even though it is hotter than sin outside. 

“No. No actually I don’t. I’m gonna need you to explain it to me.” You say. He lets out a laugh, his eyes moving to focus on you once more. 

“Any straight guy would break his back to get with you, doll. You’re every man’s wet dream. So yeah, I wish we were a thing. But, I know you like your freedom and whatnot so-“

“Hold on, what? Are you telling me you’re into me, Barnes?” You ask, pushing your back off the wall and turning your body to fully face him. 

“Any guy would-“

“I’m not asking about any guy. I’m asking about you. Are you into me?” You Ask. Bucky smirks, turning his own body to face yours. 

“Yes, Doll. I’m not sure how much more obvious I can be about it.” He Says. You laugh and shake your head, looking back at him. 

“You have to tell me this now? I can’t kiss you here because we’ve got twenty something kids watching our every move. And we did just tell them that we’re not together.” You say. 

“Yeah... Might be a little confusing if we start making out, right?” He says, smirking down at you as he moves closer. With a hand on his chest, you move away from him, even though you want nothing more than for him to push you against the wall and kiss you like his life depends on it. 

“The kids, Barnes. Watch the kids. We’re working... But if you walk me to my room later, I’m sure we could work this out then.” You say, sipping your water. 

“You got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”

Later on, at 4:30, class was dismissed. You and Bucky congratulated each student for doing a great job on the first day, before Bucky leads you to the living quarters. 

Once the elevator gets to the right floor, you both exit and walk down the hall, approaching your door. 

“So, we have no students around and no one to tell us what to do... It’s just us, all alone in this nice big hallway.” Bucky says, looking around the space before his eyes land on you. Your own eyes nearly roll out of your head as you smirk up at him. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, Barnes.” You say. Bucky’s eyes seem to turn a shade darker as he pulls your body to his, your lips coming together in a searing hot kiss. Finally. 

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you happily allow him entrance to explore your mouth, which also gives you the chance to explore his. With his body flush against your own, he pushes your back against your door, his hips grinding against yours as your fingers move into his hair, gently tugging it. He lets out a low growl at the feeling, turning your doorknob and pushing you inside. 

As soon as the door closes, you’re practically ripping his shirt over his head. As soon as his body comes into view, you shuffle on your feet, clenching your thighs a bit, already imagining how it will feel to have his bare chest pressed against your own. Bucky moves closer to you, placing his hand on your jaw as the pad of his thumb swipes your bottom lip.

“My pretty girl. You already look so wrecked and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He says, his fingers moving from your face, down the column of your throat, and over your collar bones. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his touch. 

All is calm until the loud sound of ripping fabric fills your ears, making you gasp as your eyes fly open. He had ripped your shirt straight down the middle, pushing it off your arms to let the torn article hit the floor. You feel the pink in your cheeks travel down your neck and chest, turning you completely flushed as your breathing grows shallow. Bucky’s gaze has now darkened completely, his hands resting on your bare waist. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. You gotta talk to me.” He says, leaning in to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands rest on his biceps, feeling both the flesh and metal moving beneath your fingers. 

“I... I want you, Bucky.” You stutter. You can already feel him smirking against your neck, his teeth sinking into the flesh there, eliciting a hiss from you before he licks and sucks at the area, soothing the sting. He quickly picks you up by your hips and throws you on the bed, catching you off guard. When he crawls back on top of you, his lips are on yours in a second. Parting your legs with his hands, he lays his body between them, and doesn’t hesitate to grind his denim covered member against you. The friction you received was only the slightest bit satisfying, but you couldn’t help the small whimper that fell from your lips. 

“God you’re perfect. I can’t wait to taste you baby.” He says, leaving open mouthed kisses all over your chest. When you feel the cold metal of his hand sliding under your back, it elicits a gasp from you. The temperature contrast between his hands is leaving your senses in a whirlwind. 

Once he unclasps your bra, you pull it away from your frame and drop it to the floor. Almost instantly, his hands are going up your ribcage, cupping your breasts and massaging them. 

At this point, your body is practically crying for more. So much that you fear you may start crying if he doesn’t do something. 

“Bucky, please. I need you so bad.” You whine. 

“Shhh... Patience baby. I’ll give you what you need.” He says, before leaning down and taking your nipple between his lips. Your back arches almost instantly, feeling his tongue swirling around and flicking the bud as he softly sucks on it. As he releases it, he leans down and gives it a tiny bite, winking and smirking at you as he does, then switching to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. 

As his lips are still wrapped around the pink bud, he grinds his hips against you, hard. Letting you feel the shape and size of his erection even through his jeans and your own. 

“Daddy!” You moan, the term falling from your lips almost effortlessly. Bucky pulls away from your skin, looking at you in shock of what you just said. 

“Run that by me again, princess. I don’t think I heard you right.” He says with a smug look on his features. 

“Daddy...” You say quietly, almost a whisper. 

“Ah ah ah. A little louder for me, baby. Let me hear it.” He Says. 

“Daddy, please!” You moan. With that, Bucky let’s put a deep, dark chuckle, that you’d swear nearly made your ovaries burst into flames. 

“Oh, kitten... You want daddy’s cock? Huh? You want daddy to fuck you and give you my load?” He Says, all the while his fingers are undoing your belt and jeans. 

“Fuck daddy, please!” You whine. Bucky pulls your jeans down slowly, pressing his lips to your belly.

“I need you to say it baby. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me you want my load.” He says, finally dropping your jeans to the floor. He settles your legs over his shoulders, his lips trailing over the soft skin on your inner thigh. 

“Yes! I want you to fuck me! I want you to cum inside me daddy, please!” You whine. Bucky bites his bottom lip as he moves his mouth maybe a centimeter away from your slit. He inhales a deep, quiet breath. The act of him smelling you seems so taboo, so utterly filthy, and you know your juices must be dripping onto the bed at this point. 

“God baby you smell so fucking good. Want me to taste you?” He Asks. You’re so deprived at the moment that all you can manage to get out is a long, ‘mhmm’ in response. 

“Pull these legs back baby, hold them for me. Let me see this pretty pussy.” He says. With those words, your skin turns a bright pink, and your core clenches. Your whole body feels like you’re lying in a bed of hot embers with the way your skin is heating up. 

You don’t hesitate to quickly pull your legs back, your knees almost touching your chest as your hands hold them in place. 

“Fuck. There you go, princess. God you look so good like this. Spread open and ready for my cock.” He says. Finally, after what feels like ages to you, his mouth attaches to your clit, sending shivers over your entire body as your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Daddy! Oh my... Fuck! Fuck yes!” You scream. Bucky is looking up at you, with his cock so hard against the restraints of his jeans that it’s becoming painful. 

Seeing you completely spread open and ready to do whatever he tells you has opened up something completely primal within him, and he hopes that you don’t ask him to stop, because he’s not sure if he can. 

“Daddy! More! Please more!”

Bucky moves his metal arm from the back of your thigh, to your soaking hole, slipping a thick, cold metal finger inside you. Having your legs pulled back allows him to find your g-spot pretty much the second he glides his finger in. 

The sound of him slurping and sucking on your cunt only turns you on more. He goes from sucking on your clit, to viciously flicking his tongue over the little bundle of nerves. When he adds a second finger, you pretty much know you’re done for. 

“Daddy! G-Gonna cum!” You scream. Bucky hums against you, wordlessly telling you to let go, and once his fingers curled inside you, that’s exactly what you did. Your nails sink into the back of your quivering thighs, and your head falls back against the pillows. Your eyes flutter closed as the heat in your core spreads over your entire body. 

Bucky licks, sucks, and fingers you through your high. Once your moans start growing a little quieter, and your hips start to move away from him, he slows his ministrations, removing his fingers from you and giving a few soft kitten licks. 

Once he comes up, he’s caught off guard when your fingers wrap around his metal wrist, bringing his fingers up, and you wrap your lips around them. This time, it was Bucky’s turn to feel the chills going up his spine, watching you gazing up at him and cleaning your cum off of his fingers. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cleanliness, you release his wrist, and he moves on top of you, kissing you deeply. He nearly moans when he feels your fingers fumbling with his belt, finally getting it open with only a little struggle seeing as you’re not looking. You then undo the button and zipper. Just that bit of extra room is a relief for Bucky, but when he feels your soft, delicate fingers slip inside the waistband of his boxers, his breath hitches in his throat. You wrap your hand around him, and you’re stunned by his thickness. 

“Daddy... You’re so fucking big.” You whine against his lips. He smirks down at you, nearly groaning when your thumb brushed over his tip. 

“Yeah? You want daddy’s big cock in this pretty pussy?” He asks, every word sounding like poetry from his lips. 

“Yes! Please!” You moan. Bucky pecks your lips once more before sitting up, and quickly ridding himself of his last two articles of clothing. 

You could tell by feeling him that he was huge, but fuck. Seeing him fully nude, chiseled torso, thick muscular thighs, sculpted arms, both flesh and metal, He was perfect. When he started stroking himself with his flesh hand, you nearly let out a moan. It was better than watching porn. 

“Ready for me, princess?” He asks, settling between your legs and gently running his tip over your clit. 

“Yes daddy! I’m so ready for you! Please fuck me!” You moan. Bucky feels just how ready you are, seeing you wetness coating his tip as he teases you. 

“Who does this pussy belong to baby?” He Asks. The words nearly get stuck in your throat. Bucky doesn’t like the hesitation in your answer, so he decides to take his teasing even further, slipping just his tip inside you, before pulling out and doing it again. 

“Come on baby. Answer me. Who does this pretty pussy belong to?” He Asks. 

“You, daddy! This pussy is yours! Just please!” You scream. 

Satisfied with your answer, Bucky wastes no time before guiding his cock past your entrance, your soaking walls wrapping around him perfectly. 

“Daddy! Oh fuck! Your cock feels so good! Daddy, please!” You scream. 

“Fuuuuck. You’re so god damn tight, princess. Do you hear how wet you are baby?” He Asks. After he mentions it, you start to notice the audible squelch every time he moves deeper inside you. The sounds only turn you on more, making you even more of a mess than you already were as he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck. You’re such a good girl for your daddy. You take my cock so well.” He says, finally pulling his hips back, and quickly snapping them forward.

“Ahhh! Daddy!” You scream, your nails dragging down his chest.

“You want it slow? Or do you want it hard?” He asks, pressing a soft kiss to your chest. 

“Hard. I want it hard, daddy.” You moan. Upon getting your answer, Bucky pulls your legs over his shoulders for the second time this evening, and he starts ramming into you.

“Oh my god! Daddy! A-Ahhhh!” You scream. You can feel him so deep inside you. When he presses his hand to your lower belly, he hits your g-spot with striking accuracy, and you’re not sure how he could possible expect you to hold on. He feels too good, and he’s hitting every spot just right. Your eyes flutter closed as your head rests against the pillows. 

“No baby. Look at me. I wanna see you. Let me see those pretty eyes baby. You’re such a good girl for your daddy. You look so beautiful when you’re getting fucked.” He says, resulting in a long whine from you. 

“Daddy! Oh god! Fuck! I-I can’t! I’m gonna c-cum!” You scream. Bucky lets out a deep groan, fucking into you deeper and faster. 

“Do it, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock. Let me feel it.” He says, his voice coming out a few octaves lower than usual. 

With Bucky’s permission, you can’t hold back your second orgasm no matter how hard you tried. Your body was far too wound up, and Bucky knew it. When he felt your walls fluttering and tightening around him, he nearly fell into his own release, but no. He wasn’t finished with you yet, but when he saw the layers of your cum covering his cock, he had to slow down, both to let you come down, and to fight of his own orgasm that was threatening to approach. 

“D-Daddy... Fuck.” You moan, coming down from your high. Bucky pulls out of you slowly, kissing your trembling thighs before moving them off of his shoulders and laying them back on the bed. 

“Are you okay baby?” He asks, leaning on to kiss your jawline. 

“Mhmm.” You mumble, your soft hands moving over his chest.

“More, daddy.” You keen. Bucky beams down at you, amazed at how fucked out you are, but you’re still asking for more. 

“You want more, princess?” He asks, sucking on your collar bone as you nod. 

“C’mere.” He says, rolling onto his back and pulling you to straddle him. 

“You wanna ride daddy’s cock?” He Asks. He gets all the answer he needs when a playful giggle escapes you and you grind your soaking pussy along his length. 

“Yes daddy.” You reply. 

“Fuck. Do it, baby. Ride me.” He says, gripping your hips in his hands. He lifts you up, and he watches you take him between your fingers, lining him up before sinking down on him, the wet heat of you welcoming him once more.

“Oh god... Daddy.” You whine, your clit pressing against the neatly trimmed patch of hair at his base. You grind your hips on him a few times before leaning forward, your hands pressing into his chest as you start rocking your hips onto him. Bucky looks down to where you’re connected, groaning at the way his cock glistens when it’s covered in your wetness. 

“Fuck, princess. So good. You like riding your daddy’s cock?” He Asks, one of his hands leaving you for only a moment, before landing a hard smack on your ass. He feels your hips tremble against him when he spanks you, and you let out a loud moan.

“You like it when I spank you baby?” He asks, his hips coming up to thrust into you in perfect time with your movements. 

“Yes daddy! Spank me again!” You scream. Bucky has no problem giving you what you want, landing another hard smack on your ass. 

“God! Fuck! Daddy! Oh my... Ahhh!” You scream. Bucky feels his orgasm fast approaching, leading to him taking matters back into his own hands. 

He removes your palms from his chest, pulling your body down against his as he digs his heels into the bed, and starts fucking into you hard, fast, and deep. Bucky watches your face, mouth agape, eyes half closed, and your skin tinted pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He watches you reach you hand between your bodies, rubbing fast circles around your clit as your head falls onto his shoulder.

“D-Daddy! G-Gonna... FUUUUUCK!” You scream, as the heat in your pussy returns for the third time, your nails dragging down his chest. 

Bucky feels your body tensing in his arms, and your cunt clamping down on him. He knows it won’t be long for him either. 

He knows you’ve finally started to come down when your moans are replaced with whines and whimpers, and you start sucking on his neck. 

“Daddy, please. Please cum inside me. I wanna feel it.” You say. Bucky wraps his arms tighter around you, groaning as his thrusts grow sloppy. When he feels your lips against his ear, he knows he’s done for. 

“Please daddy. Fill my pretty pussy with your cum.” You whisper. Bucky releases with a loud groan, burying himself in you to the hilt, and painting your insides with thick ribbons of hot cream. 

“Daddyyyy...” You whine, slowly moving your hips on him as he empties his load inside you. 

“Fuck baby. Oh fuck...” He says, watching as his cum drips out of you, and covers his length. 

“Oh fuck baby. You’re dripping. Oh my god.” Bucky Says, his hands gripping your thighs, as he watches you move slowly on top of him. 

“Mmm. Feels so good...” You whine, sinking all the way down onto him to finish him off. 

“Holy fuck... You’re a fucking goddess, baby. Shit.” Bucky Says, earning that same playful giggle in response as you slowly pull off of him, and remnants of him start dripping from your soaking walls, onto his lower belly. 

“Oh fuck baby. You look so good with my cum dripping out of you.” He says, watching as you swipe your finger across his belly, collecting the cream on your finger and bringing it to your mouth, tasting the beautiful combined taste of both you and him.

“Jesus fucking Christ. With this view, you’re about to get me hard again, princess.” He Says. He hears you giggle, before leaning down, kissing his lips. 

“Good, then you can fill me up all over again, Daddy.” You say. A deep growl rumbles deep in Bucky’s chest as he rolls you over onto your back.

“If you want it, princess, then you’ll get it.”

[sidespromptblog]

Again: Part 3

Summary: Logan has come to a realization, it by every definition wasn’t an easy one to come to, but in his eyes, he needed to understand it. So he has, and it has led him to a darkness that he is all too willing to embrace.

One, Two, Four, Five, Six

A happy sigh left Roman’s lips as he snuggled in between the blanket-clad forms of Patton and Virgil, the tv screen lit up with one of his favorite movies as the princess danced away on the screen beautiful music drifting out of the speakers. Glancing over to Virgil and Patton, Roman couldn’t help but for his heart to warm up at the sight of the two of them. He’d never been happier than right now, snuggling with the two of them and a warm steaming cup of hot chocolate resting between his hands warming his joints as he occasionally took a long and slow sip reveling in the smooth chocolate beverage that washed over his tongue.

Everything felt perfect at this moment, absolutely perfect. Squished between the two people that he loved most in the world, and nothing could ruin that.

Or at least, that was what he had thought before he’d glanced over to the end of the couch, the end that was perfectly suited for fitting one more person. The one person that they hadn’t seen since..since… Since this morning at least, Logan had gone up to his bedroom, and hadn’t even come down to join them for dinner.

“It’s fine Ro-Ro!” Patton’s warm smile had washed away every worry he’d had for the time being, as he felt the other peck a gentle kiss on the side of his cheek. “Lo’s probably working away like he normally does at this time. He’ll come down later just like usual.”

And he’d been content with that, he’d watched as Patton had packaged away the last of the leftovers for Logan and slotted them away into the fridge whenever their nerd would come down like a cyrpid in the night to get some. They could always hear him. Bumping and shuffling tiredly down the stairs at three in the morning, sometimes later as he opened the fridge and got the coffee pot going. He wouldn’t be going to sleep, Roman knew that well enough from his own late night creative brainstorming sessions. But Logan would always come down, and even if they didn’t see him, he’d always eat.

Of course, he would. There was no way that he wouldn’t.

Leaning his head back, Roman rested his cheek against Patton’s warm shoulder as his tired eyes continued to gaze at the tv for a moment longer. As much as he tried to bury it, the nervousness nestled itself deep inside of him. It remained there, not doing anything, not a single thing aside from reminding him that it was in fact there and it wouldn’t be going away until he went upstairs and checked on Logan himself. And even so, the warmth that had burrowed around him, as Virgil leaned against his arm and as Patton draped his arm over the back of Roman’s shoulders. It was tantalizing, the idea of staying there and not moving a single muscle. The idea of being lazy and not getting up was an alluring one, but...for the time being it was one that he couldn’t listen to.

Stretching his legs out, Roman grunted as his muscles protested after such a long time of being curled up on the couch. Pulling away from the two most amazing people in his life Roman couldn’t help but to flash a smile at them. “I’m going to go and check up on our resident nerd, see if he needs anything.”

A sappy smile curled on Patton’s lips as he scooted over just a little bit, removing his arm from Roman’s shoulders in an effort to help him get up. A part of him wanted to pout at the fact that Roman had chosen now to leave their warm embrace, but a bigger part of him was even happier it was for Logan. While none of them had exactly been fighting, Logan hadn’t exactly been too..open since the last video, if anything he’d holed himself up in his room more and talked to them even less. It certainly hurt, if he was being honest, but he’d long since learned that when it came to Logan it was just best to ignore his silence until he was ready to talk himself.

A hand swiftly swatted at Roman’s middle, and a lovely smirk lit up Virgil’s face as he pushed Roman back down onto the couch and into the warm loving embrace of Patton’s arms. Looking back at the offended pouting face of Roman, Virgil couldn’t help but to snicker a little bit before leaning in and pecking a gentle kiss onto the tip of Roman’s nose.

“Stay here,” He murmured, his smirk only growing as soon as Roman tilted his face upwards begging for yet another kiss. “I’ll go and get our nerd.”

Pressing a short and sweet kiss against the creative side’s temple Virgil was gone, as he dropped his empty cup off in the kitchen sink before making his way to the stairs. Taking his time, he eventually got to the dark blue door, that was decorated with a ton of star stickers, all of them forming the constellations in the sky. Or so Logan had told him, of course, there was also the small bright yellow smiley sticker on the left corner of Logan’s door, that Patton had put there. Logan had refused to take it off, although he had never specified why exactly. It made him chuckle just thinking about it, as he stood there for just a moment before raising his hand.

“Logan?” Virgil rapped his knuckles on the door, only for silence to answer him back. “Logan, hey. We were wondering if you ne-” Virgil’s words stopped dead in his mouth withering on his tongue like flowers decaying under a harsh summer sun, stumbling back the anxious side felt his back slam into the wall right in front of Logan’s door. His fingers clenched the fabric of his own shirt, tugging and pulling to the point where he could hear the fabric beginning to rip around his neck. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, like the hammer of an alarm clock trying to wake him up. But there was no waking up from this. “LOGAN!”

The door before him was withering, the paint peeling and chunks of the wood coming off in huge massive chunks. They didn’t even make a sound when it hit the floor, they didn’t even linger. As the wood dropped from the wall, turning into little tendrils of smoke from the very second that it touched the ground, leaving behind a blank space, a section of an empty wall where Logan’s door was, it was vanishing, it was vanishing all too quickly for Virgil to process. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, weighing down whatever words could have escaped, he choked on those words as the world became misty before him.

No no..not Logan, whatever is happening..it can’t be happening to him. Not him...please….

“PATTON! ROMAN!” Virgil’s hoarse scream ripped itself free from the anxious side’s throat as he stood there for a moment too long, even the sound of thumping footsteps soon following felt like it had lasted a second too long. A moment of hesitation that had clawed at Virgil’s insides the longer that he stared at Logan’s decaying door, with a mixture of agony and horror written all over his face. “I..I don’t know what’s happening..It’s..it just…” And once again the words were lost to the void as soon as his lovers had arrived at the scene, he didn’t understand the looks on their faces. He didn’t understand why Roman wrapped him in his arms, blocking his view of the door and of Patton as soon as the moral side started to weep so hard that his entire body had begun to shake. “What’s happening?! Where’s Logan? Where is he? Where...where...”

“No…” Patton stark broken whisper was barely loud enough to rival Virgil’s sniffles, tears rushed down Patton’s face as he reached his hand out, grasping for the doorknob of Logan’s door. The smoke curled under his fingers as soon as he managed to push the door open, and the sight of the greying deteriorating room told him more than he ever needed to know.

Sinking to his knees, a loud gut-wrenching sob fell from the moral side’s lips as he covered his eyes, unable to look for more than a second as the room chipped and fell before his very eyes. His body was shaking, and he was crying so much that he doubted he’d ever be able to stop...he didn’t want to stop crying, ever. And so the tears kept coming, dripping between his fingers as the last of Logan, the last of his room fizzled away into nothingness, the only evidence that their dear logical side had ever been among them, to begin with. Patton could still feel the sensation of smoke curling between his fingers, as the doorknob had vanished, and he couldn’t help but to cry harder.

Not Logan. It had been so long since..since…

Patton wanted to cry, to scream, and to wail out his grief to whatever entity could hear and answer him. But now all he could do was cry into his hands as Roman held Virgil tight, there was nothing to be done now, both he and Roman knew that.

Not again.

Tagged:

@moonfang03

@emerald-and-fluorite

@paperghastly

@jamiebluewind

[captaincanarygotmelike]

Doors Open ch. 2

lol so much for that upload schedule

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction.net

The next day, the Waverider was on its way to València, Spain, 2025.

“I’ll have you know that all of your future selves are present in 2025,” Rip told the team, “So no galavanting off to Central or Star City. Try to stay within València if you can.”

“Does that mean we all make it to 2025,” Sara jokingly asked.

“It does,” he replied, his expression serious, “and I think we’d all appreciate it if that didn’t change, so be careful. All of you.”

They all walked to the cargo hold where the team would part ways — even if only temporarily.

“We’ll be landing in about a minute,” Rip informed them, “You may say goodbyes if you so desire.”

They all said their farewells and then Rip directed the half of the team heading for València towards three separate cars. He climbed into the drivers seat of the large black SUV that apparently belonged to Sara and Leonard.

“What is it about having one child that makes parents think they need a car that seats seven of them?” Sara grumbled as she buckled Elsie into her carseat.

“An excellent question, Miss Lance,” Rip replied, starting up the car.

Soon, they were driving away from the Waverider into the city of València, Spain.

They first dropped Jax and Stein off on the campus of València University and then stopped at an apartment complex to show Ray his new home for the next several months. Finally, they pulled down the street of a gated neighborhood.

“Now remember,” Rip began, “You’ll be posing as a well-to-do American family who moved for Mr. Snart’s job when the company he works for was absorbed into the one based here. Sara, you’ll be posing as a stay-at-home mom — don’t roll your eyes — and while Elsie’s at school, you teach kick-boxing and self-defense classes at the gym.”

“And if I don’t know how to do that?” Sara asked, eyebrows raised.

“If my memory is correct, your tactic for our last mission was, I believe, to ‘wing it’,” he said, “I suggest you take your own advice.”

Sara rolled her eyes.

“Now,” Rip continued, “I know you are not going to enjoy this, Miss Lance, but there is a community of mothers in this neighborhood who I believe could provide some valuable information to us throughout the mission.”

“You want me to be a PTA mom,” Sara clarified.

“Not exactly. This group isn’t connected to any school district, but I suppose there will be similarities,” he conceded, “Mr. Snart, you’ll be working at a security company — yes, I do see the irony, Miss Lance — that also employs our target, Mr. Reyes. I do implore you to be careful. He may not be a sociopathic dictator yet, but some of those tendencies may already be there.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Leonard replied. Rip let out an exasperated breath, but said nothing until they pulled up to a driveway near the end of the street, just before a wide cul-de-sac.

Ivy and leafy, climbing bushes grew along a tall wrought-iron fence, blocking the house from view of the street.

Rip pushed a button on a remote attached to the sun visor and the gates opened to a gravel driveway. He drove underneath the drooping branches of a weeping willow tree and then they saw their new home.

It was different from what Sara had been picturing — although she wasn’t quite sure what even that had looked like.

It was very big — not quite a mansion, but about as close as a house could get in a suburban neighborhood — with a very green lawn and vibrant shrubs and flowers growing along the driveway and against the side of the house.

The walls were made of a white-painted stucco that contrasted the dark window frames and black Spanish tile roof. There were two rocking chairs on the front porch, shaded by a roof balanced on two dark wooden beams, with two floral pillows set purposefully on the seats.

“This house has been here for two hundred years,” Rip told them, “It’s been highly renovated, but the original structure remains.”

“This looks like the type of house I’d only go in to case,” Leonard said.

“Well, prepare to experience the other side, Mr. Snart,” Rip replied, “I meant it when I said ‘well-to-do’.”

They followed the driveway as it curved towards the side of the house, becoming a wide circle that looped back the way it came. In this space was parked a large moving truck.

“The house is already mostly furnished,” Rip said as he shifted the car into park, “There’s a few boxes left in the truck, just for the sake of neighbors seeing you bringing things inside.”

As Leonard unbuckled Elsie from her car seat, Rip handed Sara the keys to the SUV and got out of the car.

“There’s another car in the garage,” he told them, “A smaller one, for you to get to and from work, Mr. Snart.”

They headed for the front door.

“I know this all seems extravagant, but it’s for a reason,” Rip said, “It’s crucial to the mission that you integrate yourselves into the community of the neighborhood.” 

He fished a key out of his pocket, unlocked the front door and led them inside. 

“Mama!” Elsie pointed out one of the windows that looked into the backyard, “A pool!”

By now they had moved into the foyer, with the same white stucco as the exterior of the house. The hallway, rather than extending forwards, stretched to either side, with archways leading into other rooms. Across from the front door was a large window with stained-glass detailing that looked out into the backyard where they saw a patio and, as Elsie had pointed out, a pool. 

“Yes,” Rip said as Sara went to look, “There’s a pool back there. You also have a room with some tech that will connect you to Gideon. It’s how we can keep in contact so you don’t have to frequently return to the Waverider, but I suppose you can use her knowledge for anything else you might need — although you don’t have her medical tech or the fabricator. Hopefully, you’ll need neither.”

“Huh,” Sara said, taking the house keys Rip handed to her, “Haven’t gone grocery shopping in, like, twelve years.”

“I believe you’ll adjust, Miss Lance,” Rip replied, heading down a hallway. He pointed out a closed door across the hall, “That door leads to a bedroom — there are four bedrooms in total in the house.”

“Four?” Sara asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Rip nodded, “Three upstairs and one downstairs.”

“You do realize we don’t have five children, right?” she asked, glancing back in the direction of the car, “and the one we do have sleeps in our room half the time, so…”

“Well, if ever any of the rest of the team needed to stay in town, it wouldn’t make sense for them to stay with any of the others, so I gave you guys a couple guest rooms.”

“Great,” Leonard exhaled. 

They followed Rip into the kitchen.

It was very bright, with white cabinets and walls that contrasted the terra cotta brick tiles on the floor. A glass door in the opposite wall led out to the patio by the pool.

“In those files,” Rip said, pointing to a stack of manila folders on the marble counter, “is all the documentation you’ll need, including birth certificates, driver’s licenses, bank paperwork and the like. There’s also information you’ll need about your jobs and Elsie’s school.”

Sara nodded as Leonard opened the top most folder and started skimming over its contents.

“Mommy,” Elsie said, pulling on Sara’s arm, “I wanna go see my room.”

“First door at the top of the stairs,” Rip told her, tipping his head in the direction of the hallway. Elsie looked back to Sara.

“You can go,” Sara encouraged her.

“Can you come?” Elsie asked quietly.

“I will when Rip leaves,” Sara replied. Elsie nodded, her hand moving from Sara’s sleeve to grip onto three of her fingers.

“I trust you’ll make smart decisions,” Rip said, looking between Leonard and Sara, “It’s been a long few years, but somehow, it’s not the pair of you that concerns me anymore.”

“Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave Ray in the same building as the future mass murderer  we’re trying to take down,” Leonard drawled.

“Point taken,” Rip said with an exhale that conveyed it wasn’t the first time this issue had been raised to him.

“I think,” he continued, “it’s time for me to take my leave. Trust me when I say the neighbors will be stopping by and it’s best that I’m not here when that happens.”

“Should we be…worried, or something?” Sara asked.

Rip didn’t answer as he headed for the door.

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

“Do enjoy your time in the normal world,” he told them, “I’ll be in contact shortly with directions on how to proceed.”

And then he was gone.

“Ready to explore the new house?” Sara asked Elsie. She nodded, a mischievous smile growing on her face as she squirmed out of Sara’s arms and headed for the stairs.

Sara watched her go before she turned back to meet Leonard’s eyes.

“So we’re actually here,” she said, “I kinda thought something would happen before…”

He nodded, his eyes sweeping over the foyer of their new house.

“Mama!” Elsie called. They looked over to see Elsie sitting on the top step, “C’mon!”

“Just a second, bear,” Sara said before looking back to Leonard.

“I’m gonna go check out the town,” he told her, “get the lay of the land, figure out where everything is.”

Sara chuckled.

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a smile at the look of fondness on her face.

“Some things never change,” she said, matching his smile.

“Mommy-y,” Elsie whined from the top of the stairs.

“I’m coming,” Sara replied, starting towards the stairs. She turned back to Leonard, “Pretty sure I saw the keys for the other car on the counter if you don’t want to take the monstrosity of suburbatory.”

He nodded with a smirk and headed back towards the kitchen.

“Where’s Daddy going?” Elsie asked, getting to her feet as Sara climbed the stairs.

“He’s gonna go explore the new town,” she told her, “Find all the important places like your school and his new work.”

“But what about the new house?” she asked.

“It’ll still be here when he gets back,” Sara replied, “We can show him the coolest parts then, and maybe we can convince him to find a pizza place while he’s exploring. Sound good?”

“Yeah!” Elsie exclaimed with an excited smile.

“Okay, Rip said first door at the top of the stairs,” she said, “I think this is it.”

Elsie pushed open the door.

“Woah!” she exclaimed.

Elsie’s new room was large, bigger than her room on the Waverider. Three of the four walls were wallpapered in white flowers over a light blue background. The bed was pushed against one of the corners opposite the door, a dusty pink comforter almost completely hiding light blue sheets.

“Mommy, look! A canopy!” Elsie exclaimed.

There was indeed a canopy, a pink one that hung idly from the ceiling over the head of Elsie’s bed.

A woven tapestry was hung on the wall between two windows and above a dark wooden trunk Sara was sure was filled with toys.

Sara looked down to see Elsie lying on her back on a cream colored shag rug.

“Is that soft?” she asked, laughing.

“Uh-huh!” Elsie nodded. She jumped to her feet and ran over to the dresser, opening and closing all the drawers, “It’s empty.”

“I know,” Sara replied, “We can put all the clothes and stuff we packed yesterday in it later.”

She waited while Elsie finished exploring her room before they moved on.

There was an open living space upstairs with a big TV and a couch and some bookshelves, one of the spare bedrooms Rip had mentioned, and a bathroom that, judging by the yellow flowery shower curtain and the basket of bath toys, was supposed to be Elsie’s.

The master bedroom was also very large. Glass doors opposite the king bed opened to a balcony that looked out over the backyard.

“I want a balcony,” Elsie grumbled, gripping the metal railway and looking out at the pool, “Can we go swimming?”’

“Sure,” Sara replied, “We gotta get your boxes out of the truck, though.”

“Okay!” Elsie called, already halfway towards the stairs.

A couple hours later, Leonard returned to the house with the pizza Sara and Elsie had requested. He found them in the backyard, Sara sitting in a wicker chair on the stone patio with a book, Elsie splashing around in the shallow end of the pool, yellow inflatable floats on her arms.

“What happened to not getting in the water?” Leonard asked when he saw Sara’s damp hair. She turned towards his voice, putting her book down and standing up.

“Well, Elsie decided she wants to learn how to swim,” she replied, “and even though I managed to leave the League of Assassins…twice, I can’t say no to her.”

“Pizza!” Elsie yelped, pulling herself out of the pool. She sat down in another chair at the metal table, doing an anxious little dance as she waited for her dinner.

“You’d think we don’t feed her or something,” Sara said with raised eyebrows as she pulled a slice of pizza from the box. Elsie was eating as soon as the plate was in front of her.

“Good?” Leonard asked her.

“Uh-huh!” Elsie nodded.

“Babe, you’re dripping all over your pizza,” Sara said, “Here, let me get you a towel.”

“No-o.” she whined, leaning away.

“Okay,” Sara said, watching with an expression of bemusement as Elsie’s dripping hair left wet spots on the paper plate  She turned to Leonard, “So what’s the town like?”

“It’s nice,” he answered, nodding, “Old. A lot older than Central. We’re not too far from the university,” Leonard replied, “Jax could be here in ten minutes if he need to be. Ray’s building is a little further in the other direction, closer to the center of city. If Rip ever needs us to have a meeting all together, it’ll be here.”

“Fantastic,” Sara said drily. 

“We’re close to the beach,” Leonard added, “maybe walking distance if Elsie’s in a good mood.”

“Ooh, can we go?” Elsie asked, bouncing in her chair.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Sara told her, “Depends on the weather.”

“Nineties and sunny all week,” Leonard sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Aww, do you think you’ll make it?” Sara asked him, feigning concern.

“No,” he replied. Sara laughed, running a hand up and down his arm.

After dinner, Elsie showed Leonard all her favorite parts the new house: the canopy in her bedroom, the flowery shower curtain, the balcony. Then, after a bubble bath in the new bathtub with all her new toys, she started getting tired.

“I don’t wanna get dressed,” Elsie whined, lying in a heap on her bedroom floor, tangled in her goldfish-shaped towel.

“You have to, bear,” Sara said calmly, from her spot on Elsie’s bed, a pair of blue cotton pajamas in her hand.

“No-o,” she said tearfully.

It took another fifteen minutes to get Elsie into pajamas and downstairs.

“Long day, Else?” Leonard asked as Sara ran a hand through Elsie’s hair. 

Sara felt her nod underneath her touch.

“I’m not surprised she’s being like this,” she said, looking up at Leonard, “She was all excited about the new house, plus it’s thirty degrees warmer than she’s used to. I’m actually surprised she’s not being worse.”

“Hey!” Elsie said, her voice muffled in her arms.

“I was saying something nice, bear,” Sara told her, then added, “Sort of.”

“At least she’s not jet-lagged,” Leonard pointed out.

Sara nodded seriously.

“I guess that’s one of the perks of having a timeship — no time difference.”

“Can we read stories now?” Elsie asked.

“Not yet,” Sara shook her head.

“Why-y?”

“If we read now, you’re gonna fall asleep, and if you fall asleep now you’ll wake up at,” Sara glanced at the clock on the microwave, “four in the morning, which I don’t really want to deal with. Do you wanna color until bedtime?”

Elsie raised her head and nodded.

Just as Elsie was uncapping a yellow marker, the doorbell rang. a low chime that sounded through the house.

Sara met Leonard’s eyes.

“They’re here,” she said, feigning fear, “Turn the lights off. Hide Elsie.”

“Stay away from the windows,” he added, his voice low, a small smirk on his face as he headed for the door.

“Who’s here?” Elsie asked, looking up at Sara.

“I dunno,” Sara told her, “Some of our new neighbors probably.”

She heard the door open and then Leonard’s voice, too far away to be distinguishable words. A minute or so later, she heard footsteps in the hallway and then Leonard was walking into the kitchen with their first new neighbor behind him.

Before Leonard could introduce her, she stepped towards Sara.

“Hello!” she said in a high, clear voice, “I’m Laura.”

Laura was a tall woman, and probably only a year or so older than Sara, with brown eyes and dark brown hair that was pushed back from her face by large sunglasses. She was pretty in a fashionable way, and dressed as such in black narrow-leg pants and a white blouse. She wore shiny black heels that clicked on the tile as she approached Sara.

“Hi,” Sara replied, shaking her hand, “Sara. Nice to meet you.”

“Sara,” Laura repeated, “Nice to meet you too. Welcome to the neighborhood. Your husband was telling me that you just moved here from the states.”

“Yeah, we love it here already,” Sara replied. She saw Laura’s eyes travel to Elsie, who was making herself very small in her chair, trying her best not to be seen, “This is our daughter, Elsie. Else, can you say hi?”

“Hi,” Elsie said shyly, looking at at Laura through her lashes.

“Oh, she’s precious!” Laura exclaimed. She looked back at Sara, “How old is she?”

“Four,” Sara answered, nodding.

“How nice! I have a four year old at home as well, and an eighteen month old. They should meet!”

Before Sara could respond, Laura continued.

“There’s several kids in the neighborhood,” she said, “Myself and the other mothers get together about once a week. The kids play and we sit and have coffee and chat. Here, why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll let you know our plans for this week. You can meet everybody and your daughter can meet the kids.”

Sara recited the new number she’d memorized for the mission and Laura put it in her phone.

About five minutes after Laura left, her phone buzzed. The message read:

Hi, it’s Laura. Nice to meet you and your family today! I’ll let you know when our next get-together is.

Sara shot back a quick response and then look up at Leonard.

“I’m gonna kill Rip.”

[aesthetemyg]

Hope Angel

Genre : Angst, fluff and fantasy

Gender : Gender-neutral 

words count : 23K rip

Inspiration : Daydream By Jhope

Summary : Every night you enter a dream reality which you call “Hope World”, you are joined by a man who has been your protector since you were a little. the world “earth” is a cruel place but when you enter your dream dimension everything becomes easier and brighter but what will you do when you learn that it is falling apart?

Authors note : I love Jhope’s new mixtape so much I decided to write this in honor of our lil sunshine. please appreciate him because he worked so hard on this. I hope you like this story I worked hard on it :)

Dreaming is a series of fictional imagines, thoughts and reality that everyone experiences during sleep. Dreaming can be an outlet for hardships it can also encourage creativity. Many ideas have been fabricated by the reality of dreams. Although we have all experienced dreaming, it is an unexplainable phenomenon. Not even the most adept scientists cannot explain why we dream and how.

Most people conclude dreaming as just a thing people experience in their everyday life but not to you. Dreaming to you is not fiction but it is a reality. Each night you fall asleep to a reality that no one could even imagine. You call this dream dimension, ‘Hope World’.

You tried to explain your experience to other people but they dismissed it. They believed you were crazy, you consistently got told it was because you had a vivid imagination or it was a form of lucid dreaming. You knew this wasn’t lucid dreaming.

Lucid dreaming is a term used to describe someone having the ability to control their dream. To be able to lucid dream you need to be aware you are dreaming and after you have achieved this you can control what happens in your dreams reality. However, this doesn’t describe your experience; although you were aware you were in a dream you could not predict nor change the future of this ‘dream’.

You were desperate for more answers, you tried most of your life researching the possibilities or reasons for your dreams but overall none of it was helpful. The only person who understood what you were trying to explain was Hoseok.

Hoseok was the man who has guided you throughout your life almost like a guardian angel. It sounds bizarre to say your best friend is someone who lives within your dreams. The truth is, he was the only person you trusted. He was the only person in this entire universe that brought you happiness and joy.

You lived in a dark world; poverty, war, violence and many other horrid things you are witness too but when you enter Hope World everything seemed more hopeful (hence the name). Everything was more colourful and happy but when you lived in the real world; everything is dull and dark. It used to pain you to face the harsh truth that Earth was the reality and not Hope World. You are surrounded by so much hatred and pain that when you meet with Hoseok every night, everything becomes easier to bare.

As you came home from your low paying office job and walked into your low budget apartment, you sighed. Nothing in your life ever went the way you hoped. As a child, your mother died young which lead your father to become an abusing alcoholic. At school, you were brutally bullied and now as a twenty-four-year-old, you worked at a shitty job because you couldn’t afford to go to a decent college.

The only joy in life is your dreams, Hoseok was the guide to your happiness. As your sloppy night continued, it was finally the time you have been looking forward to. Bedtime.

As you slipped into your warm cosy pyjamas and got snuggling in your worn down mattress it was finally time to close your eyes and sink into the alternative world.

Your nose twitched as you could smell the lovely smell of honey. You open your eyes and see lime green walls surrounding you. As you sit up you witnessed the most beautiful creature you have ever seen. Hoseok. He was sitting beside you with his head in his hands.

He looked up and noticed your staring, his smile was sweet but something seemed out of the ordinary, something didn’t seem right with him. “Hoseok?” You ask, he looked dissociated as he looked towards the distance his eyes looked emotionless.

“Y/N, I have something to show you” he sighs, he still didn’t look at you; worry was taken over your body. Normally… he would greet you with a warming hug.

“Is it something bad?” You asked. You were in desperate need of an answer but instead, he stood up from the comforting white bedding. He reaches his hand out; a simple gesture but seemed so uncanny. Although this was a regular gesture between the both of you, this time, in particular, you felt uncertain. Your thoughts continued to be negative until you looked at Hoseok and saw his desperation; all negative thoughts were put at ease. You connected your hand with him and you felt his warmth against yours.

He drags you out of the single bed and drags to outside the door which leads you to an knowing long hall. A hall which seemed endless with doors after doors. Above the various colourful doors there was a ripped piece of paper with writing on it, you smile remembering all the adventures you experienced. When you were younger you and Hoseok would try and explore each room. Every room would have a different theme.

As you pass the continuous doors you begin to read the names. ‘2D origami’, a room filled with origami and everything is 2D except us. ‘Undersea swim’ a dimension filled fish and multi-coloured water. Passing these doors and remembering all the wonderful adventures brings me so much joy and happiness. Suddenly.. you began to notice you were passing doors that didn’t have writing above it.

“Hobie we have never gone this far before” you state anxiously, Hoseok always warned you to never go far down the hall because it was dangerous.

“Do you trust me?” Hoseok asked he looked at you with hopeful eyes. You were taken back by his statement but as you looked at him right at that moment and saw his beauty; the away his skin sparkled; the way his features were so perfect and pure and the way his eyes were glistening as his eyebrows were crossed; that’s when you knew your answer.

“Yes” You nod and he gave you a smile in response before turning his head back to the direction that you were heading. you kept running for what seemed like centuries, as you continued to run passing door after door you discovered something. The walls started to decay and it was becoming dark and gloomy. You looked to Hoseok for reassurance but he continued to run resulting in your view only being his brown hair. You looked on the other side of your shoulder only to reveal a darkness following you. The floor and walls were falling apart and all the brightness and colours were melting.

“Hoseok! the walls!” You cried out but he wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed your hand tighter and started to run with more speed. Your legs couldn’t take it anymore; they weren’t as fast as Hoseok’s. It began to become too much for you as you began to stumble. Hoseok looked behind him to see why you were pulling at him only to notice your struggling. He looked at you with concerned; before you could even process what he was doing you were clinging to his back for dear life. You could feel his heavy breathing against your body.

“Y/n, you need to stay calm, if you become panicked you will wake up” he explained, which only panicked you more. Before you knew it your world started to go blurry, you started to hear cars and people talking. You knew that you were gaining consciousness. You took a deep breath and sunk deeper into Hoseok back. As you calmed down your breathing your vision started to clear and you couldn’t hear the outside world anymore. “Good y/n, stay with me for a little longer” Hoseok’s encouraging words motivated you.

He stopped suddenly. You look around at your surroundings. There was a red door in your front vision, you look behind you only to witness a white void of emptiness; your world was gone. The only thing that kept you afloat was a little section of the floor Hoseok was stood on.

“Is this the end of the corridor?” You asked. You began to feel fear flow throughout your body. You weren’t sure if you were ready to take this step. You knew nothing of what could be beyond this door or what the purpose of all this was.

“Yes it is,” he said calmly. You held closer to Hoseok back feeling comfort radiating from him.

“Why are we here?” You asked. you were confused why he didn’t warn you. You were wondering why his character changed so drastically, what happened while you were away?

“I heard bad news y/n” he sighed, you saw a tear run down his cheek. Without absorbing your action; you wiped the glistening tear away from his soft delicate skin.

“Bad news?” You asked curiously. Your anxiety started to worsen.

“Let me explain when we enter” he sighs, you begin to feel horror towards what could be waiting for you behind this door. He slowly reaches for the doorknob as he twists the golden knob and creeks open the door your jaw drops.

“It is beautiful” you exclaim, your eyes are met with what seemed to be space; the stars were so bright. It was the most beautiful scene you have ever laid your eyes on.

Hoseok took a deep breath and took a step outside into the entrance. You both started to float into the void, although you were fearful you felt a sense of safety being with Hoseok. You continue to float until you reached a white bed. You began to feel curious about why you are met with a bed.

He placed you on the comfortable surface and he situated himself beside you. He looked sad and hurt, you hadn’t witnessed him this way before. You hugged your knees to your chest waiting for him to speak.

“I made this place for you y/n, I pretended I was oblivious to it all but I’m the reason you are here. I’m what people call an angel. For years my people and I have been warriors for your world and we were the creators of life. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. We created something so advanced; it was our proudest work, humans. They were us without wings and we were so fascinated by them. What we didn’t anticipate is for them to gain so much power and intelligence. You see.. angels are made with love and kindness, ever part of our souls is pure. We couldn’t even imagine creating something that would become evil. We gave humans everything: we gave them our love and gave them privileges we have never given to another creation,” he sighs.

“They took advantage of our kindness and filled it with evil. Most of my friends and family were cut from their wings and the war against angels and humans began. We weren’t born to fight so you could guess they defeated us, only 7 remained. We became the seven angels of the earth but the humans name us the seven deadly sins,”

“We watched them, we watched them lie and kill. We watched them build their islands and fight against each other but we still forgave them. We believed they had to have some pureness in the world. Each time we tried to see the good we would always be greatly disappointed until I met someone”

“I travelled down to earth to say my last goodbye, my fellow angels and i finally decided there was no hope in this world. Until I saw you, you were laughing playing with something so simple which was a stick. When I heard your laugh it was the most beautiful music to my ears” he chuckled to himself, you felt a tear run down your cheek hearing his engaging story.

“You had a magical glow of purity and it was so powerful. I knew from that day my destiny changed, my destiny was to protect you. Protect you from all bad, all evil and self-doubt.”

“So I created ‘Hope World’ a dream reality where we could spend every night. The problem was the more you were here the more I fell in love with you. I feel in love with your positive thinking, I fell in love with your beauty, I fell in love with everything about you. I fell for you y/n and it hurts so much” he started to cry, you pulled him into your chest and hugged him tightly. You cried together until he pulled away from your grasp.

“They found me, the angels found me and they revealed to me that the humans have found out about my connection to you. They will kill you if we stick together so I need to leave, Y/N,” he said and held your hands tightly against his grasp, you looked at him in despair. This was too much to take in, you couldn’t believe you were in this situation.

“H-hoseok, you cant leave me,” you said tears flooding down your eyes. He lifted his hand and wiped the tears from cheeks.

“Don’t worry my love, will meet again, please trust me” hoseok smiled, but his smile was filled with sadness.

“Please, I love you too, please you cant leave now” you plead with his hand against your cheek. He leaned his forehead against yours and you could feel his breath against your skin.

“Look after yourself okay? Quit your job, go back to college and become something. You need to live a long hopeful life. Promise me” he whispered.

“I cant-“

“Please promise me,” he said needy and afraid. You were scared, he admitted he loved you and now he is telling you he is leaving?

“I promise” you give in. Your sight becomes blurry and you begin to feel the world slip away from you. “No! No! Please, i want to stay longer!” You scream feeling yourself fade away.

“Keep your promise and we will see each other again I promise” he shouts but you can no longer see a sight of him. Before you can shout back you wake up on your mattresses filled with sweat and tears.

_______________ 

Do you want a prologue? let me know

I appreciate you all dearly, thank you for reading 

[prettyboy-jimin]

Cherry Red II

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Genre: Smut with plot?

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: Yoongi’s had enough of Jimin playing around, and realizes some things on his own

Note: I am telling y’all now, I have no idea how to write smut, I winged it all, I have no experience, I need references, I had no references but you asked for it so here! You! Go! Ohmygod it’s finally done I’m pretty sure I screamed in relief in the middle of class once I finished. I am so sorry if this sucks, this is my first ever Yoonmin smut, I don’t know how to write smut ohmygod please be gentle (Not proofread btw)

Upon arriving at their shared suite, Yoongi had never seen Jimin dash for his room as fast as he had when they stepped in. Taehyung and Jungkook staring with wide confused eyes as their hyungs merely laughed and teased an exasperated Yoongi.

The presidential suite had three separate bedrooms, all of which contained their own bathroom. Namjoon and Jin one shared without much protest from the other members, Yoongi and Hoseok were paired together which left the maknae to create chaos in a room of their own.

Yoongi sat on his bed as he dug through his bag for something to wear, when Jin said get ready for dinner, it often meant that they were going out for the night and going back to work tomorrow. Yoongi had almost forgotten they were in the middle of a tour. Yoongi reached for his black ripped jeans, throwing a shirt similar to the one he was wearing over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom. Upon passing the open door that lead to the living room, Yoongi caught sight of Jimin; in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Jimin stopped just as Yoongi had, noticing the older boy just the same. Yoongi blinked repeatedly as his mouth hung slightly, trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. A smirk made its way to Jimin’s face and he hadn’t tried to control it. His hand gripped one end of the towel that was tucked into his hip as he took slow steps towards the door. Jimin eyed Yoongi with a newfound confidence, and Yoongi wasn’t sure if Jimin was faking it this time or not. Yoongi stared at Jimin’s slow moving figure, the dancer’s fingers leisurely pulling at the white fabric. Yoongi gulped down the saliva that began to gather in his mouth, watering at the idea of seeing what Jimin had been keeping under those tight leather jeans during countless performances.

Jimin tilted his head to the side, water dripping from his still wet hair. He watched as Yoongi gawked at his toned abs, Jimin hadn’t been working out as much anymore but he still made sure to keep his figure in good condition.

The younger boy could feel the towel loosen around him, his V-line coming into delicious view for Yoongi. Jimin thought he saw a drop of sweat roll down Yoongi’s temple but he couldn’t be sure. The ruckus caused by their friends in Namjoon and Seokjin’s shared room didn’t hinder Jimin’s hungry gaze.

With one hand plucking the towel from his skin at an agonizingly slow pace, Jimin’s other made its way to the door handle but Yoongi was in too much of a daze to notice; the growing bulge in his shorts making Jimin smile. The towel fell away from Jimin’s backside; exposing a large portion of his muscular thigh and making Yoongi choke back a breath, the dancer’s front still, disappointingly, very covered. Jimin broke into a full out smile, his eyes turning into little crescents as the hand he had placed on the door slowly pushed it towards its frame. Clicking in place as Jimin locked it to avoid anyone walking in on him changing.

Yoongi stood frozen in his place, still staring at the door with a cold sweat running down his neck even when Hoseok had finally exited his hyungs’ room, Taehyung’s loud yelling slicing through the thick tension Jimin had left Yoongi to bask in.

“Hyung?” Hoseok’s voice came, Yoongi looked at him sharply, breathing laboured as he swallowed down the urge to storm over to Jimin’s room, bang on the door and attack the young dancer as soon as he’d open it. He’d pay for this later. “What’s gotten into you?”

Yoongi was just about to choke out a poor excuse which would’ve been taken for word vomit until he realised how hard Jimin had made him from the sinful show he performed. Gulping nervously, he readjusted his shorts, fidgeting profusely so as to confuse Hoseok even further. “N-Nothing.”

Hoseok was going to ask him what had happened but Yoongi cut him off before he could get a word out, dashing into the bathroom with haste and a death grip on the doorknob as he slammed it close and locked it behind him. The throb in his groin dulling slightly but not lessening any of his discomfort; At least it was his turn to shower.

Yoongi loved alcohol. He loved getting drunk with his friends and laughing at nothing in particular just because everything was so funny.

What Yoongi didn’t like was the crappy music and stench of sweat that radiated off the mosh pit of a place that was known enough to be the talk of the town, but let absolutely anyone in. He understood that everyone was here to have fun, so was he, but he just couldn’t get over his pet peeves. It took too much effort. Young had been to countless clubs and parties, the idol life generously supplying them with contacts and “friends”, but never had he ever sat in their designated VIP booth and scowl at the crowded merriment he found himself in, until now.

Taehyung was already on his third glass of beer, had downed his fifth shot of the night and was just about to order a flaming blowjob when a slightly lesser than drunken Jungkook pulled his arms down and told Taehyung to at least finish his beer before getting a new drink. The maknae was visibly touchy feely with Taehyung, unconsciously snuggling into his neck when the latter would sit back and take a breather and as well as keeping a hand rested on Taehyung’s thigh so as to reassure Taehyung, or himself, that someone was going to take care of him.

Young thought that Jungkook was doing a horrible job of doing keeping Taehyung in check, since he was on the verge of wasted just the same.

Seokjin was the designated driver for the night. Sipping on a strawberry margarita, he sat with a leg folded over the other and watched his dongsaengs enjoy themselves… and humiliate themselves. Namjoon chose to liven up, but not as far as Taehyung took himself. Being the leader of the group required him to be painstakingly presentable at all times, even if they were all out having fun and letting loose; so Namjoon had to sit tight with Seokjin.

Hoseok was the one feeding Taehyung his alcohol, Yoongi observed, and had become the younger’s hype man for the night; shouting and cheering at Taehyung to drink faster and order some more. Why wasn’t Yoongi’s only hung in the group scolding him and nursing the young maknae to sobriety, Young wanted to know as well.

With his arms crossed, glare settled on his face, Yoongi threw a leg over the other and leaned into the cushioned booth. The bass of mainstream song reverberated through his eardrums and Yoongi thought of how he could easily produce a better song, with a sicker beat.

But these people probably wouldn’t know good music even if it hit them in the face. Oh well.

Yoongi sighed, reaching for his rum and coke and taking light sips from it, eyeing the crowd for a subject of any level of interesting.

Jimin had been eyeing Yoongi the entire night, hoping to drag his hyung’s attention onto him so they could get to more fun activities rather than sitting here and being as miserable as they both were, watching Taehyung humiliate himself as well as the rest of them as well as dealing with crappy music. Jimin could see that Yoongi was trying his hardest not to storm over to the DJ and take over. He could see him biting the inside of his cheek, a clear attempt at trying to control himself.

“Hyung” Jimin called, momentarily forgetting that he had four of them. He laughed, apologizing for not being more specific. “Yoongi-hyung”

Seokjin, Hoseok and Namjoon all went back to watching their personal entertainment, Taehyung, as Jimin nodded his head towards the rest rooms of the VIP area. He stood up, not bothering to look back or wait for Yoongi to catch up. Jimin knew he would follow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at Jimin, the rest of his friends not noticing the tension that Yoongi was suffocating in, or not saying anything to acknowledge it. He stood up; following behind him with his hands inserted into his the pockets of his skinny jeans.

“Jiminah?” he called, pushing the door to the male’s restroom open and stepping inside cautiously as he kept a keen eye out for where the young dancer was. As Yoongi trekked further into the tiled room, the door behind him slammed shut, with a smug looking Jimin leaning against it whose arms were crossed on his chest.

“Jiminah what is this?” Young asked, tone uninterested and face fallen. “You’re all over the place, but you’re not.”

The dancer cocked his head to the side, a tiny teasing smile on his face as he locked the door behind him and slowly approached Yoongi. Jimin could see the older boy stiffen slightly, his jaw tightening and his shoulders drawing back with every step Jimin took. With no space between them, Jimin’s hard on pressing lightly against Yoongi’s as his hands made their way to rest on Yoongi’s chest.

“Hyung, you didn’t finish something.” Jimin smiled devilishly, leaning forward to brush his lips against the doll-like pair he’s been dying to kiss for a long time. “I want you to finish it.”

With a growl and sharp exhale, Yoongi ripped Jimin’s hands off his clothed skin and pushed him harshly to the door.

“You think you get to play with me like this?” Yoongi questioned, hands slamming against the door beside Jimin’s head, the dancer’s eyes frantic and wide as he stared into Yoongi’s blown pupils. “Are you even ready for me?”

Jimin relaxed, and he scoffed.

“You underestimate me, hyung.” Jimin whispered, biting the rapper’s lower lip teasingly, “Why don’t you undress me and see just how ready I am?”

Yoongi pulled back, withdrawing a hand from where it lay and gripping Jimin’s face harshly with his long fingers. The other making its way south, similarly cupping the tent that had formed in Jimin’s tight jeans.

The younger boy moaned shamelessly, pushing his hips farther into Yoongi’s, begging for more friction, more force, more anything. Jimin was desperate to be touched and he wanted Yoongi to do it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a smile as Yoongi’s eyes lowered to watch.

Yoongi grabbed Jimin’s shoulders harshly, forcing him to turn around and press the side of his face against the bathroom door. Jimin was thankful Seokjin had agreed to the maknaes pleas to enjoy themselves at a club, or his plan would never have been put into action; not anywhere any quieter than this, if the adjective could apply to the entertainment hub for that matter, which Jimin is also thankful for that it doesn’t.

“I wanted to do this once we got back,” Yoongi whispered, pressing his lips to the skin of Jimin’s neck “knowing the others would be too worn out to wake up when you’d be screaming my name but I guess a little slut like you doesn’t know how to wait, hmm?”

Jimin whimpered at Yoongi’s words, jolts of electricity making their way down his spine to the growing bulge that Yoongi was massaging gently. Shallow breaths and rugged pants drifted through Jimin’s lips, his eyes clenching shut as he tried to withstand the teasing Yoongi was putting him through.

Yoongi didn’t say much thereafter, merely continuing to nip and bite at whatever exposed skin Jimin let him have while the latter continued to non-verbally beg for more.

Yoongi pressed his crotch into Jimin’s ass, the pressure causing a low growl to rise from his throat and a slightly higher pitched whine to escape from Jimin’s. Yoongi realised that he hadn’t even kissed the younger, feeling kind of guilty but unable to do anything about it given their current position. So he tried to make it up to Jimin by leaving a trail of wet kisses down the side of his neck, biting at the bend where Jimin’s neck connected to his shoulders. Yoongi bit and sucked at the tan skin, making sure to leave a mark for everyone to see, not to show them that he was Yoongi’s, but simply that Jimin was taken; and he happened to be taken by Yoongi.

The elder’s name fell in the form of a breathless plea from Jimin’s plump lips, the lower half practically swollen from his biting and worrying of it but as Yoongi squeezed him harder, Jimin only grinded faster and more desperately into his hand, letting Yoongi tug his hair with the other. He wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist, grinding his own erection into the younger. Groans and grunts falling between them as their pants grew painfully tight.

“Hyung” Jimin whined, his eyes struggling to stay open and his breathing uneven as Yoongi rutted his hips into him. “They’re going to wonder where we are.”

“Let them.” Yoongi growled, biting down particularly hard on Jimin’s shoulder as he unraveled the limb that he’d wrapped around Jimin moments earlier, allowing his hands to fall towards the Jimin’s zipper. Yoongi stepped back slightly, Jimin following suit and supplying the elder with some sort of space to work at his pants.

When Yoongi finally popped Jimin’s button open and practically tore down his zipper, he fell to his knees; bringing the clinging fabric with him and eliciting a gasp from Jimin. Hours upon hours upon hours spent in the gym and practice room over the course of Jimin’s dance life had paid off, Yoongi was convinced of this, as he was face to face with soft skin and firm muscle, kneading the hardworking dancer’s ass cheeks with both his hands. Jimin hummed appreciatively. Yoongi then spread them apart, exposing Jimin’ entrance and then lapping at it with his tongue; he could hear Jimin gasp and moan for more as Yoongi painted a generous amount of saliva onto his skin, kissing and nipping at it as he went.

“So pretty” Yoongi hummed, placing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach “And all mine too, right Minnie?”

As Yoongi punctuated his sentence, he took a significant amount of skin into his mouth and bit down as hard as he could, sending Jimin sliding down the door slightly and further into Yoongi’s face as he moaned loudly and clawed at the wooden door he was set against. He struggle to answer, but gave Yoongi a vigorous nod and pleading “Mhm”

But Yoongi wasn’t satisfied.

“I didn’t hear you Minnie.” He growled, withdrawing to a distance and spanking Jimin as hard as he could from such a restricting position.

“Ah! Yes! Yes, hyung, yes.” Jimin moaned, “All yours. Only yours. Please.”

“That’s more like it”

Yoongi soothed his tongue over the red bite mark he’d left on Jimin’s skin, it wouldn’t bruise, but it was just Yoongi taking the extra step to ensure that Jimin knew he meant no harm and no damage. Soon after inserting his tongue gently into Jimin’s hole, gradually stretching him open for Yoongi’s cock.

Jimin was prepared.

Jimin had been preparing ever since they’d gotten back to the hotel room after Seokjin had interrupted his heated conversation with Yoongi. If Jimin was honest with himself, he’s not at all sure he would have been able to stop himself from throwing himself at Yoongi and devouring him then and there in front of all those people if Seokjin hadn’t cleared his throat of his non-existent phlegm. He was thankful. The evident embarrassment and tent in his pants had given Jimin a sense of reason and control as they all made their way down back to their suite and he had practically locked himself in the maknae’s room.

Jimin would willingly damn himself to the underworld rather than having the other six know that he brings “Stress relievers” wherever they go. No one knows this aside from the airport security guards that conduct the x-ray process of his luggage wherever they fly places. But Jimin’s not stupid enough to keep some in his hand-carry. They’re not drugs or alcohol or things of those kinds but it would still garner Jimin, Bangtan and especially BigHit a lot of unwanted attention from the public. As proven in his current situation with Yoongi; Jimin was prepared.

Well prepared.

His ‘stress relievers’ give and allow him as much. Very gratefully to his rescue earlier in the day, Jimin had the choices between his rabbit vibrator, his reasonably unreasonable sized purple dildo, and a large baby blue butt plug. Jimin was invigorated by the choices that lay before him. His hyungs’ and dongsaengs’ voices drifting through the cracks of the door that separated Jimin from their world, reminding him that this is real, he really is going to—somehow—get Yoongi to fuck him. The thought was exciting and Jimin had managed to make himself come untouched under the warm spray of the hotel shower, the thought of Yoongi pounding into him in a semi-public setting later that night turned Jimin on more than he was proud to admit. So when Jimin had caught Yoongi, rather when they had caught each other, and he had successfully teased the other without so much as batting an eye—Jimin knew that he’d be able to get Yoongi to do exactly what he wanted, maybe even do exactly what Yoongi wanted but suppressed.

With Jimin’s face no pressed against the gradually warming bathroom door, he almost can’t believe that Yoongi is finally, fucking finally, eating his ass out the way Jimin always thought he would. Not only did his rapper tongue send the skilled dancer to Hong Kong, it sent Jimin to all sorts of places, making him fell all sorts of things all at once. When Jimin felt Yoongi’s tongue enter his hole, he wasn’t expecting it so soon, clenching and unclenching with a gasp but soon after relaxing as Yoongi kept thrusting the muscle into him.

“F-fuck, Yoongi-hyung” Jimin swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth, literally watering at the idea of Yoongi finally sinking his cock into Jimin’s hole, whichever one—Jimin didn’t really care. “Ugh, so f-fucking good, h-hyung”

Yoongi hummed against Jimin’s skin, continuing to lap at and distribute the improvised lube generously. He let a cheek go, its warmth pressing against the side of his face as Yoongi reached around to pump Jimin’s length. The younger let out a significantly loud groan, unconsciously bucking his hips into Yoongi’s hand and making the elder’s tongue run deeper than it already was.

“Yoongi!” Jimin gasped “Yoongi fuck me please, I need you to fuck me”

Yoongi grunted, the sheer desperation and need in Jimin’s voice sending jolts of electricity down Yoongi’s spine and even more blood to the head that Yoongi wasn’t supposed to think with. With one hand still wrapped around Jimin’s length, Yoongi stood as he made his other hand move to the younger’s hip, and as Yoongi turned the dancer around, his back now against the door as Yoongi captured Jimin’s lips in an eager, wet kiss.

Jimin moaned into Yoongi’s mouth as the paler of the two sucked on his tongue, biting gently and letting go; repeating the process as their hands found each other and began to grope at whatever patch of clothing or skin they could find. Jimin’s length exposed to the cold air while Yoongi was still fully clad but just as hard.

“Hyung, strip for me” Jimin gasped against Yoongi’s lips, his breathing causing the latter to shiver and, for some reason, obey.

Yoongi pulled himself off, pulling his black t-shirt over his head as Jimin’s hands fly to work at his jeans’ button and zipper. Once those had been delightfully disposed of, the two worked to get Jimin’s clothes off—completely. With the door locked and full confidence that no one would bother looking for them for a while, Yoongi devoured Jimin’s mouth again, the younger’s arms thrown around his neck where his clung to Jimin’s waist and brought themselves over to the counter tops by the sinks. A loud hiss escapes Jimin’s lips through their kiss as his back hits the cold mirror behind him, urinals littered the wall behind Yoongi as opened his eyes in a daze.

Jimin’s cheeks were flushed, his bottom lip swollen and his entire aura radiating sex. Yoongi wondered how long Jimin had wanted this, if he was just doing all this for Yoongi’s sake.

“Wait” he whispered, eyes still on Jimin’s mouth, hands going limp but not loosening their grip on the dancer’s hips.

“Yoongi, what is it?” Jimin raised a hand to cup Yoongi’s cheek in good-natured concern, his eyebrows furrowing slightly and his breathing gradually coming to a leveled pattern. “Do you want to stop? We can stop; we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Jimin” he whispered, eyes wide and searching the other’s. “I think”

“What is it?”

“You’re beautiful”

A bashful smile stretched on Jimin’s glowing face, his cheeks tinging a dark red at Yoongi’s sweet, unexpected words.

“Yoongi” Jimin said lowly “You’re literally telling me this right when you’re about to fuck me in the bathroom of a club in Hawaii?”

Yoongi smiled, Jimin following suit as soon as he saw his hyung no longer tense. He brought his hand back to Yoongi’s cheek, the latter cupping the other side and called his name within a whisper, pulling his face up and resting their foreheads against each other with their eyes slightly closed.

“Why don’t you fuck me until everyone in this club knows I’m all yours?”

“Fuck, you don’t have to tell me twice”

Jimin jumped off the counter, tightening his hold around Yoongi’s neck as he captured his lips once again, struggling to control his smile and kiss properly. Yoongi reached his hand down to wrap around Jimin’s length, making the younger gasp into their kiss and giving Yoongi the opportunity to take Jimin’s tongue into his mouth and suck.

“Yoongi,” Jimin panted, pulling away as Yoongi tried to chase after his lips “Yoongi, I can’t take it, just fuck me already.”

“So impatient”

Yoongi turned the dancer around, shoving his upper body down onto the counter top and trailing his hand down the length of his back, finally stopping to squeeze and clutch at Jimin’s ass once again.

“Yoongi I swear to god right now”

“Shut up” Yoongi growled, punctuating his command with a slap to Jimin’s ass, emanating a long groan from the latter. Yoongi spat into his hand, enveloping his hardened length and experimenting with a few strong tugs. He rubbed the head against Jimin’s hole, pushing in slightly to see how easily or how difficult it would be for Jimin to take him in. “You’re going to get what’s coming to you one way or another, you slut.”

Jimin hummed delightfully at the degradation, feeling so erotically filthy for his hyung.

Yoongi spat again and rubbed his hand against his mode of entrance, not usually a fan for this but any lubrication was better than no lubrication. Jimin let out breathy gasps and short moans, enjoying the feeling of Yoongi’s long and gentle fingers.

“Hyung, hurry the fuck—oh fuck!”

Yoongi let out a long groan, throwing his head back as he relished in the feeling of being inside Jimin. Finally. A slight push of resistance forced him to slow down, needing to push harder as he continued. Once buried to the hilt, Yoongi was panting, and finally held his head upright and looked at the gorgeous person bent in front of him. Jimin was resting his forehead against the top of his forearm, his back rising and falling desperately and sweat only beginning to bead on his skin.

It made Yoongi feel proud of his self.

“You need to relax”

“I am”

“Your asshole says otherwise”

“Fuck you”

“Aren’t you already?”

“Fucking bitch, Yoongi I swear to god will you just shut up and—“

Jimin finished with a grunt, with Yoongi already understanding his hilariously eager pleas as the elder retreated until only the head lay inside, and thrust back into Jimin until his hips were pressing against firm flesh. There was still a slight resistance to Yoongi’s advancements; he could see Jimin shutting his eyes tightly through the mirror, breathing through his mouth in short gasps and vivid moans.

“Relax, baby” he cooed, running a hand up and down Jimin’s strong back in attempts to soothe him “You’re doing so good for me, so, so good for hyung”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes still closed but visibly less tense than before. Gradually, Yoongi was able to move smoothly, gaining speed with a sense of neediness, and vigor. His grip on Jimin’s hips tightened; his fingers digging into the dancer’s soft tan skin that he’s sure would leave discoloration. As Yoongi sped up, Jimin became louder; the sound of skin on skin echoing through the tiled walls of the club’s bathroom, the EDM’s bass ringing through the subtly vibrating walls. Yoongi grunted, relishing in the feeling of warmth that surrounded his pride, Jimin tightening himself around Yoongi only made the latter fuck him even more forcefully than before.

Jimin’s upper body was moving back and forth from how hard Yoongi thrust into him, having to brace himself with a sweaty hand on the clear mirror, but becoming too weak to hold it up, eventually having it slide back down onto the counter; leaving a print made of warm sweat.

With a growl and his eyebrows scrunched together, Yoongi reached lower to lift Jimin’s left leg onto the counter. The younger’s flexibility allowed Yoongi better access, and a better angle. With Jimin spread wider than before, Yoongi reached a particular spot inside of Jimin that he was struggling to find earlier; making him scream.

“Yoongi! There! Right there!”

He kept his angle, thrusting harder, faster, and continued rubbing against Jimin’s prostate with fervor. Jimin couldn’t control his moans even if he tried, the feeling of fullness finally enveloping him, the feeling of wholeness as Yoongi was finally inside him overwhelmed the younger.

Yoongi reached for Jimin’s hair, pulling him up to make him watch their sinful act in the now fogging mirror. His back arched at a painful angle, but Yoongi knew that Jimin was enough of a talented dancer to not mind it. The younger’s mouth fell open, grunts and moans mixed in with his inhales and exhales of breath, the occasionally need to swallow down the excess saliva forming in his mouth. Jimin watched as Yoongi bit his lip, concentrating on lasting long and making Jimin come first. He gyrated his hips, trying to touch and rub as much of Jimin’s inner walls as he could reach, the motions earning Yoongi strangled whimpers and choked back profanities.

Jimin could feel the tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach, a fire burning inside his gut as his balls seemed to bear too much of what he had to offer. He told Yoongi this, whining out the words he knew he wouldn’t be able to say properly. Yoongi sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin bouncing off the four corners of the bathroom.

He pulled out of Jimin, eliciting a disappointed and frustrated whine from him but Yoongi only turned him around once more, wordlessly, and set him on the counter top yet again. Yoongi pulled Jimin’s hips towards him, the dancer’s ass hanging off the edge and causing Jimin to lie back on his elbows as Yoongi thrust into him again.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasped, his voice going hoarse and sending shivers up and down Yoongi’s spine. He bit his lip before trying to speak again, “I’m so close, please.”

It was with four curious knocks to the bathroom door that Yoongi unconsciously decided to wreck Jimin, pounding into him with a newfound rashness. Jimin couldn’t shut his mouth even if he tried, he may not have heard the knocks on the door, but from whomever those knocks originated from; they could hear Jimin loud and clear. And they knew who was making Jimin as vocal as he was.

Yoongi grabbed Jimin’s length tightly, trying to tug it along with the rhythm he had established his thrusts to. “Come for me, Jimin. Come for hyung like a good boy.”

Jimin let out a long groan as he twitched in Yoongi’s hold, spurts of hot cum shooting towards him and landing on his chest and along his abs. Yoongi’s thrusts turned sloppy but didn’t decrease in rigidity, Jimin’s legs wrapped around the elder’s waist as he scraped his nails down Yoongi’s chest, making sure to capture his nipples right in the middle of it. Yoongi released what Jimin could only label as an animalistic moan, his dick tightening inside of Jimin before finally going still, spurting his thick cum into Jimin. Yoongi grunted with every release, pressing himself further and harder as he continued to let go.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing and no dialogue exchange, Yoongi pulled out of Jimin, much to the latter’s disappointment and made his way to the tissue dispenser. Jimin lay on the counter top, uncomfortably, with his legs dangling off the edge as Yoongi came back to wipe him off. Muttering an apology as he started to clean the younger, Jimin flinched; still sensitive and sore from how Yoongi handled him.

“In my defense, you’re the one who wanted me to make you scream.”

Jimin’s forearm covered his eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily and rumbling with laughter as Yoongi asked him what had happened to his dancer’s stamina. They redressed in silence, an occasional giggle escaping from Jimin as Yoongi shot him a wink or a smirk. The elder shot a pout as soon as Jimin had pulled up his boxers and zipped up his jeans, earning a playful smack from his visual muse of the moment.

“So what now?” Yoongi asked, clearing his throat in disappointment, he didn’t expect himself to sound so vulnerable. He assumed that because he called Jimin beautiful, the younger might have an idea or some kind of glimpse of what Yoongi felt for him but then again, Jimin’s always been told he’s beautiful; Yoongi was just part of a really long list.

“Hyung,” Jimin muttered, approaching the other slowly “I really like you” Yoongi’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, certainly not expecting that. “But I don’t know if we can do this.”

“Why not?”

“Fans, management, the public eye constantly on us now that we’re going global.” Jimin pursed his lips together; reaching for Yoongi’s hands to wrap his own in. “The list goes on.”

Yoongi nodded his head, a humorless smile stretching on his face. He kissed Jimin once, hard, and a real smile took the place of the one before as he pulled himself away.

“That’s in public Jimin.” He chuckled, pulling his dongsaeng towards the door to finally reunite with the others. “Doesn’t mean we can’t do more of this in private, right?”

Jimin couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

[meihemtrash]

Decadence

Meihem for @caromellarts. I was yah secret Valentine! I hope you and the rest of this lovely fandom enjoys!

Rating: NSFW//SUGGESTIVE

Pairing: Mei/Junkrat

Summary: A mercenary for hire, Mei’s latest expedition leads her to an abandoned cottage where she hunts a dangerous shifter claiming the the manor to be his home. As Mei uncovers the truth of the beast that lives here, her vampiric instincts lull her to temptation like nothing she’s ever known. (A smutty au with lots of smooches and lovebites) (tw. blood)

One shifter. One tiny witch’s cottage. Mei fully expected to earn her money’s worth on this expedition. She shifted her hooded gaze upwards, to the house in question sitting high upon a meadow’s hill. White picket fencing squared off the humble, flowered lot. She could sense a menial barrier spell in place and spied the black runes etched along fence posts.

With a wave of her hand, the enchantment crumbled, yielding to her power and giving her free passage. A tempest picked up, threatening to send her wide brim hat billowing in the wind. She cupped one hand to her head, the other to the silver sword snug against her thigh. Hair whipped her cheeks, lashed her sun-chapped skin till her eyes watered.

The tumultuous wind halted once she’d stepped over, only a lazy, warm summer breeze greeted her now. Fat dandelions wafted in the current, lacy umbels clung to her dark fabrics, decorating her breeches with iridescent fronds.

As lovely as it were, high grasses promised the best cover for her prey.

Quietly, she stalked, oh so thankful for the breath her body no longer required. Her sharp eyes had begun to ache in the setting sun’s light, but blessedly, dusk would cover soon. She’d be at her best, prowling the land studiously.

Mei couldn’t help but gaze at the surrounding area with appreciation.The late witch of this manor had lived a most beautiful life. Ever fruitful garden surrounded an unyielding stone cottage. Vegetation clung to every surface, blanketing her view in hues of brilliant green. Songbirds hummed a late evening tune, giving way to the noisier crickets and toads at this hour.

A worn path led her through arches of climbing flowers, little bees worked hard around her. Their buzzing a perfect companion to the bubbling rush of water flowing inside grounded stone channels. Mosaiced lovingly into the landscape— the man made rivers beckoned her towards the garden’s centerpiece. Awash in the scent of husk berries, nearly choked by climbing roses— sat a tiny greenhouse.

Mei tilted her head, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. She reached forward to touch a glass panel, withdrawing to feel heat on the other side. She parted the thick bundles of roses with care—  silly, considering she’d no reason to— and to her surprise, beyond the obscure glass, she saw a dying fire in what looked to be a woodstove. Brows knitted, she circled the building. The doorknob had been cleverly disguised as a rose at one time, but now the worn lacquer coat revealed oxidized brass.

She’d been told there were but one property, not two. As she slipped beyond the double doors, she wondered, could someone have lived here?  Inside, she confirmed her suspicions. The scent of a shifter overpowered this solitary space. Not even the roses creeping in from the port window above could dilute it. Heady and rich. Like good soil and cold rain.

The greenhouse’s occupant had made ingenious use of its rounded shape and limited area. Book shelves lined the walls all the way to the top— hanging baskets, some with fruit, others with trinkets circled above. Papers littered the stone floor and on closer inspection, Mei realized they were someone’s blueprints. Intricately detailed prototypes of odd mechanisms. She picked one up as delicately as she’d handled the roses. The scrawled handwriting in the corner signed simply ‘J’.

“I have no idea,” She set one away for another, “What these are…” Mei murmured while she folded one up. A treasure from her conquest she tucked into her boot.

She ambled around, nearly tripping on bedding sheets. A flattened pillow and mass of blankets were tucked to one side of the greenhouse, snugly against what appeared to be a drawing board. Beneath it were…prosthetics? Laying carelessly as if they’d been thrown.

Mei crouched, hips popping and hat floating to the floor. She reached for the metal casts, thumbed the little cuts and indentations curiously. A forearm and leg. Both right. Joints interlocking perfectly, well oiled and squeak free.

Peculiar.

Put back in their places, Mei stood. She dusted her trousers, raining snowy petals that shimmered in the sunbeams struggling through. Admiring the fine arboretum a final time, she went to the door almost reluctantly. This warm room hidden among the flowers called to her. Tugged the tethers of her wilder instincts, urging her to perhaps purchase this manner once her job was finished.

With a sigh, she exited, sealing the entrance behind her. The roses mended themselves, coiling over one another like snakes.

Mei had known nothing like this in her childhood and felt foolish now for thinking herself nostalgic. Not completely lost in the fog of her daydreaming, she tensed as rustling sounded in the husk berry thicket ahead. If her heart still beat it’d likely be in her throat. Ten centuries in the mercenary trade and she could still jump at a pin drop. Mei blamed her heightened senses.

Now, she listened well, already perceiving the faint intake of sharp breaths her target took. She approached the bordering thatch while a tiny, frantic heartbeat ticked in her ears. Mei narrowed her gaze on shuddering leaves and movement just beyond. She nearly shouted when a barn owl leapt from the brush, blood dappling its snow white wings. The creature took to the sky, stark against the darkening canvas.

She chased without hesitation, satisfaction surging like nothing else when the bird swooped low, seemingly disappearing in the meadowy grass enveloping the estate. A laugh escaped her when the little barn owl shuddered on its ascent, shifting its form in an explosion of tendons, bone and plumage. Amidst the falling feathers, an enormous black dog emerged. Shoulders hunkered, casting Mei an unreadable expression before bolting.

Their chase led them far past the property fence line, where she could see the dog’s gait growing slower and slower— heartbeat sluggish and breaths laborious. Perplexed, she watched the shifter tear almost immediately back towards the manor.

“You’re not allowed to be here!” Mei shouted after the creature, clambering over the fence.

“You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here.” A guttural, undeniably accented voice growled in response. Sending shivers dancing up her spine.

Huffing, she tore after her target and unsheathed her sword. She leapt for the beast, hacked its ankles— faulting in severing a foot, but managing to nick deep enough to earn her a pitiful howl. Blood suffused the air, suffocating her for a wild moment before she cleared her senses. Seemingly unscathed, the dog darted— leaving a trail right to the garden for her to follow.

The overwhelming need to care for a wounded animal disappeared upon reminding herself this creature was no scared pup or barn owl, but a devious shifter she’d been told had murdered the good witch that’d lived here before.  That thought fueled her next actions. With precision unmatched in her field, she flung her sword for the head of the beast, missing by a hair. Her blade skewered the earth, warbling a metallic song.

The creature yipped, tucking bushy tail and delving into the rose thickets. Mei had to shield her nose from the intoxicating aroma of blood flourishing. Thorns scored flesh and ripped tendons. The shifter’s heartbeat transitioned to a shrill rhythm, signaling its change to a smaller animal. She fell to her knees, face pressed against the ground as she spied a tiny mouse darting amongst the foliage.

Mei reached into the depths, snagged the plump mouse and wrenched it free, cutting herself in the process. The sting of spurs faded with the conquest of her bounty. Little teeth bored into her hand, the fangs snapping larger in an instant as the shifter reshaped.

Writhing from her grasp in another ghastly explosion of sinew and bone, a deformed black dog emerged once more, cords of muscle slithering over one another in an attempt to fuse. Mei gasped, shocked as the transformation failed utterly— sending her target sprawling backwards.

Ahead of her, unconscious in the grass, lay a man. His skin mending before her eyes, leaving behind a perfectly formed person. His tousled blonde hair a stormy mess abound his freckled face. His bruiser nose fittingly crooked with the rest of his sharp features.

Striding forward, Mei chanced a touch with her boot. She kicked the dirtied sole of his foot, awakening him with a start. His eyes flashed open, petrified as he scrambled away from her, dragging himself as best he could through the grass.

Mei reached behind her, retrieving her sword from the dirt.

“O-our sudden introduction is lacking any formal— er introduction.” The shifter trembled violently as he placed his left hand— his only hand— over his bare, hammering chest. “I-I’m Jamie. Jamison Fawkes, ma’am— “ His voice wavered. “A-and we can call you bloodthirsty huntress in all practical sense.”

Mei scowled at his use of the word bloodthirsty. As if he knew just what she was. She poised the tip of her sword at his throat. She needn’t but thrust lazily and sever his bickering. He swallowed audibly, sweat beading on his furrowed, unmanaged brow. Realization dawned as the sun set finally behind her.

Cold night swaddled her in its familiar embrace, soothing the sun’s brutal treatment of her skin. Daylight tended to smother her senses since The Change. Her horrific transition from human to devil. Vampire. During day hours direct sunlight had her flesh blistering, even the indirect warmth of it fatigued her. Time in the sun wilted her, but the moon’s cold shine did nothing but give.

“You’re radiant.” He stated matter-o-factly, motioning towards her. “Like— you’re glowing. In your cheeks.” He cupped his own face, gazing at her with wide amber eyes.

Mei touched a hand to her cheeks, not surprised to find her skin a hue brighter. The moon gave many things. Light inside and out. It didn’t help she’d been surging with satisfaction as the sun had fell to the horizon.

Jamison nudged her sword aside. “And just who sent you here? If I can be so bold to ask— was it her? I-If the old cunt wanted me gone so badly— Why didn’t she just come back?” He blithered senselessly to her. When his golden eyes fell downcast to his muddy foot, and he refused to meet her gaze— she pitied him. The pain in his voice spoke volumes more than he would.

“Why didn’t she just come back and tell me to go?!” He shouted, not at her, but rather over the darkened, empty meadow. “Let me go….?” He trailed, weakly nodding towards the fence.

Mei decidedly delved into conversation she should forbid. Jamie was still her bounty. Upfront commission be damned… “Usually the people I meet with…are not the ones looking to get the job done.” Folks, especially the upper class, loved to send their lackey or a fumbling servant down her end of the district. She knew everyone there was to know in seaside Gibraltar. And she also knew, she’d never seen the young man who’d commissioned her that day. Not around town, not by the docks, not even lurking in the wayback of the markets. Not once.

The shifter looked to her, a quickened flash of resolve flickering across his features. “Tell me that, at least.” He clasped his palm around his throat, leaving a grimey handprint. “Before you’re really done with me.” The bitter tone suggested he still had plenty of fight left in him. He watched her every movement keenly, but relaxed a bit once she’d lowered her sword.

“Client confidentiality.” Mei countered, blade sheathed.

Jamie sputtered. “What? You’re going to kill me and I can’t even know who sent you?” Anger festered in him, beneath his heavy layer of fear.

“Hush hush.” She quieted before coming to her knees before him. She took in the scarring across his muscular abdomen, the chip in his right ear. The…lack of limbs on his right side entirely. Save for a hint of bicep and thigh bound in blue fabric.

Mei had been advised by her commissioner to find the shifter and ‘do with him as she pleased.’ Which could be taken a great deal many ways. Beheading certainly didn’t have to be one of them.

“I’m not going to kill you.” She promised, offering her hand out for him to take. Which he did so. Hesitantly.

“W-why?” He asked tightly, his palm impossibly warm against hers. She hauled him to a stand, taken aback to see Jamison towered a good head above her.

“Because I don’t need to.” She answered simply, lacing his arm over her shoulders. He stooped to accommodate their height difference. The feeling of his pulse against her gave her pause. How long it’d been since she’d felt that.

“You— you’ve got no idea how excited you got me.” Her new companion interjected her musings. “Earlier, when I could hear your rustling about in the garden— ” He buffed the back of his neck, averted his lovely eyes. “I’d thought you was the witch. Back from elsewhere. Come home to stay or…free me.”

“And why do you need her to be free?” Mei prodded tentatively, leading them both back towards the greenhouse. Which she knew now must be his home. His earthy scent washed over her, the same that’d lingered in his nest of blankets.

“The old witch was my witch. Made me her familiar decades and decades ago. I can’t even leave this place or I get fucking ill. A few steps past the fence see’s me doubled-over, vomiting whatever I had that day. And believe me love, I’ve tried to go. I fucking want to go.” He shook his head defeated, muttering curses beneath his breath. His wild hair tumbled over his eyes and Mei brushed it absently behind his ear.

Jamison is a wounded pup.

She could sense no magic on Jamie. No lingering curses knotted in binds. Whatever spell there was upon him wouldn’t break to her will.  “I can shatter a great deal of magic, but I can’t— “

“I know it.” He finished gently. Tiring. Giving her a smile that might’ve had her heart racing if it’d still beat. “But you’re not going to kill me now, huh?” His smile blossomed into a toothsome, boyish grin. “Cause me life’s story is just so sad and all.”

Mei couldn’t help but agree on some level.

Jamison sat— fell—  on his nest of blankets with an exasperated sigh, his chest rising and falling as he simply breathed. She could watch that for hours. The lofting of breathing. His could be so different, too.

“Can you turn into a cat, as well? Or something like a horse?” She tried to imagine his odd transformation into a creature so large. Would the transition be a long, grueling process? How did his body know what organs to make— the shape of the bones? “Do you think like an animal when you are one?”

Jamison turned towards her lazily, with exhausted eyes and blood warm cheeks aglow. Had she embarrassed him somehow? He shook his head. “I think like me. Just…” He shrugged. “Wilder? I’m real free like that, y’know? Decisions with less thought, actions fueled by instinct.” He clenched his hand, drawing his knees up to his chest. “And yes. Yes, I can be all of that.”

Try as she might to ignore it, the scent of his blood proved overwhelming. She spoke up despite herself. “We need to clean that wound.” She extended carefully, always keenly aware the perception of others.

“The smell bothers me, too.” He agreed, setting up with a wince before leveling his gaze on her. “A gentleman doesn’t lick his wounds in front of a lady.” He reached beside him and plucked her hat from the floor. With a grin, he adorned himself and gave her a few different angles. “A good look for me, you think?” He teased, tilting away as she attempted to snatch it.

“That’s mine— “

“You sure? I swear I have one just like it somewhere.” He looked around her dramatically, effortlessly dodging her swipes. “Besides,” He pointed to her boot. “You’ve got somethin’ of mine in there, don’t ya?”

Mei paused, recalling the blueprint from before. She flushed, pulling it from her shoe and handing it over like stolen candies. A trade off ensued, though his grip tightened a split second on the brim of her hat before he released it.

“You can wear it another time.” She promised as one would promise a child having a tantrum. Her chastising hint of a smile made him snort.

“Can I have your name, instead then?” He sprung, grappling beneath his drawing board. He retrieved a wicker basket with a foggy philter of water, a cork fastening the spout. He bit away the stopper and lifted his ankle.

“You’ll make a mess that way.” Mei scolded, taking the bottle for herself and setting across from him. She pulled the wicker basket and found a neat folding of linens inside. Their flowered trim would be a worthy sacrifice. She eyed Jamison, listening to his steady heart indulgently, blanching when it quickened beneath her gaze.

Wordlessly, she brought his wound forward, draping his left leg over her lap. Linens stuffed beneath, she tediously poured water across his gash. The aroma of blood wafted to her.

Jamison retracted his leg in response, cringing before setting it back in her lap. Mei set out to be twice as gentle, taking extreme caution as she wrapped the cloth round and round his ankle. She patted the red bleeding through and held the fabric there till the flow stemmed. Discarding the soiled rags, she wound a clean swatch three times around. “Mei.” She stated plainly. “My name is Mei.”

“Mei.” He repeated back, voice husky.

“Put your hand here, hold this bit, please.” She instructed. He nodded diligently, watching from beneath his lashes as she unbound her hair, sending her mane cascading down her shoulders. She tied her hair ribbon to the loose ends of cloth, sealing it with a sloppy bow.

He gave his ankle a roll, seeming satisfied with her work. Patching him up was the least she could offer, seeing as she’d gouged him in the first place.

“How long have you lived here? Alone?”

Jamison quirked a brow. “I’ve lived here a century. Only a few decades alone, though.” He answered faux casually, masking his truer emotions. Years of solitude would take its grievous toll on any creature. Let alone a social one like a witch’s familiar…

Mei grabbed a metal casting from the floor, the same one she’d inspected earlier. Clearly Jamison’s prosthetics. To which she handed him tenderly. A soft plinking rang in the arboretum when he received them and set to adjusting them on himself. She’d been ready to lend a hand with the leather straps, but he applied them snuggly. Each piece fit lovingly, these’d been expertly made for him. A present from his witch?

Jamison flexed his metal prosthetics, opening and closing his right hand clumsily, but practically. He gripped a pen, tested leafs of paper beneath his fingertips.

“Metal won’t change when I do.” He rotated his wrist back and forth, eyeing the menial tarnishing. “I dropped everything when I realized you wasn’t the witch. Turned into a lark and whoosh.” He made a swooping motion, upwards towards the single porthole window choked with vines.

Mei clasped his metal hand in her flesh and blood palms. She marveled as his fingers twitched. The intricacy of these devices astounded her.

“Can you feel with them?” She asked, bringing it up to cup her cheek.

There were many things to become entranced by in the witch’s garden, and Mei was loathe to admit that the sensitive pace of Jamison’s heart was one. The fiery glow in his irises, another. The lean cut of his body yet another.

“Hardly a thing.” He admitted. “But I supposed that’s not a bad thing.” He brought his left hand to her face, let her feel the difference in each as he caressed her. The tips of his fingers played across her pointed ears, over her parted lips and into the waves of her hair. She found herself drifting in the sensation, tilting in closer to him.

Jamison brought a lock of her hair to his face, scenting it and painting it down the bridge of his crooked nose. Blood whirled in his cheeks, pumped vigorously through his heart. Before she could fix their too-close proximity— the shifter destroyed the space between them. His mouth hovered just above hers. And without thought, she stole what should never have been taken. She crashed her lips over his, hectic and crazed, kissing him. For years she’d denied herself intimacy for the sake of others.

“So soft…” She uttered against him, leaving him no room to speak as she melded back, daubing her tongue to taste his mouth. He responded timidly, his shock palpable as he shot still, left hand quaking before deciding to rest on the swell of her hip. Their kiss deepened when she felt him calm, his hallowed sigh of relief fanning over her.

Jamison’s strong heart thundered in her ears, the rhythmic sound undoubtedly erotic. Closer together, she could feel its beat against her own. Inside of it. As if it wanted to bring hers to life again. Growing chaotic, her mind fogged with a whispering instinct. Asking sweetly to bite him. Convincing her he’d be alright if she only stole a little blood. What if he likes it?

Some did. But before she could think of sampling him, his curiosity led him into exploring her mouth. One lave of his tongue across her aching fang released a heated drop of his life essence. She froze just as he groaned, and sent him away from her with a shove. Her body mourned the loss of his warmth and she almost grappled for him.

“Why— why did we stop? You just nicked me, love— no harm.” He pleaded with hooded eyes, his cheeks colored beautifully. Temptingly.

Mei dashed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Immense harm.” She insisted, shaking her head as he approached.

“I’m not human.” He suggested dangerously, angling closer to her again. “You don’t have to worry about taking too much.”

She covered her ears childishly, shaking her head. “I can’t even listen to that!” The line she refused to cross. Never straight from the flesh. She’d promised herself. Donors and butcher’s markets had humanity. What would she be if she dared to drain someone?

Jamison rested his hands over hers, the cold metal of the right felt wondrous on her skin. He waited patiently, pulling away as she did.

“You can’t hurt me with those little things.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over one, daring to slip it past her lips. “You couldn’t if you wanted.” His voice dropped and his heart quickened when she darted her tongue. “Let me kiss you, again.”

And before she could give her agreement he took it from her, replacing his thumb with his tongue. He kissed her recklessly harsh, dizzying her— endangering himself with his eager flicks. She stifled a moan, not unnoticed by her shifter. He pet her curves, polishing her like treasure, stroking her wherever he thought he could get away with.

He touched deviously between her legs, making her gasp and him chuckle. “Take more, just a bite.” He implored, brazenly slipping his tongue across one of her fangs. “It felt nice, Mei.” He spoke kindly, leaving their kiss to trail more across her cheeks and down her throat.

Mei fell back against his sheets, abound in the scent of him. Swimming in it. She grabbed at his bedding for anchorage, trying to rise against the unyielding desire. But her hands found his strong shoulders and her fingers danced the length of his spine, and she veered him back for another kiss.

Jamison sensed her enthusiasm, her abandon— and responded wickedly. He parted their union, only to bring the fluttering column of his neck to her lips. Any tethers of inhibition melted as she tasted the salt on his skin. His pulse just beneath the surface called to her and with a moan she relinquished control. Sinking her fangs into Jamie’s shuddering body surpassed any pleasure she could remember.

Mei could feel him speaking, but heard no sound above his heartbeat roaring in her ears. He embraced her, holding her flush against him as if he were terrified she’d bolt. She wished she could communicate how irrational the fear. She couldn’t if she wanted.

She drew deep of his clean blood, selfishly taking— rocking her hips against him, crawling atop him instinctively. Pinning him. Trapping him beneath her. He thrust against her in concert, bucking between her legs, chasing her softness.

Through willpower she hadn’t known she possessed, Mei interrupted the decadent flow and placed a delicate kiss to her fresh bite. Jamison spasmed beneath her, groaning about her, “Ripping it right out of me.” The lewd dampness in his trousers suggested he didn’t mean blood.

She muttered a love-drunken apology above him, all the while sucking her fangs and laving his bite clean. Though bruising would most assuredly bloom, at least she’d made her bite a precise one. No tearing, no pain. Not as lost to instinct as she’d thought.

He massaged her sides, pawing at her lovingly while he wriggled beneath. Words turned coherent again— sort of. “H-How? How’d you leave me boneless like that?” He asked with fallen stars in his eyes. He palmed the back of her head, beseeching her to lay across his chest. Which she obliged, happily. With her cheek mashed against his scorching flesh and her claws curling into his shoulders.

“I’m not bloodthirsty.” She half-lied. While she’d never craved stealing it from the flesh, she’d never encountered the temptation. Certainly never in the form of a wily shifter begging for her to take it.

Jamison nodded absently before rolling atop her, tucking her comfortably beneath him. His hands caged her, his shadow doing the same. “You don’t smell like it.” He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her. “Hell, you don’t smell like anyone else.” Which he said with approval before brazenly licking her collar.

As suggestive as he’d had meant it, she laughed. The pinprick sensation tickling her. Something that would prove disastrous for Jamison to know, because he focused there, savoring her involuntary, boisterous laughter and pleas of mercy gone unheard in their solitary garden.

When a little tear spilled from her eye she could feel his heart break. He cradled her, murmuring, “Sweetheart, oh no— no.” Before he rained a dozen kisses in her head and on her nose. “I won’t do it again.” He promised, giggling throughout.

“You’re the worst.” Mei surmised affectionately, smiling in answer. Pleasure radiated as his essence coursed through her. Bringing warmth to her cheeks and a familiar weight to her chest. He tilted, inspecting her change with a touch of his hand.

“That’s cause of me, right?” He asked proudly, pressing his ear to her breast, listening for perhaps her heartbeat. He withdrew undaunted, before proclaiming, “I want to be your familiar. How’s that sound?”

Mei almost choked at his offer.

“We can be like this more, is that something you’d want?” He asked, stifling his vulnerability with a placid expression.

Something she’d want? A willing blood font in the design of an adoring mate? Mei looked over him, unreadable as she silently came to a decision. One she prayed wouldn’t hurt him.

Jamison led her as a gentleman should to the edge of his home. His fists clenched tight by his sides as he forced himself to take another step. Another. And another. Jaw locked and heart shattered, he watched her. The long tresses of her hair bouncing in the wind, her countenance of guilt. A garish contrast to her soft, pretty face. Her soft pretty everything.

And here he stood, on the border of his confinement, screaming from within, “Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me. Promise to come back. God, promise to come back.”

The huntress peered up at him, with her cheeks rosy from his blood and her mouth plump from his kiss. He was dimly aware she’d forgotten her hat, yet again, but knew he’d never tell. She extended her hands, slipped them along his sides and embraced him.

He looked foolish, but didn’t think he’d have the strength to let go if he grabbed her now. He stood with her, night cutting them out— two mashed bodies, silhouetted by the struggling crescent moon.

Jamison opened his mouth to speak, but she blessedly interjected.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

Yes you are.

“I know it.” He responded, forcing a smile and stroking her hair, fighting to not inhale her a final time. To smother her in his scent so that everyone out there knew! Knew she had someone to come home to…

And then she kissed him. Melded their mouths together in a desperate goodbye, a hint of her fangs grazed his bottom lip. Giving him a taste of that earlier mind scrambling pleasure she’d introduced him to. Now she had the power to take it all away and every right to do so.

She parted their kiss with a little smack, her eyes still fanned shut for a moment after. Whacking his beaten heart for all it had left. Mei was going to take parts of him with her and she wasn’t even aware.

Jamison didn’t know when he’d put his arms around her, but it couldn’t be helped now. Not with her leaning against him so sweetly and listening to his shaken breathing.

“I’ll be here tomorrow. In this very spot.” She made a scuff mark in the ground with her boot. “So, can you meet me here?”

He nodded, refusing to take his eyes off her for their last fleeting moments. “I’ll be waiting, then.” And heavens above if she actually returns he’ll have no choice but to make her his wife. Because she could get away with leaving him once, but he doubted his heart would survive it again.

Jamison helped her over the fence, his left hand caught fast in hers. She squeezed it before she said, “Jamie…you made me feel. Exceptional today.” She blushed his blood. “And you’re delusional if you think I’m not returning to experience that again and again.”

As believable as she sounded, Jamison knew the hurt of abandonment too well. Too closely. But when she kissed him one last time and grasped his hand with all her might— he felt inclined to trust her.

Stupidly all he could say was, “I’ll miss you.” While she disappeared into the night, with him forever unable to follow.

                                          (NSFW)

  Jamison had her body covered by his in one clean movement. His amber eyes burned above her, gaze consuming her. She shuddered helplessly as he leant beside her sharp ear to ask, “Wake up thirsting, did you, sweet wife?” He canted his head to the side, baring the strong column of his neck to her with pride brimming in his wicked grin.

An unbecoming moan escaped her as Mei clutched his nape in both hands, claws greedily curling in his scorching flesh. She breathed his scent, sighing, tongue darting out to prepare him for her bite. She felt chills break across him and his magnificent body trembled before she plunged her fangs in.

Jamison keened, he fisted her silk nightgown, hiked it up to her waist while he rocked his shaft between her plush thighs. She whined most pitifully against him, growing wet in a rush from his taste alone. His rich blood coated her tongue thick, flowing down her throat like ambrosia. She always grew a hint dizzy from the raw sensation of her feeding, the pleasure could make her eyes roll back.

But Mei knew her husband’s limits and she retreated with a final, deep draw— which earned a rumbled growl, “Take all that you need, love.”

Her skin flushed with his lifeblood, bringing with it blistering heat. Jamison laughed darkly, nipping her neck with a lovebite of his own, and another and another. Marking her in return, possessively. He nuzzled her face and collar, ruining her with his addictive scent.

Her instinct clamoured mine whilsts his spoke in tangent with a rough kiss. Mei could always count on Jamison for her supply, he didn’t simply jump at the chance— he came at her maddened in broad day, pinning her hips against their kitchen table, brandishing his neck and demanding she take her fill.

“I need to give to you, now.” He’d confessed, while placing her hand over his thrumming heart. “It’s addictive, Mei.” He’d laughed boyishly, playing a deep, neanderthalic voice. “Feed wife.”

Though recently, spoil wife seemed more his endgame as he brought his neck to her lips once more. She pleaded for his sake, quivering when resistance failed and her fangs sank. Jamison fumbled with her panties, shoving inside her before she could taste a drop. His crude thrusts plunged him deep, making her back arch and her toes curl. Blood spilled into her greedy mouth and she reveled in his strong pulse around her aching teeth.

His hands encompassed her, fonded her pillowy breasts and tugged on her nipples. He had her squirming against his lap before he dipped his hands beneath her gown. His thumb found her clitoris and he made slow, tantalizing circles on her sensitive flesh. His actions a direct contradiction to his next words.

“Mei— Mei, love— I can’t— “ He tried to warn her, he always did. “Too much— “ He uttered helplessly, voice hoarse as he humped without rhythm,  reduced to clawing at her. Clinging to her.

She laved her tongue, coming roughly around the thick base of his shaft. He followed with a shout to the rafters, pumping wildly and flooding her. His hips continuously rocked after his orgasm, stirring their wetness and sullying their sheets to no end. A broken laughed escaped his chest, vibrating above her.

“Did my wife enjoy her feeding?” Jamison asked.

Mei nodded uselessly from the bedsheets, marveling at his firm backside while he prowled the room, looking for a towel to clean them with. She thrummed the dampness between her thighs, sighing contentedly when her husband returned, his body thrumming with their pleasure.

He shot her a devilish grin. “You’re glowing. In your cheeks.” .

Mei pat her face, savoring the coolness in her palms and the towel tossed her way. Jamison scrambled back beneath the sheets like he’d gotten away with thievery and needed to hide. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour or so, and even at the height of its brilliant cycle, light hardly had a chance to permeate the thick foliage blanketing the windows of their home.

Jamie rolled onto his side, facing her and grinning from ear to ear. “Turn over. Let me hold you.” He urged, scooting closer to the middle of the bed. He pulled her in before she could argue. As if she could with the heavenly warmth her shifter offered.

Mei drifted into a blissful sleep with one thought on her mind. They fit together perfectly.