#i drew the ceiling and walls in the background but it's like. very much not the focus.

[britneyshakespeare]

drawing just eats up my fucking time man

[buckybarnesdiaries]

my sergeant

© credits to the author, i found it on pinterest. if you are the author, please send me a message to add your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky breaks into your house to make you keep remember one thing.

word count: 1.352 words.

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! clothes on, unprotected sex, hair pulling, language, cursing, sergeant!kink, praise!kink, mention of bodily fluids, a little possessive!bucky, and i don't know what else.

author notes: i'm not sorry for this scene turning me on af every time i watch it. reposted because it didn't show in the tags. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Your eyes snapped open, sitting up on your bed barely breathing. You were agitated after having another nightmare you couldn't remember once you were awake. At least this time, you weren't covered in sweat, but your whole body was on fire. Tossing the sheets away, you got up bare feet to head to the kitchen and drink a very much needed glass of freshwater. You drank it in one gulp, gasping while leaving it inside the sink. With both hands on the edge of the counter, you inclined your head back, putting your eyes on the ceiling. Those bad dreams would be the death for you one day, you knew it.

As you felt more calmed and recomforted, you turned around with the intention of going to your bed again. But that was left in the background at the moment you glimpsed Bucky sitting at the dinner table. He didn't scare you, not at all. You were starting to get used to find him there, waiting for you, in the middle of the gloom. He looked exhausted too. Deadly tired. He was reclined against the chair, legs slightly spread and his arm made of vibranium over the table. The soldier didn't utter a word, following your steps walking closer to him with his shiny blue eyes. He didn't even move a muscle when you sat on his lap and placed both hands on the sides of his neck.

Leaning ahead, you pecked his rough and dry lips slowly, taking your time with no rush. Bucky just closed his eyes, slipping his hands down to your hips, nailing his fingers there. He couldn't help but growl quietly the second your mouth trailed a path of short, ephemeral kisses to his jawline till reaching his throat, forcing him to toss his head back. Unconsciously, he urged you to swing your body on top of his. You dragged your incisors on his Adam's apple, causing him to swallow a soft gasp, feeling his digits grabbing your hips strongly —probably, that gesture would leave some marks on your skin.

“I've missed you”. You purred coming back your attention to his lips, as the bulge under the rigid fabric of his pants became bigger and harder because of your dance. You were aware that he looked for you whenever he wanted to put his feet on the ground, feel loved, desired. “My Sergeant…”

Bucky didn't open his eyes, sliding his cold palm to your lower waist and landing the warm one on the back of your head to tangle it in your hair. You groaned against his lips before they were hungrily devoured. The heat in your core grew by leaps and bounds when he repositioned you on his legs and his solid erection was placed under your weakest spot. You couldn't hold back a delicate, sweet moan. One of these that used to drive him insane. With his left hand, Bucky continued encouraging you to rock your hips against his crotch, rubbing it concretely among your folds covered by the soaked fabric of your panties.

You hated sometimes the control he had over you, over your body, over your mind. He could put you to beg with just one look. And he knew it. You were his, that was the absolute truth. And he wanted something else from you, as soon as you increased the pace. Bucky didn't care about your t-shirt, using both of his hands to rip it off from your body. Ruining it like he was going to ruin you. His hand of vibranium went straight to your breasts, giving you goosebumps because of the contrast of his cold fingers pinching them as he caught one of your nipples between his warm lips. You whined his name, securing your hands on his shoulders, out of the world while the sensitivity of your wet and needed cunt became more sensible to the firm rubbing against your panties.

“You want to cum, don't you, babydoll?” He hummed squeezing the nipple covered in his saliva using his thumb and his forefinger, bringing his lips closer to yours.

“Yes… Yes, Sergeant”. You pouted at him, nodding with your chin and looking at him through your eyelids.

“I knew you needed me… I knew my sweet girl needed her Sergeant to make her feel good, am I wrong?” Bucky's hoarse tone was pushing you to the seventh heaven, feeling the tickles borning within your lower belly, swinging your body faster over his rock-hard dick.

“No… No, you're… you're not”. You babbled this time, seeing him curling up the corner of his lips in that charming and breathtaking smirk of him. “I ne— need you inside me… I need you to… fuck me like you me— mean it, my Sergeant, please, I beg you”.

“I will, babydoll, I will… 'Cause you're a good, good girl”. Bucky affirmed unhurriedly, peppering your swollen lips, remembering how good they looked around his cock —sucking his soul out of his body— the last time he appeared in your house. “Open your mouth”.

You obeyed instantly, swallowing a loud whining, letting him tuck his cold thumb between your lips. You licked it using your tongue, giving him a whole show and noticing how a storm of darkness covered his pale blue orbs. When he decided it was well covered in your saliva, Bucky directed it to your panties, not pulling them aside. And he drew circles on your throbbing clit, pressing his fingertip enough to stroke it.

“Oh, f— fuck, Sergeant”. You sobbed arching your back, very close to being thrown above the edge of your limits.

“C'mon, babydoll… cum for me… Show me what only I can make you feel”. He whispered into your ear. A raspy voice that gave you shivers down your backbone. “You're so damn soaked I can feel it under my clothes… Good lord… what a dirty girl you are…”

“Only fo— for you”.

Your response came an instant before the fireworks exploded inside your belly, not being able to stop when the orgasm hit your soul crying his name, dancing your cunt onto his hard cock needed of him. Your thighs strained, your legs were shaking, hanging above the floor and you were panting nonsense words about your Sergeant.

Bucky stormed his tongue into your mouth, invading it with no mercy to dominate yours. Placing his hands back to your hips, he forced you to keep moving, stealing the less air inside your lungs. He was about to cum too, but it'd be a waste if he did it in his boxers; stopping you at the precise moment to push you back enough to undo his belt and zip. Bucky didn't let you time to react. As his cock covered in his own arousal broke free and he removed your ruined panties to the side, he lifted you sufficiently to impale your pussy down.

“Fuck!” You both hissed at the same time, closing strongly your eyelids.

Bucky made you bounce onto his rigid erection, once and once, keen to fill you up with his heated seed. You were a bundle of moans, sobs, and pleas, feeling his most sensible skin stretching your soaked walls and twitching between them. He didn't give you prior notice. Bucky just cum inside your cunt, pushing you down harder till his dick was balls-deep beyond your limits. He growled against your throat, pulling back your hair and your head, to nail his teeth in your sweaty skin.

“Oh, god, my Sergeant…” You gasped with a wrecked tone of voice, finding balance by gripping his jacket in two fists.

“You look like Heaven, babydoll… But you feel like Hell”. Bucky rumbled, making your whole anatomy shake again. “What a shame 'm gonna destroy you tonight…”

And by destroying you he meant you wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, not even to talk because what he has planned for you was to fuck every sweet, warm hole of you —your mouth, your ass, your pussy. Or rather, his mouth, his ass, his pussy. Bucky would make you keep remembering who you belonged to.

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[obriengf]

Who Put That There? || Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Summary : Two friends experience the holiday magic of surprise mistletoe.

Words : 1.7k

Warnings : fluff, drinking, couple of swears

Notes : Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! gif credit [uknown / x]

Your eyes widened in childhood wonder at the array of Holiday decorations gracing every possible surface of Sarah's apartment. Green and red hues were most present, especially seen in the dancing lights bouncing off her living room walls; a perfect complement to the oversized tree in the corner and numerous eclectic statues of Snowmen and reindeer littered through the lively space. She always went all out when it came to this time of year, and you were glad, seeming that it was definitely one of your cherished happy places.

You lent casually against the staircase of your friend's living space, an arm tucked under your other as you nursed a half-drunk glass of spiked eggnog. The strong taste of bourbon slunk down your throat, the warmth from such an intense alcoholic beverage created a spike of fire in the pit of your stomach. Not only was decorations one of Sarah's strong suits, but she also spent a lot of time and energy providing her friends with constant refills of her favourite holiday drink. The atmosphere was one of a kind - the loop of popular christmas jingles and songs playing lowly in the background, only overtaken by the joyous chatter and laughter of the people you call your second family. If you could stay in this moment forever, then everything would simply be perfect.

The creeping smile on your lips faltered only slightly as your shoulder was nudged, eyes flickering to your side to see a lightly buzzed Dylan and his famous caramel eyes that you adored so incredibly much. Teeth sunk deep into your bottom lip, a subconscious action to accompany the small crinkles besides your eyes and alcohol-induced rose blush pinching at your cheeks. He immediately reciprocated your happiness before releasing a soft chuckle, his glass raising lightly in the air toward you before he took another long sip. Dylan sighed in complete contentedness, "This is my third glass, you know. Any more and I'll be hanging from the ceiling."

You chortled, a hand pressing lightly to your chest from the sudden burst of hilarity. A full display of your teeth showcased the elation you felt, catching the attention of your friend as he gazed between the squinting of your eyes and plushness of your faintly swollen lips. "That would be a sight to see, but something tells me that Sah really wants to get us drunk, you know? I didn't even reach the bottom of my glass before she was topping it up. She's being really fucking sneaky." Small indications of laughter rode along the end of your words as you spoke. You swirled the remaining liquid in your glass as you looked to Dylan, your eyebrow raising as a silent request for him to wait and watch.

I would be less than a minute later before Sarah stood before you both, the never-ending jug of eggnog in her hands managing to pour enough beige liquid to officially create your third glass. You nodded in thanks, Sarah snickering under her breath as she moved across to Dylan to copy her hostess duties. She made sure to enunciate that you two enjoyed your drinks before she left and Dylan's eyebrows shot upward, total shock etched over his features. "Holy shit, how the hell did you do that?" He wondered aloud, shamelessly taking another sip from his glass. He took his bottom lip captive as you so innocently shrugged your shoulders, and for a moment, he grew breathless at how angelic you looked among the flashing lights of your friend's Christmas tree.

You couldn't pinpoint whether it was the hard bourbon coursing through your veins, or perhaps they were; just twinkling a little brighter tonight, but Dylan's burnt-honey swirled eyes drew you in closer than you were before, the ability to smell the strong stench of your drinks now very much apparent as it wafted toward your dazed expression. It felt like magic when small specks of white glitter fell between your faces, a true Christmas miracle when the addition of a familiar green plant dangled above your heads - one that certainly had not been there earlier. You gulped softly, unknowing that you were holding your breath until it pushed through your lips with a small shake. Pieces of the puzzle were merging together in your mind until you shook your head at the realization of what was happening around you. "It's mistletoe. She got us wasted, so we would kiss under the mistletoe."

You didn't think it possible but Dylan's face grew brighter, his blushed cheeks now extending to the tip of his nose and chin. You could see the gears turn behind the widening of his eyes and the way his mouth fell ajar and stammered with his lack of wording, "Wh-who... who put that there?"His focus flicked between the hanging plant and the oddly calm expression you wore, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips the more he thought about kissing you - wondering how you'd taste, how you'd feel against him. Maybe it was the perfect example of a Christmas miracle and if the opportunity so willingly presented itself, then it just had to be taken. Dylan bit the inside of his cheek, now looking at you through the thickness of his eyelashes, "Then maybe we should, you know, kiss then." He placed the now empty glass on the bench beside him, his hands wringing in front of his torso, "Don't want bad luck, right?"

You managed a tamed giggle, nodding in accordance with his reasoning. You only just remembered the soft holiday tunes playing as an ideal backdrop, a kick of confidence for you to also place your glass behind you and take a step into Dylan's personal space. He didn't move away but rather leaned forward until your chests were nearly flushed to one another. The moment was quintessential for a moment of Christmas romance, internally praising Sarah and the existence of Mistletoe. "Definitely don't want bad luck." You hummed, nose nudging against his own before Dylan's breath hitched evidently in his throat.

You couldn't help but smile up at the man before cupping his cheeks gently, allowing your thumbs to rub under his eyes. By now, your own eyes were closed, lashes tickling Dylan's cheekbones, making his need for you obvious by the way he would brush his lips so shamelessly against yours - a friendly tease, a desire for more, pulling back only the slightest when you would lean in to chase him. It was a game that he didn't mind losing if it meant that he could finally just kiss you. He suddenly swore under his breath, a raspy and quiet 'fuck it' vibrating off the red-painted plumpness of your lips before he pressed forward. You moaned instantly at his dominance, hands still holding his face and involuntarily squeezing when he pushed harder against you. Dylan's hands gripped your waist as fingers flexed over the material of your dress, the sides gathering up your thighs as he tightened his grasp.

Your body slumped, melting at the taste of sweet eggnog and the warmth of bourbon still decorating the rim of his lips. You need more, you needed him ao much closer than just in your arms. You licked at the taste of Holidays on his bottom lip and he moaned in the base of his throat, lips parting for you to deepen your union. You were sure that you were going to turn blue, unable to breathe but not wanting to pull away until the last possible second. You could tell that Dyan felt the same as his hands harshly dragged up your sides and over your back, pulling you into him, regardless that physically you were already as close as you could get.

It was a relief and a loss as you had to pull back, heavy breathing from both of you now filling the small gap between your close proximity. You licked your lips, tongue running over their swollen complexion. A smile found its way between your cheeks at the thought that Dylan's would be just as plump, his face flushed entirely, your red lipstick smudged over his mouth so carelessly. It was exciting to think that the beating of your heart was just as rapid in his own chest - to think that this moment was flawless in each and every way. Dylan's breaths turned shaky as he laughed, dropping his forehead against yours, "Fuck." That was all he could muster as his blunt nails scraped down your back and caused welcomed shivers up your spine. He inhaled deeply, his upturned nose brushing against yours and along your cheek with utmost fragility, "I'm gonna have to get myself one of those things. Especially if it means I get to kiss you like that each and every time."

You hummed along to the song emitting from Sarah's speakers, gently swaying from side to side until Dylan's hips were moving in unison with your own. It made you happy, beaming toward the man, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. Your lips placed a tender peck just under his ear, the sound of Dylan moaning in complacency sounding so beautifully among the atmosphere surrounding you. "You don't need mistletoe to kiss me, Dyl. You just need to look at me with those big ol' honey eyes and I'm there. Promise."

It was quintessential in the way the acoustic music set the scene, coloured lights highlighting the strong cut of Dylan's jawline and the golden speckles in his eyes - even the simple intimacy you both adopted so quickly, already comfortable caught up within one another, the thought of leaving each other's hold becoming the last thing you'd want to do. It was perfect. Utterly, completely, absolutely perfect. Even when Sarah appeared by your sides, her presence was lost as you and Dylan continued to sway in your own bubble. She cleared her throat, a whine escaping from Dylan in reply as your head turned from his to face your overly happy friend. She looked beyond prideful, the smirk on her lips growing by the second.

Sarah sighed, "Like I always say, this eggnog is fucking magical."

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed v, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of jungkook x reader – est. poly relationship

summary: BTS have had a long, busy day. Heck, a busy week, preparing for 2021 Grammys performance and interviews. It’s finally over, and all Min Yoongi wants is to take a shower and sleep with his favorite person. There’s no one like you. He deserves some special treatment – some belated birthday wishes granted perhaps?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; domestic shower care (aww) and shower sex (hell yeah); feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, handjob / blowjob (with tongue technology), f-receiving oral, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; occurs the night of the 2021 Grammys

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: MYG asks JJK to fuck you, again, let’s keep this going, oop JK dyed his hair blue; based on real time.

–

"I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's okay. It was a long shot anyway."

"Well, you are good at basketball, so you can make a long shot, easy."

A deep, raspy chuckle. "Next time."

Water drummed against the tile, the rhythm interrupted by you working shampoo through black hair, conjuring fistfuls of lathered white clouds. The head lifted a little and you were about to chastise him, but one look into those black-brown eyes and small sheepish smile looking down at you, and you forgot what you were going to say. 

"It was never about us anyway. We wanted to win so ARMY could brag about us."

You grinned, chuckling a little. "They always brag about you, Yoongi."

You saw something flit across his face, but he didn't say anything. You already knew. I wish you could brag about me. And you did, but not in the way he wanted, because he was Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, Agust D sometimes, and your secret all of the time. You closed the distance, a simple, sweet kiss in response to his wordless wish, I know, me too, hands curling in his soapy hair, smiling gently against his lips. Hm. You could feel Yoongi was thoroughly enjoying your wet breasts against his chest. 

Something hard was poking you quite insistently.

You drew back a little and Yoongi's hands circled your waist, keeping your hips to him.

"Thought you said you were sleepy?" you teased.

Yoongi grinned slyly. "I changed my mind."

You chuckled, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off, forcing him to close his eyes with a displeased grunt. You could tell from his dark circles that he was tired from the stress of the day, having to wake up at two in the morning and be ready for his call time at five, but he still insisted for you to come, still insisted for you to sneak around and be here when he came home. You didn't get to see Yoongi on his birthday and not during the weekend before either. He was too busy filming content and preparing for the Grammys.

You did send him a voice message of you singing happy birthday and he replied with, thank you, my love, instead of the usual, you would benefit from a vocal coach, which meant he missed you far too much to tease you. 

You carefully straightened his neck and Yoongi breathed out, raising a hand to push his black hair away from his face, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. 

Oof.

Sexy. 

Yoongi's eyes opened, dark brown orbs reflecting the mischief in his smirk. 

"You sure you don't want me to call the maknae?" he asked not-so-innocently. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew what he was doing. 

Your boyfriend had posted a selfie this morning, only to be followed up by Jeon Jungkook’s adorable pose in a colorful fluffy flannel shirt on Weverse. Earlier in the week, Jungkook had cutely invaded and sang happy birthday on Yoongi’s celebratory live, and then put up a picture of himself on his post for said hyung’s birthday.

The absolute gall of the Golden Maknae. 

Needless to say, you were disappointed, but not surprised. Only slightly though. Jungkook was like that. A little bit – alright, a lot – of a naughty little shit that needed his cock brutally choked by your throat or pussy every once in a while. Actually, no, definitely both, just to be on the safe side. But this day was not that day.

"You said you wanted to be selfish today," was your calm response to Yoongi's question, reaching behind him to rinse off your hands, pressing your tits into his chest. Your eyes flickered up to his. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as your fingers trailed on his back, drawing small patterns. 

"Has he been a bad boy?" he chuckled, referring to, of course, the shameless audacity of your other boyfriend, well-loved and doted-on Jeon Jungkook. 

Your expression matched his, inquiring but already knowing the answer. A silent conversation between kindred souls that followed the same thought process. Closer, water gliding between your bodies, lips fitting against his, lightly nipping at his lower lip as if to say, we're both a little mean, Yoongi chuckling in agreement as he captured your lips forcefully. Hands all over wet bodies, pressing him to you and him reciprocating, hot water seeming hotter, steam getting steamier, kisses passionate and intense, Yoongi pushing you into the shower wall, not letting you get away.

Jungkook had known you were coming, but he wasn't allowed to attend this time. 

He said he was tired from the events of today and he wanted you to spend time with Yoongi alone because it had been Yoongi's birthday recently and they should definitely get special treatment during their birthdays, right?

"I want special treatment on my birthday, so I suppose hyung should as well..." 

"Ah, that's too bad, I was looking forward to punishing you."

"Noona...!" You could hear the shy pout in Jungkook's voice as it lowered, whispering into his phone. "Don't say stuff like that..."

You heard a sneaky cat-like purr in the background. "Say what?"

Jungkook started and you heard the violent rattle of the phone falling, followed by scrambles to retrieve it. Ah. You could see now why Jungkook's phone was taped.

"Hyung! Don’t... I thought you were still in the bathroom..."

"Mmm." You knew that what that hum meant. You've been on the phone for a while. And Jungkook had, lamenting that he wished they could have won the award and had a celebration live with ARMY and you had to reassure him over and over that there would be more chances and ARMY was already very proud with the nomination, yourself included. 

"Uh... do you want to talk to hyung? He's here..." Jungkook did not sound like he wanted to give his phone up. He was only asking out of politeness.

"No, Jungkook, I'll see him in a bit."

"She said no, huh?" Yoongi mused and then you heard the sounds of footsteps wandering away. 

Jungkook made a questioning noise, but you reoriented him rather quickly. 

"I want to hear your voice some more, Jungkook." You recalled the opening of the Grammys 'Dynamite' performance and his teasing, cocky nose scrunch. "Was feeling rather sexy during the recording, weren't you?"

"You saw?" An edge of excitement to his tone. "That was for you, noona," he added playfully. 

"No, it wasn't."

His faint, wicked snicker. "Okay, you're right, but I did think about you while doing it."

"Mmmhmm. What part of me? My smiling face or my warm mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Noona!"

Alright, you did end up giving Jungkook a little bit of punishment, because neither you nor himself could help it. And at the very end, he played along, whining for you because he knew you wanted him to. Fuck, he was getting clever now, remembering all the things you liked. Stupid sexy Jungkook and his duality.

"Can't I come too? Please, noona?"

It took a lot of refuse his cute voice, but you did make a promise to Yoongi and you never broke your promises.

"Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

Reliving your memory was abruptly interrupted by two fingers sliding into your pussy.

"Excuse you," you muttered into Yoongi's lips. 

"What are you thinking about that's gotten you so wet, hm?" he drawled, dripping water down your cheeks and chest, kissing from your lips and up your jaw, slowly working his fingers in and out, your wetness thicker, warmer than the water, leaking down his knuckles. His voice in your ear, low and dangerous, making you fall for him more and more. "Thinking about me or the maknae?"

...

Min Yoongi knew you too well.

"T-That's..."

Couldn't think of a smart comeback, not with Yoongi's voice so sensual and invasive, staring up at the hazy ceiling while he sucked on your ear, biting your lip to stifle your moans, nerves lighting with shivering arousal. His fingers controlled, measured, focused on deeply penetrating you to graze your favorite spots, rubbing your walls and pressing his thumb into your clit, slow circles causing throbs of pleasure to glide through you. Yoongi knew all the places that made you weak, licking right under your ear to make you whimper for him, kissing and sucking up and down the curve. The warm water created a steady hum, background music for his dirty words. 

"Is that why Jungkookie ran so fast to the bathroom earlier today, hm? Mmm, you shouldn't mess with him so much. You should know better as his noona," Yoongi murmured softly, speeding up, catching your earlobe with his teeth and tugging on it, words slightly muffled as he continued, waves of heat flaring upwards with every thrust. "He'll keep teasing you, pretending it's for ARMY, and then when he has you next, he'll make you beg for his cock…" Teeth biting down, leaving a visible mark, his gravelly whisper sparking inhibitions. 

"And I'm going to watch you."

Fuck you, Min Yoongi, for always knowing the right thing to say.

Yoongi flicked your clit and you cried out, bucking into his hand, almost losing balance, but his left arm came up behind the small of your back and held you in place, strong and unyielding, orgasm cut short with your sudden worry of straining his recovery, but Yoongi already knew, cooing comfortingly in your inflamed ear. 

"I was dancing during the recording, remember?"

Right, he was cleared to dance, but still...

And again, Yoongi led you back into the proper headspace, kissing and nipping down your neck, tongue against your collarbones, stroking your side with his left hand as his right pushed in and out of you, building the pace and your needy gasps once more. 

"Shh, you're a good girl, don't move and nothing bad will happen."

A tinge of menace in his voice, indicating the double meaning, I won't get hurt and maybe you won't get punished. Only a maybe though, sending a delighted spark up your spine, pressing your shoulder blades into the shower wall, instinctively raising one of your legs to give Yoongi more space. You glanced down, but he wasn't looking at you, eyes calmly closed, soaked black strands sticking to his forehead as his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Instant pleasure from his expert tongue, teasing the moans of his name out of you, praising him, fuck yes, Yoongi, so good, I love this, fingers filling you repeatedly, thumb knuckle grinding onto your clit, sucking on your hard nipple. You were so focused on the feeling that your torso froze up, head and hands pressed into the wall, back arcing as you came, pulses of ecstasy enveloping you, but Yoongi didn't stop, forcing another finger inside your tight hole, whines in your throat as your shuddering pussy sucked it in, still riding waves of aftershocks.

His left hand slid up and pinched your ignored nipple. 

"Yoongi, fuck...!"

You could only curse the gods that created the genius that was Min Yoongi, chuckling as he rubbed your left nipple, sucked on the right, thumb knuckle on your clit, three fingers fully stuffed inside you, so hard and so fast that his forearm was nearly vibrating. Too coordinated, too rough, too much, mind going blank, already orgasming, and again, and again, not stopping.

He was too good. 

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you made him. 

Your eyes rolled back, rocketing bolts of pleasure overtaking everything, entire body shaking and quivering with overstimulation, your own knuckles white because your fingers somehow curled into fists, moans rattling your chest as wave after wave of pleasure attacked you, pushing you to the brink of collapse.

"Y-Yoongi, oh, fuuuuuuuk, Yoongi!"

Your body made the executive decision for you, left hand shooting down and grabbing his forearm, gripping it tightly, gasping for air, making sure to keep his long fingers buried all the way inside, his hard muscle flexing under your palm. Fuck, so hot. Yoongi immediately stopped, detaching his mouth from your nipple, and you could barely protest, tremors thundering through your torso as your pussy spasmed and soaked his fingers with your sweet-sour juices, your inner muscles rapidly clenching and unclenching around him, his low moans filling your ears as he felt each strong pulse, stretching his fingers against your convulsing walls to amplify your pleasure and feel it all.

"Fuck..." Yoongi panted, leaning against you and your heaving chest. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're wrecked." 

His lips on your temple, kissing you fiercely, grinding his crotch into your hip and revealing how hard he was as you tried to come down, tried to calm your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You turned your head to face him and he was there, devouring your lips with rough kisses, pulling his fingers out to tug and pinch at your nipples with his knuckles, smirking at your submissive whines, your hands wandering down and gripping his length, leisurely stroking him.

Now Yoongi was the one gasping into your mouth, switching to rubbing your hard sensitive nipples to coax you to do more, switching your positions in the shower so his back was to the water. The two of you were only half-finished washing up, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

You backed up a little, breaking the kiss, seeing Yoongi’s dazed expression as you lightly cupped the head of his cock in your palm, gently rolling into the slickness, continuing for several seconds before adding a little more pressure. He inhaled sharply, pleading for more with his breathing alone. His chin was slightly tilted upwards, black hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips slightly parted, water trickling in rivets down his neck and chest.

Yoongi noticed you staring and gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

Who taught Jeon Jungkook how to be hot as hell?

It had to have been Min Yoongi.

You mentally took note of this image of wet Yoongi so you could masturbate to it later.

He cocked a brow and you cocked one back, challenging him. Then you dropped to your knees, careful with the slippery floor, and yanked his hips to your face so he blocked all of the water with his body. His stiff length smacked you in the lips and smeared pre-cum on them. You heard Yoongi gasp and you looked up, seeing him watching you, expectation and hunger in his dark eyes.

You smirked, tongue snaking out and licking your lips to taste him.

“Is my good girl going to do all my favorite things?” he drawled in his extra-low octave.

Your pussy throbbed at his domineering tone. You didn’t have to say anything, your scorching gaze alone creating that amused smirk on Yoongi’s lips. I know what you want. One hand holding up his cock, leaning forward, and Yoongi groaned in satisfaction, your mouth sucking in one of his balls, your deft tongue circling the other in loud, messy slurps, suffocating one while licking the other. You flicked your wrist back and forth, pumping his cock as you worked his balls, lips tight and pulling slightly, tongue flexed and slapping against the other.

You looked up at Yoongi’s dilated pupils, knowing that he could see flashes of your pink tongue against his balls, your hand stroking him slowly and deliberately.

“You’re so good, fuck… So fucking good at that,” Yoongi panted. “Every other man in the world is jealous that they’re never going to get to experience this.”

You popped your mouth off, making him hiss with pleasure. “That’s not true. I’ll give it to Jungkookie eventually.”

“Ah, he’s lucky that I picked him.”

You raised your eyebrows, you picked him, uh huh, I was the one stalking him on Twitter, and Yoongi nudged you with his hips, eyes narrowing dangerously, put my balls in your fucking mouth, and you obeyed, switching to his right side and sucking it into your plush lips, tongue snaking out to lap at his left one, now pumping him with your dominant right hand. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly, clenching his jaw as you increased to his favorite pressure and speed.

“Fuck, yes, make me cum just like this,” he snarled, as much a plea as it was an order, rocking his hips a little so he tugged on his balls in your mouth, forcing you to suck harder and lick more roughly to keep him in place, obscene slurps adding another layer to the song that was the falling water, Yoongi’s moans, and the rapid slap-slap-slap of your hand furiously jacking off his twitching hardness. You glanced up at him and he was observing you closely, drinking in every second of your mouth, hand, and spread-open thighs as you kneeled for him, water dripping off your nipples and ass, groaning your name, tone saturated with lust.

“Ah, fuck, I love you so much, you look so fucking good like this…”

You could tell he was getting close with how shallow his breathing was becoming. Tighter, harder, so devoted to the cause that you were whimpering to add vibration to the multiple sensations, drunk on the taste of his skin and the scent of his pre-cum right next to your head, needing it, wanting it, right now, your eyes telling him, please Yoongi, cum for me, want you to cum for me so bad, and he bit his lip, tense growl contained in his throat that morphed into a drawn-out wail.

“Fuck, now, fuck!”

You abruptly pulled off his balls and Yoongi gasped, startled and confused as you quickly repositioned yourself so he shot thick strings onto your mouth, painting your red swollen lips with drizzles of white, up your cheek and onto your nose, dark eyes wide as he witnessed his indecent mark on you. Like something out of a literal porno, your lips coated with glossy lines of his semen. You looked up at him, still holding his cock, sinfully triumphant.

Your devious smirk covered in cum.

“You wicked, dirty woman,” Yoongi breathed in amazement.

His hand was travelling down so you removed yours, already guessing what was coming next. You placed your hands on your thighs, sinking into the softness as Yoongi groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping himself slowly to the image of your cum-covered puffy lips, red and white, upper body tilted back so your hard nipples pointed upwards towards him, squeezing your breasts together with your arms while your hands kept your thighs spread, wet pussy exposed to him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, so hard you could see the flashes of veins standing out through his fingers. “You’re too much, too sexy, come closer so I can use that mouth.”

You scooted nearer and Yoongi pushed his cock into your lips, moaning as he watched his orgasm smear down his length and disappear with each centimeter his cock into your tight, hot mouth, your eyes taking in the jerks of his shoulders and slack jaw, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. He was so turned on that you knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted, but there was no stopping him now, already shallowly thrusting. You knew how to make him pause though, tightly tensing your throat muscles around the tip. Yoongi threw his head back, your name a desperate whine.

“Please, shit, I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck…”

Slowly Yoongi’s head rolled back and you took the chance to slide your tongue out, hands coming up to cup his balls, licking them in playful figure-eights with his entire length crammed down your throat, barely able to breathe.

You didn’t care.

Yoongi was in literal heaven.

Swearing, gasping, moaning, enjoying it for a good twenty seconds before fitting his right hand behind your head, tangled in your wet hair.

“Hold me,” he gritted out. “Hold me so I can fuck your face.”

You backed up a little to take a deep lungful of air, placing your hands on his hips. There was so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that you didn’t even notice that your knees were screaming in pain, completely focused on getting your throat ready for Yoongi’s abuse.

Your eyes flickered up to him, giving him the signal.

Yoongi grinned and began to thrust into your mouth. You adjusted your neck a little and Yoongi hissed, the throbbing head of his cock now rubbing against the roof of your mouth with every slide down your throat, rolling his hips into your face. You could tell he wanted to keep it slow, but his body craved the speed and he finally gave in, fucking your face mercilessly, fast and rough, nearly choking you but not quite, and that was the best part, Yoongi always knowing the edge, always knowing how much you could take, chuckling darkly as your moaned around his cock, trying not to dig your nails into his skin.

“It’s okay, do it,” Yoongi nudged, devilish edge to his voice. “Do it. No one is going to look there.”

Eye contact.

You sure?

He ticked a brow.

How many people were going to look at his ass? Eh, he was right.

You sank your nails into his hips and dragged them down, creating red scratches around his crotch.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped with your name, urging you for more, you clawing at his ass as he forced himself between your tight lips, marking him up, praying no one was going to ask why his ass looked like a cat’s scratching post, but it was doomed, your cries vibrating his cock, Yoongi losing control, lustful shudder as his cock jolted in your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed greedily, puffing breath around his thick length, sucking a little so you could feel every quiver, his taste strong and salty, so delicious that your pussy pulsated with satisfaction even through it wasn’t being stimulated.

You felt Yoongi caress your wet hair, soft praises floating down to your ears. You licked him delicately, ghosting your tongue around and around the head. He shivered, exhaling hard.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well…”

You felt his cock soften. You did what any sensible human would do and took him all the way in your mouth to bounce his balls with your tongue.

Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re crazy.”

You gave him your gurgled response with his dick still down your throat.

“You’re right, I do love it.” He tapped your cheek. “But the water’s getting cold, so let’s finish this shower and get into bed.”

-

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to my ripped panties?”

“From last time? Don’t know. Jungkook had them in his pocket.”

You frowned, working product through your wet hair. “I hope he threw them away safely.”

Yoongi looked thoughtful. “Ah, is that what he snuck over to Jimin’s room for?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good cover.”

You gawked at him.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, going back to daintily and dutifully applying his skincare.

-

Get into bed.

This wasn’t exactly what you thought Yoongi meant, but you weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, that’s so insanely hot…”

You were kneeling on the bed, chin on the pillows, knees spread, hands on your ass cheeks to spread your pussy open so your boyfriend Min Yoongi could watch you flex your wet opening.

At least he gave you time to blow-dry your hair before ordering you around.

For the moment, you were staring at the headboard, keenly concentrating on the exact precision and force needed to open and close with varying degrees. Most of the time, there was no need to be this focused, but Yoongi had asked for a show, so you were going to give him one. You could hear him slowly stroking himself, panting with exertion and awe. The bed sank a little as his weight was added, coming up behind you. Anticipation zipped through your veins, heartbeat spiking.

“A-ah!”

You felt a cold, fine spray on your ass and back. The fuck? Then the scent hit you, sudden citrus mixed with a verdant musk and the base of pine wood. On your skin, it immediately morphed, turning warmer, almost smokier, different than how it smelled on Yoongi. You twisted your head around, giving Yoongi’s smirking face a startled look.

“Did you just spray me with your cologne?”

He tucked his tongue between his neat white teeth. “No.” Which obviously meant yes.

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might figure it out.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow underneath his fluffy black bangs. “I’m sure many people buy and wear my cologne, including women. Can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

There was a twinge of arrogance and wistfulness in his deep voice, but before you could break it down and ask, what about me, Yoongi leaned in and shoved his tongue into your pussy.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!”

His satisfied groan trembled through your nerves, igniting arousal and causing you to clench around his tongue involuntarily. He didn’t have to say it, both of you already thinking it, keep going, but now you were gasping, getting wetter and wetter with the addition of Yoongi’s tongue lazily sliding up and down as your muscles contracted and relaxed, letting him feel your skill and power, his moans vibrating through you from your core. It was already slick and getting slicker, Yoongi’s tongue gracefully sliding through your folds, thrusting into your hole, your juices like honey seeping onto his greedy mouth, so fucking good you didn’t need to control it anymore, it was just happening, and it took everything in you not to shove your ass into his face even though you wanted to, because you didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally hurt him when he had already worked so hard today.

Yoongi chuckled.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, knowing he could see the strain in your arms and the tremble of your hips trying to keep your position as he sucked on your clit.

He removed his mouth and you grumbled in disappointment, cutting yourself off when you heard the distinct rip of a foil packet.

“No, fuck you.”

Yoongi said it as if he was telling someone the time and not about to forcefully plunge his dick right into where his mouth was a second ago.

“Ah, fuck yes, Yoongi…”

He sank right in, stretching you out deliciously, sighing as your wet walls molded around his cock, familiar and wonderful. You finally had the chance to remove your hands from your ass so you could hold yourself up, relieving some of the pressure on your poor knees.

“I’m choosing to ignore your disrespect,” Yoongi purred, placing his hands on your hips and bottoming out, his balls smacking your engorged clit roughly, earning a low hiss from your throat. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, breathing hard as your body adjusted. He was asking you how you wanted it. You clicked your tongue and turned your head back, seeing him watching you closely under his black hair shadowing his dark brown eyes.

“What a nice guy,” you remarked in a cool, defiant tone, borderline bored.

Come on, Yoongi, mess me up.

His lips curved into that devious, open-mouthed smirk you loved so much.

“Mhm.”

He slid out and slapped his crotch into your ass, hard.

“Yes, Yoongi, fuck!”

Your nails sank into your palms and you shoved your fists into the sheets, locking your upper body so you could push back into his rough thrusts, pleased grin on your lips, his perfect cock filling you over and over again, core tensed tight to feel all of him, the thick head forcing its way deep inside slick velvet, the rock-hard length twitching against each ridge, his balls bouncing against your inflamed clit, so full, so good, so intense that it almost hurt.

It wasn’t enough.

Panting hard, chest shuddering, you reached up and planted a hand flat against the headboard and clenched your jaw, bucking back into Yoongi’s crotch. His voice was mind-numbingly deep, full of desire and danger.

“Harder it is, my love.”

You smirked, then gasped as you felt the hot sting of Yoongi’s palm on your ass, the sound reverting against the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, fucking you hard into the bed and slapping your ass as you kept up with his pace, doing half the work for him so he could focus on each sharp spank to make your ass bounce on his cock, the bed screaming for you two to stop, but neither of you noticed, completely focused on chasing wild, feral pleasure, Yoongi growling your name and you moaning at his carnal tone, soaking his skin with thick, sweet-smelling juices, pussy violently massaging his length.

“That’s it,” Yoongi hissed, breathing rapid and shallow, ceasing his slapping of your red ass to seize your hips and fuck you even harder, digging his nails into your skin and marking you with his lust. “Feels so good fucking this perfect body just the way I like.”

Fuck, his voice, taking your heart and setting your world into lustful wildfire, no one like him, nothing like this, making you lose your mind and fuck back against him harder, the roller coaster climbing higher and higher and higher, Yoongi cursing under his breath, and you were so far gone that you almost didn’t pick up his words.

“Shit, Jungkookie would have loved watching you get wrecked by me.”

A low moan ripped from your throat, the thought of Jungkook’s needy voice and expression seeing you get pounded by Yoongi’s full strength, being told to watch and probably not being able to help touching himself, fuck, you wanted it, wanted Jungkook so bad at that very moment, wanted to show him how ruined you were, knowing he would love it, crave it, desire it, fuck, it was too much and you came hard, seeing stars, planets, fuck it, the whole fucking galaxy, fingernails curling into the headboard and whining at the sensitivity, body rolling onto Yoongi’s cock and squeezing it powerfully. Yoongi gasped out your name, grip tightening as he spilled into the condom, his length pulsating and twitching into your walls. You thought that was it, but Yoongi’s fingers snaked down between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck!”

He roughly rubbed your aching clit with two fingers, forcing you to cum again around his cock, moaning loudly with every convulsion of your overstimulated pussy, viscous juices clinging to the insides of your joined thighs, completely defeating the purpose of the fucking shower, but neither of you seemed to remember that, Yoongi too busy using his last ounce of strength to push you to your limit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrating his fingertips against it, your eyes rolling back and spine clattering as another orgasm blasted through you, up your torso and straight to your head, numbing pleasure overtaking everything, arm going slack and forgetting to hold yourself up, hand slipping on the headboard, fatigue finally having its way.

Yoongi was quick to slide his hand up your belly and keep you up, wiry strength of his right arm balancing between your breasts to prevent you from falling into the bed.

“Holy f-fuck…”

The words sounded far away even though they were yours, the resounding beat in your ears being your pulse trying to catch up, nerves tingling all over, acutely aware of the tiny flinches gliding across your skin, aftershocks of a particularly explosive orgasm. Your pussy was still throbbing around Yoongi’s spent cock, locking him in your embrace. You planted your hands onto the bed and lifted yourself up rather shakily, taking the burden off Yoongi’s arm.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, caressing the underside of your breast lightly.

You had the energy to raise one hand and give him a thumbs-up.

He rapped your ribcage. “Stop that.”

You chuckled, finding your voice a bit hoarse. “Why? You always do it in pictures.”

You heard Yoongi mumble disapprovingly behind you. “Is that why you do that? To make fun of me when I take photos?”

“Almost eight years of being an idol and you still don’t know what to do with your hands in pictures,” you teased.

He pinched your nipples roughly and you yelped.

“I know what to do with my hands around you,” Yoongi growled, rubbing them between his fingertips, your moans radiating off his walls. “And that’s what matters.”

-

interlude 20210419 drabble — “This is not allowed, you two.”

part vi “Shh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

--

masterpost

[marvelgiggles]

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 3

It was now becoming the end of summer, which almost time for school to start. You didn’t want to go back to the school you went to last year. You were fairly advanced when it came to your other classmates, especially in STEM related classes plus they were your favorite topics. Peter found out that you loved those types of classes, he wanted you to come to school with him.

Another thing that has happened in the past few months since living with the Avengers is that you’ve broken out of your shell. You were now the person you always hoped you could be surrounded by the family you had always dreamed of. There were still some bridges to be crossed but you were improving daily and the Avengers were very patient with you.

“Y/N you have a guest at the downstairs entrance.” JARVIS announced. You squealed and ran as fast as you could to greet Peter. “Peter!” You yelled and jumped into his arms. 

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said hugging you back just as hard and kissed your cheek. He set you down, “What’s everyone up to today?”

“Wanda, Sam, Vision, and Rhodey are on a mission. Tony and Pepper are on a business call and Steve and Bucky are out training, so I’ve been bored. Wanna build a blanket fort and watch movies?” You asked bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement. 

When the Avengers went on missions together or in groups, you were worried the entire time they were gone. You finally had a family and didn’t want to loose any of them. There was a part of you that completely understood why they had to go on missions and you were incredibly proud of them for doing something that brave and knowing that they were helping people. You tried to keep yourself busy so you wouldn’t think about it too much. 

“That sounds amazing!” Peter said, “Race ya!” Peter suddenly took off giving him the advantage. 

“Peter, no fair!” You giggled running after him to try and beat him to the living room. The two of you were giggling as Peter would slow down to help you catch up but when you were close he would speed up again. When the two of you finally made it to the living room, Peter won by just a hair. 

“I win.” Peter sang which caused you to poke his tummy. He gasped and curled away from your finger. “Is that a game you want to start now there Y/N?” Peter started to poke your tummy in retaliation which made you giggle slightly. 

“Nohoho.” 

“You wanna grab the blankets for the fort? The more you grab the bigger it can be.” You grinned and rushed off to the closet that held all of the blankets, you grabbed as many as you could carry while still somewhat seeing where you were going. You got back to the living room Peter had moved some of the furniture around to clear a spot for the epic fort you were going to make. 

“Let’s get started.” Peter rubbed his hands together rapidly, something he did when he was excited about something. 

After an hour, you and Peter made the most epic blanket fort in the history of blanket forts. You had the TV set up on the ground, also doubling the use and making it one of the walls of the fort. You also brought some of the extra string lights from your room down and strung them along the ceiling. It was also loaded up with some of the extra blankets you didn’t use and all of the pillows that were from the couches. It also was stocked full of all the appropriate movie marathon snacks. 

“What movie should we start with?” Peter asked you. 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to accidentally pick a movie that Peter didn’t like and make him want to sit through the whole thing. “Whatever you want to watch is fine.” It also helped you were pretty easy to please when it came to movies, as long as it wasn’t a horror movie or super graphic. 

“Are the Lion King movies okay?” You nodded with a smile. You both made yourselves comfortable while also each grabbing a snack. Halfway through the movie Peter spoke up. 

“Y/N,” you turned your head to look at him letting him know he had your full attention, “do you wanna cuddle?” Your face all of a sudden got very warm and you avoided his eyes. You slightly nodded and Peter opened his arms, “Well come here then Cuddlebug.” You eagerly crawled into his arms.  

While you have broke out of your shell in the last few months, you were still struggling with asking for certain types of affection. You had no issues giving hugs to people, but you were still too nervous to ask for cuddles or kiss someone one the cheek. The Avengers gave you the nickname of Cuddlebug because cuddles were one of your favorite things on the planet.

“Thanks for keeping me company Peter.” You whispered. He drew you closer to him while giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead. 

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends Y/N, I love hanging out with you.” 

Another thing that all the Avengers have learned about you appreciated words. Growing up you were never told that someone was proud of you, that someone cared about you, or even that someone loved you. Since the Avengers knew a little background of your previous life they tried their best to always tell you what they thought of you. 

“I like hanging out with me too.” You teased, even though you had a rough past you still understood sarcasm, which was also something that came to life recently.

“Oh look, it’s miss sassy pants, guess I will have to fix that.” He rolled you onto your back and he laid on your side, crossing his over and under yours pinning you into place, and then he started to squeeze your hips. You burst into giggles trying to twist away but Peter’s legs had you stuck in place. 

“Peheheheter!” 

“Oh can miss sassy pants not take some tickles? Well that’s too bad, I have to tickle all of the sass out of you.” Peter sang now bringing his horribly quick fingers up to your armpits making you Tickle Me Elmo giggles burst out. 

“Looks like miss sassy pants has turned into Tickle Me Elmo, how cute.” Peter chuckled, “Maybe this spot will make you loose all your sass.” He then moved down to your ribs, he hit a particularly overly sensitive spot. It was at the bottom of your ribs but on the backside of your rib cage. You were so shocked at this new feeling that you didn’t even try to squirm it was like you were paralyzed with laughter. 

You were trying to tap out or do something to get him to stop, then thankfully he decided to have mercy on you.

“I’m definitely going to remember that spot.” He squeezed it quick again eliciting a squeal from you. “But it’s not as good as this one.” He jellyfished the knee closest to him and you quickly grabbed his hand and wove his fingers between yours so he didn’t get carried away and tickle you longer than you could handle. “I’m done I promise.”

“I like hanging out with you too Peter.” You told him once you finally caught your breath and the both of you got more comfortable and finished your Lion King movie marathon. 

———————

It was the first day at Peter’s new school and it would be a lie if you didn’t say you were nervous. You were about to go to school with a bunch of genius kids and a new school, but you were thankful to have Peter by your side. 

You were standing outside the building looking at the front doors, “Ready?” Peter said grabbing your hand.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know that you were holding. “Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“No but I’m going to be with you in class all day. Mr. Stark made a call apparently.” He smiled and you felt so touched that Tony would go out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and with Peter all day. Peter tugged your hand and you followed him into school.

You felt a lot of eyes on you making you feel really small and uncomfortable. Peter just simply squeezed your hand letting you know that he was there and walked into your first classroom. 

You were a little surprised to find a few round tables in the room instead of a bunch of desks. Peter walked over to a table with a few people and sat down, you immediately followed so you wouldn’t have to sit a table where you didn’t know anyone.

“Y/N, these are my friends Ned and MJ. Guys, this is Y/N.” Peter told you while pointing to a girl with curly black hair and the guy who couldn’t stop smiling with no hair. 

“So you’re the Y/N Peter has told us about.” You suddenly got really nervous, what had Peter said about you, good things or bad things, that fear of suddenly loose your closest and first friend made it’s way to the pit of your stomach. Peter started to notice your tense state and simply placed his hand on top of yours. 

“Hey, I’ve only told them good things. I told them that I made another best friend over the summer named Y/N and that she was super fun to hang out with.” 

You smiled appreciatively at him, “Why aren’t there desks?” Peter chuckled at your question but you didn’t feel stupid or insecure at his response. 

“It’s supposed to help with learning. We are all facing each other and the teachers have structured their teaching so we can work more in groups and go back and forth with each other, rather than just sit and listen to them talk all the time. Not all the teachers have it but it’s becoming more common throughout the school.” 

That made you nervous and a little more excited about school. You were always such a hands on learner but you didn’t really know anyone yet so you were even more thankful that you were in class with Peter and that Tony made a call to the school. 

Finally, lunch time came around and you were the first one to sit at the table Peter told you he sat at. You felt a presence sit next to you and you turned to look expecting to find Peter but instead you were looking a boy you’ve never seen before. He was wearing a letterman jacket and he was kind of handsome as well.

“Hi, I’m Brad. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Then all of a sudden a large group of guys in letterman jackets sat around you. 

“Well Y/N welcome to Midtown High. Where’d you move from?” He was obviously trying to get to know you for some reason and you just wanted to leave but you also didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m just here for today to see if I like it.” You said quietly not liking the pressure you felt from all of the guys around you.

“I hope you stay because...”

“Hey Y/N, wanna join MJ, Ned and I over there.” Peter interrupted Brad, you had never been so thankful to see Peter. You eagerly nodded when all of a sudden you felt a hand on your arm, trying to get you to sit back down and you knew it wasn’t Peter. “Hey Parker, she was already sitting here.”

“I know!” Peter actually looked pretty angry at Brad, “But this is where we normally sit and you didn’t have to sit here plus Y/N is my friend and she’s clearly uncomfortable, so take your hand off of her so she can come sit with her real friends.” You had never heard Peter talk like that and you made a note to never get on his bad side. Brad thankfully did what Peter said and you stood up to follow Peter to where he was sitting. 

“I’m sorry about Brad. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Peter said as you were making your way to his table. 

You shook your head, “Thank you for saving me.” You said quietly.

Peter kissed your cheek quickly and whispered in your ear, “That’s my job Y/N.” Causing you to giggle at his cheesiness and the whisper in your ear tickled a little bit too.

After lunch time was over, you went to all the other classes with Peter and enjoyed your day at the school, but when the bell rang at the end of the day you were even more happy to go home. You were never really away from the compound for that long since you’ve lived there so you missed everyone and couldn’t wait to get back home. 

Peter told you he wouldn’t be coming back to the compound with you and he had to go somewhere with his aunt after school, so Happy would be picking you up. Peter did walk you out to the front door and you instantly spotted Happy’s car. 

“Bye Peter, have fun with May.”

“I’ll text you later, Y/N.” He pulled you into a hug before you got in the car. Happy and you made light conversation on the way back to the compound. 

“Welcome home Y/N.” JARVIS said as you walked in the front door. 

“Hi JARVIS! Is Tony in the lab?” 

“He’s currently working on a new model for his suit.” JARVIS told you and you ran to the lab wanting to tell Tony about your day. Once you got to the lab you saw a stool right next to him, you figured if you sat there he might even let you help him.

“Hey pipsqueak, how was school with the kid?” He turned from what he was working on and kissed your hair.

“It was fun.” You said simply kicking your legs back and forth on the stool watching in fascination on what Tony was working on.

“Yeah, so is that were you think you wanna go this year?” He set his tools down and stopped what he was doing to give you his full attention.

“No.” You said quietly suddenly getting nervous to tell Tony what you were thinking. You looked up a Tony quick and his head was cocked to the side and one of his eyebrows was raised. 

“I liked the school but I’d rather learn stuff from you in the lab and help you with suits and other things.” You were suddenly snatched off the stool in a big bear hug and Tony swung you around in a circle making you laugh.

“I get to have you here all the time!” Tony screamed as he continued to spin you around. When he finally stopped spinning you felt his hands squeeze between you arms and your armpits, he started to wiggle his fingers causing one of everyone’s favorite laughter from you. Your Tickle Me Elmo giggles broke out and you started to kick you legs.

“Tohohohony!” You giggled, you couldn’t help but try to get some momentum to break free of his grasp but you also didn’t mind as you loved being tickled. Tony didn’t acknowledge your protests and started to rub his beard in the crook of you neck. Your giggles got more frantic and your kicking became a little more desperate than before. Tony kept this up for a while, he’d either rub his beard around your neck, or wiggle his fingers in your armpits or even do both at the same time. 

He finally had mercy on you after a while and set you back down on your feet and he gave you a long kiss on your forehead. “I would love nothing more than to teach you everything I know. I’ve always wanted a little apprentice.”

“I’m sorry you went through all that trouble of calling the school for nothing.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl. Now where should we start?”

[youllallriseintheink]

Repeating the Cycle

I thought I’d write a little story about ink infection, as well as Sammy’s role after he was transformed. It’s inspired by Shazzbaa’s theories (I’d say which, but we don’t want spoilers, now do we?)!

I’ll tell you guys later tonight about the future writing projects I have planned.

---

Sammy awoke in his sanctuary, as he had many times before. He hadn’t been to his apartment in... well, days anyhow. He felt better when he was near the ink. He tried the door to exit his private sanctuary, and it was locked. “Is this a sign?” he asked his lord. “Is it time?”

Yes, his lord spoke back.

Sammy smiled- smiled rather weakly, as the pain from his ink infection had been wearing on him heavily. “Finally.”

All the waiting. All the sickness. All the fear. It was time to see what it was all for. And his lord had assured him, with the comforting voice of a father to a young son, that it would be worth it.

Sammy dragged himself over to the leaking pipe that hung from the ceiling of his sanctuary and turned on the ink supply. Ink sputtered down onto Sammy’s face and clothes, and he fell to his knees, hands outstretched and mouth open as though he was staring into heaven itself. His heart was pounding. He was shaking from adrenaline, and not even being surrounded with, covered in, and consuming the ink that normally numbed his symptoms seemed to be helping. This had to be fear instead of withdrawal.

Do not be afraid, the voice comforted, you will have ascended in mere hours. I promise, you will be safe and healthy. I promise, it will be better than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Thank you! Bendy, hear my praise! I want what you have for me! I crave your embrace!”

Sammy took a long suck of ink from the pipe, then laid down on the floor. He was weak. so weak.

That’s it. You’ve made it. You need only wait now.

Sammy trusted Bendy. Bendy told him that everything he’d done and experienced in his life- even the nightmarish last few years- was leading to something. It told him that everything was okay.

Sammy didn’t know how much time had passed when he felt Joey tying up his ankles. With some struggle, he sat up and tried to push Joey off of him, but it had little effect. Before long, Joey had finished on Sammy’s ankles and was straddling his chest to tie up his hands. The last thing he saw with his biological eyes was Joey’s knife slitting his throat.

When Sammy woke up, the voice of his lord was gone. By trying to make a toon out of him, Joey had robbed him of his ascension and severed his connection to him.

---

Grant awoke in his office to the horrid ticking of his Bendy clock and the array of whispering voices that had plagued him since early in his infection. The clock’s small hand pointed to six, but Grant had no idea whether it was morning or evening. Months of ink infection had ruined his sense of time. He tried the door to his office and found that it had been locked from the outside by chain and padlock. Grant laughed at the absurdity of it all- his life had spiralled into a nightmarish fever dream.

“Does this mean it’s time?” Grant asked.

Yes. Your time is almost up, the voice answered, and for once, Grant trusted it. He felt almost too tired from illness to care.

“I’ll do anything you ask to stop it.”

No response, except for those muttered voices. Grant hadn’t expected one- the voice rarely had his best interests in mind. He shuffled over to his desk and pushed aside some papers to go back to sleep- possibly for the last time.

And then he saw it- a report from Joey that he’d received mere days before his symptoms had started- ending with the words “Fix this or I’ll have your head!” angrily scrawled at the bottom.

That was it. Joey had done this to motivate him. He just had to figure out how to keep the studio from bankruptcy and he’d be cured!

Yes! Yes! You’re right. Fix it! the voice yelled.

Adrenaline flooded Grant’s system as he jerked open his filing cabinet with shaking hands in search of the necessary files to fix the budget. This was his one chance to survive. The muttering voices were screaming in his head- ear-piercing. His head felt ready to explode.

“Shut up and let me focus!” he screamed.

Ink will soothe your symptoms.

That was something that the voice had told him frequently. He hadn’t given in to it yet- not much, anyhow- because common sense told him that ink was inedible. It was also his sincere belief that the voice wanted to kill him. The voice had told him, back before the physical symptoms had become obvious, that he was merely losing his mind and needed to hide it from everyone, lest he be institutionalized. Then, as soon as the physical symptoms had taken root, it had changed its tune- he was losing his mind, because he was ill with an incurable, supernatural disease, and no hospital could help him, and going to one would only guarantee that he would be a test subject for the limited time he had left. Listening to it then had gotten him into this position, and he wasn’t eager to listen to it again.

But this was life or death. He opened the supply on the ink pipe that Thomas- for some reason he didn’t understand- had installed in his office, and drank deeply.

The voice- the muttering- the headache- it all stopped. Silence. Finally.

Grant’s hands were covered in ink now, and were sure to soak any paper he used. I can’t let that stop me. He dropped to his knees and started painting calculations on the floor.

The numbers didn’t add up. Not a single one. Was his mind was too frayed to do basic mathematical functions?! How could he fix anything, let alone this insurmountable debt, while he could barely think straight?! Calm down. Stay calm. Try again. Life or death. Time is money. What will Joey say?!

From the cracks within the wall, Sammy watched as Grant spiralled into panic and tears, and turned his office inside out trying to find anything that could help, expressing his fears through wall-writing, and attempting escape the room. Poor thing, Sammy thought, remembering the pain and uncertainty of his own ink infection, but soon I’ll be able to teach him the truth.

It had been years since Sammy’s sacrifice. Not only did Sammy still work for Joey now that he was a failed toon, Joey had him on a schedule. Every day at 11:00 AM, Sammy would ooze through the walls of Joey’s office for their morning meeting. Sammy wasn’t particularly happy about doing anything for the man who had turned him into a failed Boris just as he was about to fulfill a higher destiny, but the voice had once told him that to follow Joey was to follow his lord, and now those previous words (which Sammy had recorded and studied every day) were all he had left as a doctrine to follow. Sammy hoped that with enough obedience and service, his lord would see past his ruined body and grant him his destiny.

Joey’s demands were often difficult, but they were simple: sacrificing specific people into specific toons, and looking after the infected. Joey rarely sacrificed people on his own anymore, and instead relied on Sammy to do the dirty work of knocking people out, killing them on pentagrams, and then dealing with the resulting dead body, blood and ink-stains on the floor, and whatever abomination came out of the ink machine. Looking after the ink-infected was easier: keep an eye on them, and once they become too infected to be useful, lock them in their offices or in infirmary rooms and take them to their prison in the basement come night. Sammy had overseen the infection of nearly thirty people by now and had sacrificed dozens.

Thankfully, Joey’s demands were not very time-intensive, and he had plenty of time for his passion: teaching the lost ones about their lord and saviour, Bendy.

The lost ones lived in a prison in the very basement of Joey Drew Studios, along with the failed toons. Sammy’s sermons were some of the only times they were allowed out of their cages, and so they were always happy to see him.

Some agreed with him. Often, these were the same ones who had heard a comforting voice as they were infected- generally those with a religious background. Others thought him insane. Their voice had been different- wrong- hallucinatory- and quite often threatening. Sammy had these lost ones do penance in order to find their way to Bendy. Some found him, leaving Sammy feeling accomplished, but also jealous that he could never have what they had. Hopefully, his lord would see the wonderful work he was doing and one day ascend him along with the rest of them- because surely, that was not their final form.

Today’s meeting was like any other. Sammy waited in the walls until Joey’s 10:30 client left, and then slithered out before him.

“Anything to report?” Joey asked casually, as he looked over some paperwork. These meetings were usually uneventful.

“Two people are currently under quarantine. Three more are infected but still able to work for now. Everything is fine- except for one small detail. One of the people under quarantine is destroying his office out of fear. If you’d like, I could tie him up snug until he transforms, or force-feed him ink to speed the process along.”

Joey considered this. "Hmm... well, I do need an Edgar. He would work as well as any. Are you sure he’s close to transforming?” All ink-infected people had strange beliefs and delusions (except for Sammy, of course- his visions were absolute truth), but by this point in their infection, they were generally too tired to do anything destructive- especially ones like this one, who had increased the duration of their infection by resisting the urge to drink ink.

“It will be a matter of hours,” Sammy assured.

“Well, that’s not convenient, but I do have lunch right after this. I’ll get the Charley down to the basement, and you get the Barley and Edgar. The Barley’s name is Lacie Benton, and I’d suggest you knock her out before taking her anywhere- she’s a tough one. But the Edgar shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“No... I suppose not.” Severely ink-infected people were, without exception, very weak, and Sammy was stronger now than he’d ever been as a human.

“Alright! See you down there as soon as possible.”

Sammy nodded, slunk back into the walls, and cursed everything, especially his order to obey Joey Drew. A severely ink infected person had never, and would never, produce a good toon- part of their souls had already been connected to the other lost ones. Joey must have known that, but he still insisted on stealing the people that were meant to be Sammy’s to guide, probably because in Joey’s mind, killing a person was murder but killing a lost one (or someone who soon would be a lost one) was not. Joey didn’t see his people as equally human, and it sickened Sammy. Nonetheless, he slithered through the walls until he came upon Grant’s office.

The office looked like a madhouse. The floors and walls were coated with repetitive writing. Furniture had been strewn about. Grant himself was curled against the ink pipe in his office, covered in so much ink that Sammy had thought he was already transformed before he realized he still had hair. The poor thing had tried so hard, while so sick, at something so futile. Sammy had his orders, but he wasn’t going to lay a hand on his sheep-that-wouldn’t-be until he had to.

Sammy slithered out of the wall- slowly, so as not to scare him.

“Who are you?” Grant asked. He sounded so tired of all the supernatural surprises that he barely cared.

“I’m here on behalf of Joey Drew,” Sammy began.

“I’m so sorry. I tried... but I couldn’t. I suppose you’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m here to give you congratulations. The others in your department were able to use these brilliant calculations,” Sammy gestured widely at the messily scrawled gibberish on a wall, “to make a plan. The studio is going to avoid bankruptcy, and you’re going to be cured. Come with me.” Sammy offered Grant his hand. Grant took it, and Sammy helped him up.

“I-I don’t understand. I don’t understand how-” All of those calculations... Grant would have guessed that they were worthless.

“Shh... you’ll be clearer-headed soon. Just come with me, now. I can’t be out there where everyone can see me, but go to the elevator, go to the bottom floor, and I will be there. I promise- you will be fine.”

“Thank you so much. But, my door-”

Sammy slithered back into the wall. Grant heard the click of a door unlocking, followed by the clink of chains falling limp. His office door was unlocked. Do I trust him? Grant asked himself. This day kept getting stranger. If I don’t, I’m guaranteed to die. I have nothing to lose.

Sammy slithered into the wooden floor of the elevator and only reappeared once the elevator hit the very bottom.

“I’m sorry,” Sammy lamented “I want to lead you to Bendy. I want you to find peace as one of my followers. But it is not in the cards.”

The two made brief eye contact- or would have, if Sammy’s face weren’t covered in mask. Grant, obviously, had no idea what Sammy was talking about. Then, Sammy grabbed Grant’s hair, slammed his head against the wall a few times to knock him out, tied him up for sacrifice, and left to find Lacie Benton.

[sapphiics]

Didn’t we almost have it

a/n: I heavily suggest listening to Dammit by Jana Kramer while reading this, it is where I got the entire plot from.

dt: to my dear @morcias because who else just loves morcia so much. plus I asked her a million questions to help me figure out details for this.

word count: 3k

content warning: it’s angsty(?) and quite sad but with a very happy ending.

-----

God did Penelope hate driving through Illinois.

The only reason she was coming back was for the bridal shower of a girlfriend from college, otherwise she would’ve stayed in California, where she was at least a good thousand miles away from this place.

All it did was make her nostalgic, almost painfully so. The entire state serving as a physical reminder of her old life. One she had not a chance in hell of getting back.

The urge to race her car to the nearest ‘Leaving Illinois’ sign coming over her yet again, Penelope makes a right turn onto Commonwealth avenue. Christina’s house was only five minutes from where she was.

It was the walkway that first drew her eye. A stone path, small flowers lining it. She could almost hear his heavy footsteps getting louder as he jogs to greet her, meeting Penelope in the middle with a chaste kiss as she hauls grocery bags under her arms, enough food for four. 

As she nears closer, her eyes travel up the length of the two-story building, it’s utter perfectness painfully pressing into her like a stab to the gut. It took every ounce of restraint that she possessed not to slam the brakes and just gawk at the vision in front of her.

That was the house.

The dream house. The one the two of them fantasized about back in college. Penelope can practically see the late nights they spent in her dorm, cramped together on her twin bed, their fingers intertwined. His free hand running over her head, pushing her hair back behind her ear and tilting her into his shoulder. Hushed planning of their happily ever after. She can hear his voice whispering in her ear, about how they would have two perfect daughters. He would be a FBI agent, and she would work for a nonprofit organization. He’d cook, she’d clean, he would take care of the lawn, she’d do the laundry.

That was the plan. Their own special, simple, linear plan.

Until real life happened, essentially taking those plans and throwing it off a cliff. That’s all it was now, a pretty daydream to keep Penelope from having to accept the fact that nothing in her life is going like she hoped, and she’s probably going to end up alone.

None of that stopped her from turning into the lot of the house, the door slightly cracked open. A large ‘For Sale’ sign hung on it. 

Giving her the perfect opportunity to see what she could’ve had. To spend a few fleeting moments dreaming of the life she would’ve had with him.

Finally found that dream house, and yet the dream guy was long gone.

Her hands shakier than she would’ve liked, Penelope slowly steps out of her car, the two story home everything she ever envisioned.

The path up to the house was lined with daffodils, she could see as she passed them. The front door was a smooth dark brown. Solid wood, contrasting with the otherwise creme exterior of the house.

That would’ve been his touch. He always liked that building and renovating stuff, she could almost hear him begging her to let him remodel the place. To really ‘make it their home.’

The entrance didn’t nothing to deter her, the arching ceilings and oak floors straight out of her most vivid dreams. The arches reminded her of college. Charles Deering Memorial Library, to be specific. She had always liked the gothic architecture, and even he could admit that the towering building’s medieval influence was well executed. And that chill day in March, the ninth, to be exact, when they first met. She was working there part-time, and he needed something from the football archives.

It was his smile that drew her in, his eyes drawn up real small as he flashed her two rows of perfect teeth. 

What she would give for one of those smiles right about now.

An embarrassingly loud gasp left her mouth as she walked in further. Ahead of her were a pair of large black couches, perpendicular to each other. A grand fireplace in front of them, an open space perfect for a nice big flat screen.

Hockey. That’s what would be playing. He was huge on the sport, and her mind drifted to an image of the two of them sitting on the couch. Him in a worn out jersey and his lucky socks, her in his beat leather jacket, feet propped up in his lap. She has headphones and her knitting, he has a beer she steals sips of and has a loose grip on her ankle, his fingers pressing against the small tattoo she got the day she turned eighteen. Just like old times.

Without even glimpsing at the side door that led to the kitchen, Penelope could already visualize him sitting on the counter. A soft white tee and some sweatpants, strumming on her ukulele and singing some old 90s ballad off key while she chopped vegetables. Later that night, after their girls went to bed, the two of them dancing together to her parents’ old record player. An old Bee Gees song softly in the background as they sway.

Her mind racing, she’s already thinking of summer barbecues. Her and JJ drinking margaritas in the shade, their children’s laughter bringing a grin to her face. Him talking it up with Rossi about god knows what as he mans the grill. The sun setting as he takes a seat next to her, tugging her into his side and placing a small kiss on the side of her head.

The overwhelming realization that Penelope is never going to get that future, never going to have the future she so desperately wanted with him, hit her harder than ever in that moment.

And next thing she knows she can feel tears running down her cheeks. Alone, in the middle of an open house in the one state, the one city she vowed to never return to, and she’s sobbing like a baby.

“Well Hello Miss!” ,a kind old woman steps out, shocking Penelope back to reality, “You here for the house?”

 “Yes,“ she says softly, hastily wiping at her face,  “Yes I am. Just a quick look around.” Her hands swipe at her dress, trying to regain even a semblance of composure, “You have a beautiful home.”

The woman casts her a sympathetic smile,

“Thank you. Me and Sarah have lived here for over forty years. We raised our five children in these very walls,” the lady beams, a smile coming over her face as she looks around the room, 

“We figured that with them all gone and us not getting any younger, we could downsize just a bit.”

Penelope let out a polite laugh, but stayed silent otherwise.

“You stay for as long as you like! My name’s Carolyn by the way. Let me know if you need anything!”

“Penelope, and thank you,” she smiles at her, Carolyn returning to the back of the house.

Penelope’s eyes catch onto the grand staircase, passing over the perfect crème walls and carpet flooring.

Her feet moved towards it, the view before her so accurate to her vision that it was like somebody reached into her brain and pulled out the design themselves. She needed to have this place.

Right before she can take a step on the stairs, she sees Carolyn return, a dimmed smile on her face.

“I’d like to buy the house,” Penelope states confidently. She couldn’t possibly leave here without having it.

It didn’t matter that she lived across the country, with decent enough friends and a steady job. This was the house, and if she had the chance to get at least one part of the dream, she damn sure was going to take the opportunity.

Carolyn winces, a regretful look on her face. “I’m so sorry Penelope, we just had somebody place an offer for it.”

“Oh,” Penelope’s eyes widen slightly, and she can feel the tears pushing their way to the surface. For just a second, she let herself get entranced by the home, and it hurt more than she was willing to admit that she couldn’t have it.

“Are you looking for a similar house ? There’s one just in Fullerton Road, and I believe it is on sale.”

“No I… I just got caught up,” Penelope waves her hand around the side of her head, her cheeks turning red, “It’s okay, an amazing family deserves this home.”

“Actually, the young man who purchased the place is with Sarah in the back right now. He’s already thinking of renovating the place.”

“Sounds great,” Penelope mused, wanting to be anywhere but here. At least a loving family is getting this house. She just hoped they were as happy as she once imagined she would be.

“Here they are,“  Carolyn announces, adding to Penelope’s discomfort. She had to leave, and fast. The last thing she wanted to see was the happy husband who bought this place to catch her, essentially a random stranger, crying in his kitchen.

“Is your family nearby? Why didn’t they come?” A woman, Penelope could only assume was Sarah, Carolyn’s wife, was talking to the new owner of the house. Penelope stiffened, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

A deep laugh comes from the other person, and she could hear the two people approaching. “Nope, I’m a single man.”

“What the hell did you need such a big house for then?” Sarah quips.

“Just,” the guy takes a resigned breath, “Just wishful thinking I guess.“

Penelope could hear her heartbeats, the sound thrumming loudly in her ears. She shut her eyes, squeezing them to the point of something akin to pain. This couldn’t be happening. This could just be a terrible dream, and when she opened them, she would be waking up in her apartment. Back home, where she was away from her old life here. Safely away from the love of her life, whose voice she just heard for the first time in five years.

“Sarah, this is Penelope. She just stopped by to look at the house.”

Penelope reluctantly turns, peeling her eyes open. To her disappointment, she was still standing in the swept sold house. Still back in her college town.

Still right in front of her ex-fiancé, one she’s just as irrevocably in love with as she was the day he proposed.

“Derek,” she lets out quietly, drinking in everything about him. He’s only gotten better-looking, and Penelope has always been attracted to him.

It was his face, his eyes to be specific, that captured her in this moment.

Because instead of the resentment and anger she had expected, she had deserved, all that was there was a small shimmer of hope. A sliver of hope that she almost cried tears of relief at seeing. Hope she had given up on ever having until she saw it in his face. The same look reflected in her own eyes.

“Penelope.” 

His voice usually stern, she can hear the small waver in his tone. Like he’s just as affected by her as she is him.

Even after all these years, she can’t help but melt when it comes to Derek. It was like her innermost self just knew him, recognized that he, no matter how far apart they were, was always going to have a part of her heart. A power over her that she would never give to any other person.

Yet looking into Derek’s eyes, the only man to ever capture her heart, Penelope could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way she did.

“So, um, we’ll just leave you two for now,”  Carolyn’s eyes clearly wide as she drags her wife outside of the kitchen, leaving the pair alone together.

Derek walks a couple steps closer to her, the smell of nice cologne wafting to her nose as he moves near.

He opened his mouth, almost as if he were about to start speaking, but Penelope catches his small sigh and the twitch of his hands.

They were so close, closer than they had been in years, yet that short distance felt wider than the thousands of miles she had made sure to have between them for the past half a decade.

The lack of touch. That’s what was halting them.

They were always touching one another. It was an unspoken language, just for the two of them to understand. 

To be so close yet not touching, it felt so inorganic to Penelope, so abnormal.

Penelope looks just a little off to the right of him, his presence too overwhelming. He was examining her, and the quiet was anxious.

“Why didn’t you take the ring?” Derek spits out, his low voice subdued by the hurt she could just hear in his voice. “ I could handle how you left, no note or calls. But you left me your ring Penelope.”

She thought she was prepared for this, the anger he would have for her. But hearing the words in real time, from Derek himself, made her stomach turn. A ball of nausea tossed in her stomach, Derek’s pain something that never failed to physically wound Penelope.

“Derek...,” her heart breaking at how much she affected him.

“Did I,” he pauses, sucking in a shallow breath, “Did we mean that little to you?”

“No.” She locks onto his eyes at that, holding his stare. “You- us, that was everything to me.” A fierceness was in her voice that shocked her, and at the look of his slightly widened stare, she wasn’t the only one. The idea that Derek for a second could fathom the idea that he wasn’t the love of her life, her soulmate, was a stake to the heart.

“Was it marriage? Was it not wanting to be married? Because you could’ve told me.”

Surprising her own self, she moves in a half-step, her hands enclosing one of Derek’s clenched ones. Her fingers act on instinct, sliding through his, rubbing her thumb on the back of his index finger. Five years and his fingers still naturally close around hers .

Her teeth firmly sunk into the flesh on the back of her lip, she peers up at Derek, his expression unreadable. He was always better at the reading people thing, it was like second nature to him.

“I promise you, Derek Morgan, there is nothing I have ever wanted more than to marry you.”

Feeling his hand tighten around hers, glancing up to see his brows pulling together, she pushes on, needing to express to him her every feeling. “ You didn’t deserve what I did, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I didn’t feel like the luckiest person in the world to have such an amazing guy.”

“ I am so,” words that she’s been practicing for years suddenly getting clogged in her throat, making every word come out like a croak, “ so sorry for ever hurting you.”

Tears burning behind her eyes, nothing stuns her more than when Derek cups her face, his large palm enclosing her cheek as he runs his fingers lightly through her hair. 

“Is it the house?”

Taken aback, Penelope jolts her head upward. “What?”

His hand now on her shoulder, he turns her to the right, giving her a wider view of the home.

“Is it the right house?”

“It’s the perfect house.” Her voice trailing off at the end.

She faces Derek, his lips pressed together like he’s trying not to say something.

“We could- we could still have it.” His eyes looking at their hands, in a way that was so unlike him, Penelope didn’t dare try to assume anything about what his words meant.

“Have what?” her attempt to keep her voice even failing miserably. Averting his stare, her eyes land on his neck, where a thin gold chain rests.

A chain that had something that looked dangerously similar to a ring hidden under his shirt.

He looks to where she’s staring, a bald-faced look on her face, and his fingers pull out the necklace to reveal a gold wedding band. The one she bought for him, with the special engraving on the inside.

Through the tears rapidly coming to her eyes, she could see Derek’s face. And the vulnerability and love that shined from him to her 

Because he kept it. Even in his clear anger and hurt, the heartbreak she put him in, he kept her ring. 

“The plan.” Derek reaches behind his neck, his fingers reaching to the clasp of the necklace. “The big wedding, the two girls,” He slides the ring off of the chain, twirling it round in his hand. “Our dream.” He finally places the ring in her hands, gently closing her fingers around it.

Her mouth falling slightly open, Penelope slowly blinks three times. The words that just came out of his mouth so unbelievable that her brain was taking some time to catch up. She pulls her lip sideways into her mouth, too nervous to say anything.

His hands come up on each side of her face, a tender clasp that lets him turn her head up towards him.

“I never gave up on you, on us.” He lets out a sad laugh, “ Hell, I’m here about to buy a house just to try and get a piece of that dream.”

Penelope bobs her head slightly back, the shock of what’s happening still getting to her. “You really still want it?”

And Derek, bless his sweet soul, just looks at her with a small smile resting on his lips. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing babygirl,” the sound of his old nickname for her better than anything she’s heard the last few years, “that I want more than to be with you for the rest of my life.”

A matching smile coming to her mouth, she brings Derek’s left hand down to her own, and slides the wedding band on to his ring finger.

A soft cry breaks from her lips, and she feels nothing other than pure joy when he leans down, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.

Maybe, just maybe, they can have it after all.

————

taglist: @alexandrablake @lavenderbau @suburban--gothic @altsvu @rem-ariiana @vhsrights @spelleaway @willlemonheadsupremacy @ssaevie @literatekayla @criminalswifts @hotchshoney @moreidsdaughter @reidtheprettyboy

[prideful-sins]

Lucifer X GN!MC x Diavolo: Spitroasted like a boar

This is mature content 18+, you have been warned!

Ya’ll knew this was coming and I hope you enjoy it.

Ships: Diavolo X Gender Neutral! MC X Lucifer

Tags: Mature, Sexual, 2nd person (You), slight choking, double penetration (As it’s gender neutral: oral and anal), Body Worship, Rimming

Word count: 6.9K

AO3 Link

Masterlist | Buy Me A Coffee?

--

You sat within the walls of one the palace’s drawing rooms, thumbs twiddling around themselves as you looked upon the portraits, lighting fixtures, ceiling, and the furniture, in awe. The room was quiet, save for some music playing far off in the background of the palace somewhere, a soft and comforting classical piece that set your soul at ease.

Barbatos came to the house of Lamentation under Diavolo’s orders, he had asked you to join him and Lucifer for dinner tonight and you were more than happy to accept, truth be told, you’d always had a small crush on Diavolo, his happy-go-lucky attitude, his willingness for peace, the way his smile lights up the room no matter what, and his demon form made it oh so much harder for you to resist him. The horns, his markings, his eyes, his abs, his-

“MC?” A soft voice pulled you out of your lustful thoughts and you swung around to see Barbatos, “My Lord wishes you to join him now” he bowed slightly, with a small smile, and his hand resting on his chest.

You stood up and smoothed down your clothes, “Oh! of course” you said, bowing in reply. You walked towards Barbatos, who had turned his body to the side in order to let you through the door.

--

“MC truly is a wonder, aren’t they?” Diavolo was stood out on the balcony of the palace’s 5th drawing room, one of his favourites, with a glass of wine in hand and a cool breeze caressing his face.

“Indeed, a mere human able to make pacts with 6 of the members of the Student council truly is astounding” Lucifer replied solemnly, he was sat down within the room, by a table, wine glass half full and bottle residing next to it, some entrees had been laid out as a snack before the main meal.

“You don’t sound very pleased about that” Diavolo turned around and gave Lucifer a sly smile.

“My brothers are free to do as they please” a slight tone of resentment as Lucifer took a small sip of his wine, eyes keeping to the glass.

“Why haven't you made a pact with them?” The Prince walked towards the seat opposite Lucifer, a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk as his confidant eyed him suspiciously.

“If MC were to use my brothers against The Devildom, or specifically, you, I’d not like to be following their orders against my will” Lucifer’s eyes darted between his glass, the wall, and Diavolo’s dastardly stare.

Diavolo gave a chuckle, “I hardly think MC would do that, there’s another reason and you’re not telling” a teasing tone to his last words as Diavolo gave his best to try and get information.

“I suppose I’m afraid of being put on a leash, happy?”

“What if it were MC on the leash?” Diavolo’s remark was snide, his eyes glazed over with an abnormal type of lust mixed with a knowing tone, Lucifer raised a conservative eyebrow to Diavolo’s remark, the conversation was cut short by a knock at the door prompting Diavolo to chuckle and shrug, “yes?”

Barbatos’ head poked around the door, “MC is here My Lord” he said as he swung the door open to reveal you, who gave Diavolo a smile and a wave.

“Ah, the star of the show!” Both Diavolo and Lucifer stood up to face you as you walked into the room, Diavolo placed his glass down and walked up to you to envelop you within a hug, something he had insisted upon once you had given your consent in the past. 

“A show I’m not aware of?” You gave a small chuckle as you patted Diavolo’s, seemingly huge, back.

“Hello MC” Lucifer’s voice was soft as you pulled away from The Prince and gave the brother a beaming smile.

“Nice to see you again Lucifer, it’s only been a few hours but it feels like days” Perhaps you’d come off a little strong but Lucifer had always held a dear place in your heart, right next to Diavolo, or in between them, sandwiched in their-

“Indeed, the hours seem longer without your company” Diavolo remarked as he gestured to a third seat at the table, which you happily took, Lucifer nodding to the statement. “Thank you Barbatos” Diavolo gave Barbatos a smile before waving his hand and dismissing him.

You rolled your eyes to their compliment as you raised your hand to the back of your neck, “Somehow I don’t think that’s true but I’ll accept the compliment anyway” you let out a giggle as your hand dropped into your lap.

--

You had spent the next few hours eating, drinking, laughing,drinking, flirting, drinking, and talking with Lucifer and Diavolo. You hadn’t felt the time fly by at all you’d been having such good fun with the duo, and the wine, that it just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

“-he ran out of the room, bare ass shining in the moonlight as the rest of the guests cheer and clap for his sheer gusto!” You and Diavolo guffawed at the story’s ending, hands slapping against thighs and feet bouncing on the floor, Lucifer, in the other hand, merely chuckled into his wine glass, composure kept close to his chest.

“Oh my god that’s hilarious!” You tried your best to make coherent words as you wiped a tear from your eye, “you really have to applaud his tenacity!”

“Indeed, I’m not sure what I would have done in the same situation” Lucifer added as he chuckled along.

“I don’t think anyone would Lucifer!�� Your hand came to rest on his leg as you laughed once more, his gaze was now fixed upon your hand as a redness dusted his cheeks, or was that the alcohol? Upon realising your hand had lingered for longer than socially acceptable for friends you withdrew and cleared your throat.

“Say, MC?” Diavolo’s voice piped up and you turned to meet his eyeline giving a small ‘Hm?” in reply, “has anyone told you you have truly beautiful hair?” Diavolo raised a hand to entwine within your locks, his fingers dancing happily between the strands, bringing an instant blush to your face.

“We-well no, not unless they were trying to get something from me” You chuckled nervously and looked away, but Diavolo only got closer, his face now inches away from yours.

“Like?” His breath was hot on your face, voice hoarse and low, hand now cupping your cheek tenderly, your ass on the edge of your seat as you leaned into the caress.

“We-well li-like, uhm”

“Like this? Maybe?” Your lips met his, softly, tenderly, your world being enveloped by him in that moment as his hand pulled you into him more and more. Your hand instinctively reached out and softly grabbed his bicep, just as a way of grounding yourself and telling yourself this isn’t a dream. Wait, was the Prince of The Devildom really kissing you? You??? 

“Ahem” You had gotten so lost within Diavolo’s world that both of you had forgotten about Lucifer sat less than 2 metres away from you.

Diavolo pulled away from you, slightly, and breathed a huffy sigh, “If you’re so annoyed at not being included you’re welcome to join in”

“Maybe I will” Lucifer stood up as Diavolo smirked and pulled away from, a very dazed and red, you. He leaned down, placed his fingers gently under your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze, “May I?” You nodded in flustered agreement and Lucifer took no time at all to resist you. 

His lips were slightly rougher than Diavolo’s, stress biting making them seem a little coarser, but the kiss itself was entirely different. Hot and steamy as he jerked his face into yours just a little more, his other hand coming down to the arm of the chair you were sat on to support his body weight, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip ever so slightly in an act of domination and invasion. The hand from under your chin moved to the back of your neck, keeping you steadily against Lucifer, untold feelings and devotion radiating from him.

As Lucifer pulled away from you, your eyes opened, half lidded and clouded, a breath finally left your throat as a low, drawling, sigh, and your chest relieved it’s tension. Your rose coloured vision finally cleared and you saw a pair of deep, red, eyes staring back at you, filled with lust and a desire to tear your clothes off of your body. The rustling of fabric, from behind Lucifer, awoke you from your state, you saw Diavolo standing, his hands coming up to the buttons on his jacket, fingers nimbly wrapping around them, and then his back. The Prince’s jacket was shrugged off of his shoulders and thrown onto the chair he had just left. 

“MC?” The Prince’s voice was soft and deep, a compliment to his kiss.

“Yes?” Your voice, on the other hand, was barely above a whisper, your soul had already departed it’s mortal vessel because of the kisses you had received, your body was rebelling, it wanted to soar directly up into The Celestial Realm where your emotions had flown so high.

Lucifer pulled away from you, his hand’s touch lingering upon your skin, and you stood up to meet Diavolo’s eye.”I have to say, I’ve admired you from afar for quite a while now” a few buttons of his shirt had been undone and the tie loosened from his neck.

“Y-you have?” The raw sexual energy that Diavolo was exuding right now had made you timid, your breath was quick and expecting, hands fumbling around with the hem of your clothes, voice barely even there as you stared a hole into his throat and collarbone.

“Indeed, there’s something about you, you know” he took a step forward and placed a hand under your chin, so soft that you could barely feel it, so your body reacted unintentionally bringing you deeper into his touch. “You draw people, demons especially, close to you. That personality, that smile, that laugh, all of you” Diavolo drew in close once more, his lips now a mere inch away from yours, the breath of his words hot upon your own raggedy sighs, “and I,for one, just can’t get enough of it”

“I’ll admit” you had gained a little confidence now, knowing what the situation was becoming, and your voice told that. The whisper was now a bratty purr as you brought your hands to rest on Diavolo’s hips, “I can’t seem to get enough of you, either of you” you bit your lips as your eyes darted between Diavolo’s lips and eyes, anxious in anticipation. You brought your face just that little ways closer to his, your lips touching in the faintest of ways, a low, almost unheard, growl came from The Prince before he made your lips touch.

As you kissed Diavolo, you heard more rustling of fabric behind you, what you could only assume was Lucifer shedding off some of his layers, too. “MC?” You heard Lucifer’s voice mumbling from behind you as a gloved hand came upon the crook of your neck, the other resting on your waist. Lucifer’s head came to rest on the other side of your neck, his lips dotting small kisses onto your skin, each contact sending a wave through your spine.

You pulled away from Diavolo and brought your foreheads together, small pants escaping each of your bodies. “Yeah?” barely a whisper of reply to Lucifer’s question as he kept dusting his lips upon you.

“You know what we’ve been doing, and what would come” you looked over at Lucifer, head leaning on his hand as your half lidded eyes met his own, a small nod, once more, in reply to his statement. “Do you wish for this too? Do you want this as much as we do?”

Never did you think this day would come, having Lucifer and Diavolo want you like this was a dream come true, something you’d wished upon yourself for weeks with no intent of it ever actually happening. Barely a heartbeat was skipped before you nodded, whispering a “Yes. Please, yes.”, one of your hands leaving Diavolo’s hip and coming up to rest upon the hand on your neck.

Diavolo muttered, “you don’t know how long we’ve waited for this MC” You were sandwiched between these two, beautiful, men and now both of them were kissing on your neck, “months of yearning to touch you like this” the words were muttered between the kisses he placed on your neck.

“I- I’ve wanted this, too- aah” Diavolo and Lucifer bit down on your neck at the same time, in very sensitive spots, making you moan, a lot louder than you had wanted to, and leading your knees to buckle ever so slightly, “alot longer than I care to admit” your words were broken by pants, very heavy pants and sighs. Lucifer licked up the back of your neck ever so slightly and bit down once again, softer this time, you raised a hand and threaded it within his hair edging him into a soft moan.

Diavolo removed his lips from your neck, the area screaming for him to return as the cool air hit your raw skin, and placed them upon your own. Once more, a soft kiss from The Prince, your eyes instinctively closing with the touch, eyebrows furrowing upwards as your hand grabbed at Diavolo’s shirt, tugging it out from the waistband it was tucked into.

Lucifer’s hands came around your stomach, resting upon the hem of your clothes, one hand sliding upwards to come into contact with your bare skin. It reacted, a shock wave was sent directly through your spine as his fingers made contact with your stomach, painted nails curled and digging, just slightly, into your skin.

Your hands worked nimbly around the edges and frays of Diavolo’s shirt, hunting for buttons to undo but your fingers just weren’t working with your brain, you struggled to find them amongst the clouds of your mind. “Let me” Diavolo whispered, his hands leaving your body and coming to his collar, tie loosened, and buttons now slowly being undone, showing more and more of his skin. As the upper half was opened you brought your hands upon Diavolo’s chest, tracing your fingertips along the markings on his chest, a faithful reminder of just who you were dealing with. Diavolo bit his lip, just a little, as he felt your hands, gracefully, along his skin, tracing over his nipples in small circles, feeling the tiny metal balls of his piercings with your fingertips.

As you had been doing this, Lucifer had removed his hands from you and began unbuttoning his waistcoat with shoes already kicked off to the side, all the while his lips hardly leaving your neck, only to place kisses. You took your hands off of Diavolo’s body and began to remove your own clothing, buttons and collars ripped off as fast as you could so no time was wasted getting back to ravishing these men and having them ravish you

All off you were now topless, admiring each other with eyes and hands, you had turned to face Lucifer, Diavolo’s huge chest now against your back as his hands roamed the skin of your hips, thumbs screwing little circles on the bone as his fingertips slipped into the waistband of your trousers, teasingly asking for more. Lucifer’s hands were scandalously un-gloved and massaging your chest, fingers twirling around your nipples, the buds reacting in sheer bliss as your breaths became hitched and moans crawled out from your lips. His lips were upon yours, tongues dancing along to your rhythms as moans and growls were sent up into the air.

Your hands had been on Lucifer’s back, nails dug deep into his shoulders as your hips bucked into his thigh, placed strategically between your own. Twirling became pinching as Lucifer’s fingertips closed around your hard nipples, you threw your head back moaning in sheer pleasure but Lucifer wasted no time, his lips, once more, upon your neck, biting down amongst the red marks before, already forming your own type of pact mark, an obvious statement that you belonged to someone once you left this room.

“Lucifer- aah“ Your nails dug even deeper, causing his back to tense just a little as your fingers dragged down his skin. There was no pain on Lucifer’s part, the friction of your nails upon his back was ecstasy, his hands moved swiftly from your chest straight down to your ass, hooking underneath and lifting you up with ease causing you to yelp in surprise. Diavolo caught on immediately and pressed against you, acting as a second support as your legs wrapped around Lucifer’s torso, the Prince’s hands coming to your chest, and lips kissing along your shoulders.

You had been so wrapped up in everything happening you hadn’t even noticed....they were both hard as hell, Diavolo’s cock pressing against your ass, and Lucifer’s on your own sex. The utter feeling of just knowing you were the cause for their erections was amazing, the way they ravished you made you go crazy, you were horny beyond belief between these two demons, and almost certain they could sense it.

“pl-please” you whimpered, alerting the men who responded with slightly startled hums, “let me down, I need one of you in my mouth, please” a low chuckle from Lucifer, and a whisper from Diavolo.

“Of course” You unwrapped your legs from Lucifer, his hands letting you down slowly, Diavolo stepped away his hands leaving your chest and now upon the hem of his trousers, seamlessly working the buttons and zipper, the image of his boxer shorts coming into view. You knelt down between them, knees hitting the cold tiles with a small ‘thunk’ facing towards Lucifer, who stood there expectantly, a smirk on his face. He wasn’t going to undo his trousers for you, he’s waiting for you to do it.

Your hands got to work, fingering the buttons and working around Lucifer’s erection, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, once again the sound of fabric hitting the floor from behind you. Fingertips deftly curled around the waistbands of Lucifer’s trousers and underwear, teasingly pulling them as slow as possible, your eyes meeting his, a hungry gaze staring into your own lust-filled eyes. Little by little you tugged his waist band down revealing more of Lucifer’s skin, neatly trimmed pubic hair, and then the base of his erection.

“If you don’t hurry up you’ll make both of us impatient, MC” you felt another hand on your shoulder, Diavolo patiently waiting for you to disrobe Lucifer’s trousers, you were brought out of your lusty haze and proceeded to continue, hands now tugging eagerly, restless to have him within your mouth.

Lucifer’s erection was magnificent, long and slender, veins almost complimenting it as they wound their way up the base of his dick. Your eyes almost popping out of your head, fingers trailing softly over the sides at the base of his penis. You heard steps and Diavolo came into view ‘oh shit’ his erection was even larger, and thicker, than Lucifer’s, veins throbbing, pubes long but neat, his head leaking thick drops of pre-cum.

Your right hand closed around the base of Diavolo’s cock, while your left was on the tip of Lucifer’s, thumb massaging gently at the underside of the tip, just over the vein. Accepting grunts and soft sighs came from the men as they relaxed under your touch, the grip on your shoulder loosening ever so slightly as your hands worked their magic.

As your fingers massaged their dicks you brought your lips to the tip of Lucifer’s head and kissing the tip where the pre-cum had seeped out, your lips now dotted with a little of his white, a new marker of your relationship. Your right hand started pumping Diavolo, slowly, moving just a little further up the shaft with every rise and fall. you lips, on the other hand, were now wrapped around the tip of Lucifer’s cock, tongue licking over the slit and sliding underneath, over the vein in a desperate attempt to break his outer shell a little.

You bobbed your head down a little, taking more of Lucifer within your mouth just another inch, your tongue flat on the underside veins enveloped by your muscle. Diavolo became impatient, your hands not working fast enough as he bucked into you, the girth of his penis being fully realised as your fingers had no hope in touching.

“So beautiful,” Diavolo whispered in that low tone that drove your insides crazy as your eyes met his, mouth still wrapped around Lucifer, who nodded in agreement, “but we aren’t going to keep being patient, MC” Lucifer’s hand moved from your shoulder and came up into your hair on the back of your head, “we’ve waited too long to savour it for hours, I hope you don’t mind” as Diavolo finished his sentence Lucifer’s hand thrust your head further down his dick, making it hit the back of your throat and causing you to gag loudly, wide smirks upon the demons’ faces.

You got the message. The spit from your previous gagging was now your lube your head moving at an increased speed, with one last deep throat you pulled your lips from Lucifer and faced Diavolo, as you stuck your tongue flat out ready for him a drop of saliva lingered at the tip of your tongue. You raised his dick high and placed your tongue on his balls, licking all the way up to the tip causing Diavolo to growl in pleasure as he lost himself in you. Your mouth wrapped around his cock and got to work, he was big, so much bigger than you had been used to but fuck if you weren't going to try your best to fit him in you.

Diavolo moved his hand to your cheek his fingers entwining in your hair as his hips bucked and moved in rhythm to your head, moans and growls from both of the men as they revelled in your pleasures. A warmth in your stomach began to roar at you, thighs clamping together in order to control your own desires, your sex becoming more and more desperate to be pleased. Your head bobbed up and down, mouth full of Diavolo’s dick, your hands moving and massaging both of the demons’ cocks, spit dripping down your chin as Diavolo hit the back of your throat. With each gag you kept going, the moans and groans of Diavolo spurring you on to keep going deeper and deeper, so much so you could almost feel his dick in your stomach.

You looked up, eyes meeting Diavolo’s and removed your mouth from his with a loud sigh, saliva beading from your mouth to his dick. Your lungs burned as you panted, eyebrows furrowing as your eyes looked between the two men, pleading for them to give you some attention. Lucifer smirked and held out his hand, you took it, graciously, and rose to your feet. 

“Come” he instructed, as you and Diavolo followed, being led to the chair you had vacated earlier. “Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked, Diavolo responding with a sultry, low, hum. “Care to remove MC’s remaining clothes?” Your eyebrows raised as Diavolo’s hands instantly came to your waistband, fingers unbuttoning and ravaging your clothes, almost ripping them off of you, your body naked in the blink of an eye as you stepped away from the garments clumped on the floor. You had no time to feel self conscious or to blush because

Lucifer sat in the seat, his legs spread slightly and hand, once more, out and waiting for you to take it, which you did. He led you towards him and you stood there, in all your glory. Lucifer eyed your body, the longer he took the more ground Diavolo gained on your hips, his hands edging closer and closer to the base of your stomach.

“Sit.” Another order form Lucifer.

“Wh- where?” You stuttered, blinking confused.

“You know where. Now sit.” Lucifer roughly yanked your hand and you turned, bending down and sitting on his stomach, his dick between your legs and his hands supporting you. Diavolo knelt down in front of you and brought his mouth down to your ass, his hot breath making your nerves tingle with excitement. His hands came under your thighs and lifted them over his shoulders before moving his hands, one placed on your lower stomach, and the other softly massaging the base of Lucifer’s dick, keeping you both on a high.

As Diavolo touched upon your most sensitive areas with his lips you gasped and moaned, your hips bucking forward into him and grinding against Lucifer’s cock ever so slightly. A hearty sigh was felt on the back of your neck as Lucifer groaned, the feeling of your sex against him made him lose himself just a little, a hand moved from supporting your ass to your neck, lightly choking you. His fingers dug into your skin, nails providing additional marks to the love-bites, there was no way you were leaving this room with even a semblance of question-ability of whom you belonged to.

You gasped at the feeling of Lucifer’s hand on your neck, a startled yelp as your legs twitched and convulsed at the sensation of Diavolo granting you pleasure, making sure you were sufficiently lubed up for them. The Prince removed his mouth from you, your thighs twitching for him to return, your whole body whining at the loss of contact.

“MC?” he whispered as his lips kissed just above your genitals.

You looked down, with only your eyes as Lucifer’s hand restricted your head’s movement. “Y-yes?”

Diavolo still talked in a hushed whisper. his lips kissing up more and more of your stomach, “Yes what?” Lucifer briefly closed the grip on his hand, choking you out of your breath for just a second, showing you your punishment.

“Yes, Lord Diavolo?” You whimpered, body screaming to be used by them, your guard completely gone, in this moment you trusted them with whatever they wanted to do.

He smirked at your meagre response after submitting to them both so easily, “that’s better” Diavolo’s hands rested on the underside of your thighs, “are you ready?” his question was soft but his eyes were harsh, taken over by lust. Asmodeus would be having a field day.

You nodded, a little hesitantly, not to the sex but just to the question as to how Lucifer, or Diavolo, was going to fit inside of you. “I don’t know if you’ll even fit” you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked under the pressure.

“We’ll start off with Lucifer, ease you into it. Next time though, it’ll be me” Diavolo shrugged your legs from his shoulders and stood, holding out his hands for you to take. As you did, Lucifer eased his grip on your neck and let you go, your legs a little shaky, and his dick twitching in anticipation.

“You’ll be okay MC, we won’t hurt you” Lucifer paused as he placed his hands on your ass cheeks, “too much” you could practically feel his smirk in the tone of his voice. Diavolo brought your hands to his chest, one wrapping around his neck to moral support, and as a stable foundation. You could feel Lucifer parting your ass cheeks and fingering your ass, the tip circling around the entrance. You moved your hips in response, edging them down and pressing your opening against his finger. “You’re very impatient MC. Fine, if that is what you wish”

You whimpered as Lucifer entered a finger into you, slowly, letting you adjust as your moans echoed off of the walls. Diavolo bit his lips as he watched the contortions your face made, eyebrows raised and then furrowed, your mouth parting as you sucked in sharp breaths. He couldn’t help himself, you looked so fucking cute he just had to kiss you. His lips darted to your neck once more kissing all over and taking you by surprise. Lucifer started moving his finger within you, the feeling driving your hips wild as you began riding him, your moans falling on deaf ears as your nails dug into Diavolo’s skin, leaving tiny red marks in their wake.

“Ah-ha fuck” a whimper was all that could come out, the thought of making words exist as you felt this pleasure was impossible. All you wanted to do was make these gruff noises to show them how good they made you feel, electric shocks riding your spine like a roller coaster as each bend of his finger shocked you.

Another finger entered, widening the opening for Lucifer, his fingers working double time as you panted and heaved. You grabbed a fistful of Diavolo’s hair and yanked his head off of your neck, startling him, before pulling him in for a kiss. The heavy breaths leaving your nose as you parted between sloppy kisses to sigh and pant, teeth biting at each others lips in a desperate act of domination, you had no chance of winning but damn if you weren’t going to try. Your hips clashed into Lucifer’s erection, the head hitting against your sex.

“Lucifer” your words were breathless, barely any volume compared to the heaving sighs that separated them, “please- hah- I need you in me please”  You continued your attack on Diavolo’s lips, his hands clawing at your back, the painful sensation sending you into a prideful rage as your own hands clawed and scratched their way over his chest and upper shoulder. A chuckle came from the eldest brother, you knew he would oblige as soon as you felt his finger’s leave you, he wanted to make you scream their names by the end of the night and you knew he was going to make it happen.

Diavolo parted from you, just for a moment, as Lucifer manoeuvred your hips, placing your ass just over his dick. You could feel the head teasing at you, and you teased back, rolling your hips around with a smirk on your face as Lucifer’s erection ached against you. Diavolo pressed his cheek against yours and whispered in your ear.

“Bite me when it hurts” you nodded in agreement and moved your lips to his collarbone. With one last tease Lucifer pulled your hips down and began entering you, the sheer feeling of his dick invading your ass was agony. You weren’t used to this and they could tell as you let out a painful yelp, Diavolo’s hand coming up to the back of your head, a light shush as he consoled you.

“Bite and adjust, we’re only just getting started” You could feel Lucifer’s hands move from your hips and come across your back, adding secondary consolation. Sharp breaths were hot against Diavolo’s neck as you lowered your hips to fit more of Lucifer within you, his hips involuntary twitching sending a painful reception to your brain, teeth biting down into Diavolo’s skin, bringing the chain reaction to an end as he abruptly exhaled in pleasure.

Half of Lucifer was within you and all your body could do was melt, the feeling of your ass widening just that little bit more, the moans and growls of the men around you spurring your adrenaline into a frenzy. Teeth digging into Diavolo’s flesh, not because of pain, but because of that moan he makes, the way his fingers curl into the skin on your back, the sight of his dick twitching each time you bite down on his collarbone, that’s why you keep doing it. Sheer pleasure.

Once you had fully taken Lucifer, the sharp pain gone and replaced with pleasure, you nodded. Lucifer’s hands moved from your back, no longer consoling you, and were placed on your hips, gripping with intent to fuck. He lifted you, your knees already feeling weak as your stomach heated up, the spur of your own orgasm growling in the depths. Lucifer was almost fully out, the tip remaining within you, and with a slight pause he pulled you down, the first of many thrusts. You yelped out in pleasure, throwing your head back as you sighed and panted, his name teetering on your lips as the thrusts within you drove your mind crazy.

“Lu- hahh- Luciff- ha” Diavolo relished in the way you looked as you bobbed up and down on Lucifer’s dick, tongue lingering on your lips as saliva drooled down your chin. You didn’t care how you looked right now cause you were truly in heaven, or as close as you could get while in The Devildom.

As Lucifer thrust within you Diavolo stood up as gave a smirk, his hand now cupping your cheek in an effort to make you look at him and only him for a short while. “MC? I’d like you to keep me happy, too” You nodded in agreement and leaned down, still having Lucifer within you. The Prince’s cock was still hard, and you took it in your hand once again, one cupping and massaging his balls, the other pumping around his base, your tongue licked along his slit and, once more, you took it within your mouth. 

The blowjob was sloppy, the pleasure made your head spin the hands caressing you sending you into a frenzy, eyes rolling around your head as you tried your best to focus on bringing Diavolo pleasure. From the look on his face, you were succeeding, his hand balled up in your hair, pulling you up and down his dick, the tip hitting the back of your throat, every gag making him push you down further. You could hardly breathe, all that was coming out of you was moaning as you serviced the men. Lucifer panting behind you, his composure deteriorating as his thrusts became slightly out of rhythm, your own attempts at moving your hips interrupted as Diavolo pushed your head down.

You could feel it, all of you were climbing that mountain, the steps getting closer and closer to all of your orgasms. Your stomach had a pi  as your sex twitched and pulsated the electric shocks around your body. Chests heaving an out of sync song as the moans created the tunes. All of you were getting there, but one of you needed some more. Diavolo looked at Lucifer, as best as he could, and nodded, He pulled your head from his dick and raised you to face him, a low drawl of a chuckle before stating “my turn”

You obliged and Lucifer let you off, you stood up and bent over, mouth now over Lucifer’s cock and Diavolo’s dick teasing at your entrance. You hated the feeling of them leaving you, your whole body screaming for you to get back into that addictive rhythm, and they obliged wholeheartedly. Diavolo pushed within you, his dick stretching you even more than Lucifer’s did, another shot of pain before quickly adjusting. You mewled a sound, something that resembled positivity, telling him to go all the way, and he did, Diavolo hit something within you, something you weren’t aware of, your knees going weak and making you lose balance as you screamed out a moan, but you couldn’t keep Lucifer waiting any longer and licked up his dick. You could taste yourself on him, his moans spurring you forth to keep going, deeper and deeper, the same as Diavolo was doing to you. 

“Please, keep going” you heard him whisper, a before unseen plea that attested to his feelings. The most you could muster was wrapping your mouth around him and sucking, all words evaporating into pleasure as your hips rocked against Diavolo, the light slapping of flesh echoing within the room along with sighs and moans. How could you resist a plea like that? Seeing his vulnerability, him letting you see it, all you wanted to do was praise him, in this situation you did the best you could. With your mouth and your hands. You moved your hand and caressed up his stomach all the way up to his chest, where your fingers came to his nipple. You gave it a pinch, rolling your fingers around, causing Lucifer to lean his head back and arch himself into you, a small moan escaping his lips as he let himself go. His hand entwined in your hair, the other resting on your shoulder as you bobbed your head up and down on his dick, in time with Diavolo’s hard thrusts.

Your stomach turned around on itself, the feeling of Diavolo pounding against your g-spot, each time he hit it making your knees weaker and weaker. You tried your best to keep yourself steady for them, leaning as much of your weight as you could into Lucifer as you bobbed your head up and down his dick. Your spit pooling at the base and around your lips, your hand wet and slick as you massaged in time with your head raising and falling. The grunts and moans of your pleasures only enticing Lucifer’s orgasm more and more, his fingers twitching within your hair as he bit down on his lip.

Diavolo’s thrusting was becoming sporadic, out of time and heretical, his grunting and panting edging closer to your ear as his back arched further and further down. His hands gripping onto your hips for dear life, a vain attempt to ground himself in this ecstasy. You could feel Diavolo’s sweat, pooling from his brow, on your back as he leaned his head against you. You were close, too, your whole body getting weaker and weaker as it became harder to focus on anything other than your impending climax. 

“MC I’m going to cum inside of you, okay?” Diavolo panted, you nodded in response, keeping your lips wrapped around Lucifer’s dick.

“Me too” Lucifer piped up, his voice wavering as his hips jerked and thrust himself further into your mouth, your hand lingering as you moaned with pleasure, walls closing in around Diavolo are your body climbed to orgasm. You removed your lips from Lucifer’s dick, a loud gasp filling the room as you moaned out Diavolo and Lucifer’s names, basically screaming them out as Diavolo fucked you into oblivion.

“I’m gonna- hhah- I’m gonna cum, please please keep fucking me” you whined your case, hand continuing to massage Lucifer into his climax his hips jolting, and hand tugging at your hair as he breathed out his replies.

“MC hahh” Lucifer’s chest was heaving, his orgasm imminent. You stuck out your tongue, resting it on the base of his head, tip pointing into your mouth, you wanted to catch it all and leave nothing behind. His hips kept jolting and you tried your best to keep yourself steady as Diavolo thrust deep within you. With no warning Lucifer came, his cum shooting into your mouth, hitting the back, the sides, and pooling onto your tongue. He let out a loud moan as his head was thrown back in pleasure, hips bucking and thighs tensing as he moaned out your name. His seed was slightly sour, a salty taste to it, must have been all of the coffee ha drank, and you swallowed it all. Lucifer looked down at you, a prideful smirk on his face as he watched you lick the remains of his cum from your lips.

Diavolo wasted no time in pulling you up with him, standing and fucking you deeply, your own orgasm now at the forefront of your mind. You had become a babbling mess, Diavolo’s name echoing from your lips as he pinned you against him via your arms. “I’m close, MC” Diavolo muttered into your ear and you desperately nodded in agreement, your hair falling over your sweaty forehead, eyes looking into Lucifer as he sat there and watched you get fucked.

With one last thrust, deep into your g-spot, you and Diavolo came together. His seed filled you up as you screamed his name in please. The whole Devildom was sure to hear you tonight, your legs gave out but Diavolo was there to keep you up, his dick deep in you as he grunted and moaned your name into the halls.

You fell down onto your knees, a heaving panting mess on all fours. Diavolo sat down on one of the other seats a half-hearted chuckle coming from him as he finally relaxed. All of you were breathless and worn out, your body realising how much you’d just gone through, the adrenaline rush had gone and only a numb pain remained, sitting was going to be difficult tomorrow.

Diavolo broke the silence, “I have to admit, I didn’t expect that” he continued chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Me neither, you did well MC” Lucifer commended, his hand coming down to help you up, which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you but” you paused as your knees slightly gave way.

“But?”

“I may have to take some days off from RAD to recover” you tittered.

“I think we can arrange that, I can think of something else we can be doing instead” Diavolo winked at you, his voice playful and devilish. What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

[sherrybaby14]

Blue Spiders

A/N:  This is chapter one in a series!  I think it is going to be 3 parts, but if more is requested I do have an outline where I could take it to 10.  (Updates on Thursdays)

Pairing: AU Psychiatrist Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Words:  3700

Summary:  An interview with a charming doctor leads to more

Warnings:  This chapter, mentions of violence and murder, alcohol.  I HAVE NOT WARNED FOR EVERYTHING POSSIBLE.  PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.  

   Smoothing out your blazer and squaring your shoulders you rose your fist and knocked on the door.  

   It swung open, taking your breath away at the swiftness of the response.  Your jaw dropped for a moment, but you shook the nerves away, always the professional.  He was more gorgeous in person with blond hair and blue eyes.  The All-American man.

   “Dr. Rogers?”  You asked.  

   “So I’ve been called.”  He stepped to the side.  “Please come in.”

   Your eyes went up at the expanse of his office.  It had a balcony going around the entire space, floor to ceiling in books.  The main floor was open with a huge mahogany desk behind bright windows.  There was a sitting area with two chairs, a couch, and a coffee table.  On the wall hung a giant painting.

   “Is that a Jackson Pollock?”  You were surprised to see such a chaotic artist hung in a therapist’s office.  

   “I know it’s not the traditional calming image you would expect a doctor to hang, but I find it opens people up on the subconscious and allows my patients to see the beauty in madness.”   His voice made the hairs on your body rise, so calm and collected.  

   “Are most of your patients mad?”  You looked over your shoulder to see icy blue eyes taking in your face.  

   “We’re not here to discuss my patients Miss, that is private information.”  He wagged a finger in your face before moving toward the sitting area. “I was very clear when I agreed to the interview.”  

   “Of course, Dr. Rogers.”  You followed and sat down opposite him.  “I am sure my editor went over the basics with you, but this is for a feature we do monthly on interesting people in the area.  There is nothing to worry about, it is not investigative journalism, only a puff piece for our readers looking for human interest stories.”  

   “Yes, I am still uncertain why I was selected.”  The man adjusted his tie that was tucked into a vest.  He wore those clothes well.  “I fear I am not that interesting.”

   “You were instrumental in the capture of the Canary Killer.”  You were shocked by his modesty.  “The FBI has praised your work and referred to you as an essential asset even though you are not an agent.  That alone makes you very fascinating.”

   “The Canary Killer.”  Dr. Rogers rolled his eyes.  “I am not a fan of those nicknames.  They devalue the lives of the victims, and criminals are not my expertise.”  

   “Do you mind?”  You reached into your bag and pulled out a tape recorder.  “I did not expect to start this soon.”

   “Please.”  He crossed his legs and his lips turned into a small smirk.  “And tell me, why would your readers care about a murderer in Iowa?  I am sure they are locally based.”  

   “Yes.  We are out of Washington D.C., readership largely in Maryland and Virginia.  The surrounding areas, but a killer like this facinates anyone regardless of region.”  As his smile dropped you worried you were coming off too forward.  “And, the focus of the piece is on you, not the killings.  We want to know your background, your story.  I am sure it is more exciting than you give yourself credit for.”  

   “Your dialect is strange.”  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.  “I can’t quite place where you are from.”  

   “I moved around a lot as a child.”  You looked away from his deep stare.  “Is linguistics one of your hobbies? Would you like to expand on that?”  

   “It is fascinating. Almost as if you have no accent at all.  Very unheard of.  Tell me, are you trying to disguise your voice?”  His teeth ran over his lip, sending a tremble down your spine.  

   “Doctor, I appreciate the question, but I don’t think I could afford your hourly rate.”  You weren’t used to your subjects asking you many questions.  “How about you?  Where were you born? What drew you to therapy?”  

   “Right.”  His smirk returned.  “I was born abroad.  My parents passed when I was twelve, I became responsible for my younger sister and believe it or not we snuck in illegally.”  

   The doctor’s comment on your accent threw you off, especially when he himself was born abroad but had no trace of one.  He continued on with his life story and you barely had to ask a question.  Everything about the man was fascinating.  

   “After my years in general surgery I discovered that most of my patients were more concerned with the mental effects and less with the recovery.  I enjoyed helping them with any resulting depression or anxiety and realized my love for the blade was second to my love of the mind.”  Dr. Rogers glanced toward the window.  “People are fascinating and I want to help in any way I can.”  

   “That is very noble of you.”  The jitters you had about his attractiveness were now dwarfed compared to the intensity of his wisdom and compassion.  “I know we are running low on time.  Is there any personal anecdote you want to include?  Wife or kids?  Dog?”  

   His smile brightened the room as he let out a laugh.

   “Unfortunately my dedication to my work has left no time for any personal life.”  He rose from his seat.  “Though since this is a human interest piece, I would say my main hobbies are music and cooking.”  

   “Wow. Even your hobbies are impressive.”  You followed his lead, grabbing your recorder and hitting stop.  “You don’t have any unproductive time.  Never lose yourself in a television show? Read a pulp novel?”  

   “I do not enjoy fiction much.”  He shrugged.  “What is the point when the real world is so interesting?”  

   “I never thought about it that way.”  You smiled.  “Thank you for your time.  As a courtesy I will send over the article before it is published, not for your approval of course, but your awareness.”  

   “I am sure it will be as dull as me talking about myself has been.”  He held a hand toward the door.  

   “That is a way to put it, especially since hearing you talk about yourself was the opposite of dull.”  You couldn’t find the right words to say, but that did not stop you from speaking.  “You see the world through a unique lens and have had very unique experiences.  Almost as if, as a species, we are lucky to have you.”  

   You felt like you should cringe or apologize, but something about the man made you speak your mind.  

   “And you must be very good at your job, because I felt comfortable saying that to you and I am not even a patient.”  You stopped at the door to his office.  

   The two of you faced each other, his hand went for the knob, but he paused.  

   “You are not my patient.”  Dr. Roger’s eyes glanced over your face, then stopped at your own.  The two of you stared at each other and you did not look away as a chill went down your spine, the intensity of the man.  

   He was about to speak again when a boom landed on the door.  You jumped and put your hand to your heart, your adrenaline flaring.  

   “I’m sorry Dr. Rogers.”  The door swung open and a familiar face walked in.  “But I need to see you right away.”  

   The new guest’s voice trailed off as he spotted you.  His face scrunched and a look of disgust came over.

   “What are you doing here?”  Blue eyes glared into your soul.  

   A smirk crossed your face as you folded your arms.  

   “Hello Agent Barnes, always a pleasure.”  You should have figured he was a patient.  “I am writing a human interest piece on Dr. Rogers.”  

   “You talked to her?”  James looked to the doctor.  “About me?”  

   “I didn’t mean to create more problems for you to discuss.”  You bit back the urge to fire a crack about his narcissism.  “Thank you again Doctor.  I will send you the piece in the next week or so.”  

   You held out your hand and watched as the blonde man shook it with hesitation.  

   That deep intense stare was gone.  Your heart deflated as you left the office, trying to hold your head high and shoulders square.  It felt like he was going to ask you out on a date for a moment, one you would have gladly expected.  

   The cringe you were fighting came forward as you left the swanky office building.  Agent Barnes interference or not it was a stupid fantasy.  This man was too good for you.

~~

   Steve considered his ability to read people top notch.  Even though he was the one speaking he spent the past hour studying the journalist and to say she was intriguing was an understatement.  

   In fact, he was interested enough he was on the verge of asking the woman to dinner.  

   Bucky’s apparent hatred toward the woman was not expected and Steve found himself mentally recapping the interview to see if he missed something.  

   Before he could assess the situation she stormed off.  Her quip about Bucky being a patient was ruder than he found acceptable.  

   “You gave an interview to Miranda Balfour?”  Bucky gripped his long dark hair as he walked into the office.  “What were you thinking?”

   “What?”  Steve shut the door.  “That was not her name.”

   “Of course she gave you a fake name.”  Bucky scoffed.  “I hope you are prepared to have your reputation trashed.  Did you think to, google whatever name she gave you?”  

   “I did and she checked out.”  Steve's intrigue for the woman was turning to anger.  “Now who are you claiming she is?”  

   “She is Miranda Balfour.  She runs a murder blog, always posting sensational stories.  She gave extensive coverage to the Canary Killer.”  Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Nothing better than a gossip rag.  I’m surprised you haven’t noticed her.  She’s always lurking around any local crime scene.  Trying to get pictures and interviews like she is a legitimate source.  It is disgraceful.”  

   Steve could feel his body temperature start to rise.  He thought about walking over to his desk and sweeping everything off, then taking an axe to the thing.  He imagined the wood slowly turning into the face of Miranda Balfour as she took a whack to the head, splintering as easy as a tree stump.  

   “Well if I have been duped, it is nobody’s fault but my own.”  Steve shut the door to his office.  “What brings you by so urgently Buck?”

   “The New England Butcher.”  Bucky shook his head.  “I stayed up late last night, going over every murder in the area that even remotely fit his MO.”  

   “There is one issue off the bat.”  Steve took a seat in the chair, knowing Bucky preferred to pace while he spoke.  “Lack of sleep.”

   “Six murders in three years.  Each gruesome in their own way.  The randomness of the kills, the victims.  It is like we were only able to string them together because he wanted us to.”  Bucky stopped.  “And that is what caught my attention.  What about the ones he doesn’t want us to?”

   Bucky sat down and dropped a file on the table.  Steve was annoyed at the waste of paper when an email would have sufficed, but he indulged Bucky and picked up the file.  

   The first photo was of a dismembered man found in a ditch.  Steve knew the date off the top of his head, July 2nd 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was a pig of a man.

   “That is a murder from 2013.  Blake Corenzo.  He was stabbed and chopped post mortem.”  James glared as Steve looked up, waiting for his punchline.  “I think he was the Butcher’s first victim.”

Steve bit back a laugh with expertise.  

“The brutality matches.  But what was missing?”  Steve was curious if the Agent was going to connect the dots.  

“Nothing.”  He sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead.  “Or something we missed.  But I have seven more bodies I believe are connected.  We know that as killers go on they get lazier, think they are unwatchable, but the Butcher, he is different.  We are not going to catch him on a technicality or sloppiness.  He is too good.”  

Steve did enjoy the flattery.  

“We have to find his first kill.  It always starts with someone they know.  Always.”  Bucky had a desperation to his voice.

“So you believe that this Blake Corenzo knew the Butcher?”  Steve watched Bucky struggle to connect the dots, not realizing he was the fish on the hook in this game he was not even aware he was playing.  “Have you told Anthony Stark?”  

“Yes.” The air deflated out of Bucky as he fell back into the couch.  “He told me mandatory session with you before I am cleared to return to work.”  

“If I check my e-mail will there be one from him?  Is that what it will say?”  Steve appreciated the protectiveness Tony had for Bucky. In a way it was as if Stark saw Barnes’ brain as a fragile asset.  One he was constantly concerned was about to break.  

“It will say I can’t go back until you clear me.”  Bucky tried to hide the humiliation.

A man in his 30s being controlled by his boss and therapist as if he were a child.  Steve recognized something in Bucky, an equality almost.  Because Tony Stark’s concern were not without merit.  James Buchanan Barnes did have a brain that could operate like no other and if anyone were to catch the Butcher Steve was certain it was the Agent in front of him.  

“You are obsessing again.”  Steve crossed his legs.  “It is not healthy.  You are getting too involved.  The Butcher hasn’t struck in three months and twice already this year.  It’s likely he will not attack for some time.  You are trying to create leads.”  

“You sound like Tony.”  Bucky scoffed and looked away.  “When I sleep,  I see their faces.”

“Whose faces?”  Steve leaned in, unsure what Bucky was going to say next.  

“The ones, the ones I didn’t save.” Tears glossed over Bucky’s eyes.  “Not the ones who have already died.  The ones who will if I don’t stop him.  Their faces are blurry but they’re pleading with me.”  

“People die every day.  You cannot carry that guilt.  It will destroy you.”  Steve reached for his rx pad.  

“I can’t help the people who die every day, but I can help these people.  If I can stop the Butcher.”  Bucky’s jaw tightened.  

“You keep saying ‘I’ when it is a team effort.  You are not a superhero.  You cannot do this alone.”  Steve wrote out a medication.  

“I have to since none of you will listen to me.  Not Tony, not you.”  Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Even Natasha told me to give it a rest.”  

“Maybe that says something.”  Steve handed Bucky the prescription.  “That will stop the dreams.  Take one before bed and get some sleep.”  

“And then what?”  Bucky looked up, lips parted.  

“And then come and see me in the morning.  Once you are rested we will have a conversation about Blake Corenzo and I will talk to Mr. Stark.”  Steve watched as relief flooded Bucky’s face.  

“Thanks.”  He looked at the prescription before shoving it in his pocket and letting out a yawn.  “And sorry, for what I said earlier about Miranda.  She won’t be able to tarnish your reputation.”  

“I am aware. The most salacious detail I gave her is already public knowledge.”  Steve rose.  “I only regret my own error in judgment.  Now get some sleep.”  

Bucky nodded as they walked to the door.  Steve kept his calm as he let the FBI Agent out.  

Then he walked back to the table and picked up the file.  He set out the photos of the four crime scenes Bucky wanted to tie to the Butcher.  

“Very clever Agent Barnes.”  All of them were done by Steve.  In a way seeing the photos was like revisiting an old friend.  

Corenzo was far from Steve’s first kill though.  He had watched the man use a racial slur and a racist imitation at a dry cleaner.  Another rude person the world did not need.  

Steve flashed back to Miranda’s comment about the human race being lucky to have him.  She was right of course, on more levels than she realized.  He was purging the world of the disgusting people who did not belong.  

After Agent Barnes’ proclamation Miranda Balfour’s name had landed on that list.

~~

Steve was a patient man.  He sometimes marked his victims for years before they met their demise.  

When he got home, to what his visitor’s refered to as architectural magic, he went straight for the kitchen.  It was on the level of any executive chef’s dream.  

He would cook tonight.  Channel his anger over the reporter, but not before adding her name to his list.

He went to the recipe drawer.  It looked more like a filing cabinet, filled with Rolodexes of index cards with carefully printed ingredients and instructions.  He had order them online since the entire world had gone digital.

On the rare occasion he had a guest they poked at his old fashioned nature.  He remembered the first time he had Bucky over for dinner.

“You live in such a modern house, and appear a very modern man, but that recipe system reminds me of my grandmother.”  Bucky laughed as he sipped his wine.

“And I bet your grandmother’s cooking was far superior to your own.”  Steve raised as eyebrow as Bucky frowned.

The memory vanished as Steve pulled out the Rolodex he wanted.  This one did not have recipes, it was for its original purpose, filled with business card collected over the years.  

He grabbed one at random.  Donna Chung.  He closed his eyes and remembered her behavior,  the way she was screaming at her child in the grocery store.  The child could have been no more than three and was crying over not being able to drop a quarter in a donation box.  

“You get nothing from that.  Here I’ll buy you a candy bar instead.”  

Steve followed her home that night.  Googled the address and the next day walked into her real estate office.  He picked up a business card and dropped her in his Rolodex.  That was almost eighteen months ago.  

She was not a candidate for a butcher murder.  Besides, the day left Steve uninspired.  But still he set her card to the side.  

He picked up an empty one and wrote the name Miranda Balfour, along with the phony one she had given him and the contact e-mail.  Then he closed up the Rolodex and put it back in its place.  

Steve poured a glass of wine and walked over to his computer.  He fired up the laptop.  

Grabbing a remote he turned on the fireplace and some music as he sat on his overly plush blue sofa.  Calm colors was what his interior designer recommended.   He was grateful for that advice.  She was someone who brought beauty to the world.  

As soon as Steve typed Miranda Balfour into the search her blog popped up first thing.  The title was “Miranda’s Macabre Museum”.  

Steve rolled his eyes as he went to the first post.  It was from two days ago.  

Murder

Victim:  Lawrence Engle

Death:  Stab wounds

Date:  April 12th, 1985

Location:  Mobile, Alabama

What followed was a summary of the facts.  Steve was expecting more of a tattle-tale type scenario.  But he did not see anything salacious.  If anything it was very matter-of-fact with little insight.  

At the end there were links to photos with appropriate warnings and links to sources.

Then there was a section titled editorial.  

“Here we go.”  Steve readied to read the sordid opinion.

The motive in this murder was money.  While the law, for the most part, disregards the motive as important to the trial my long time readers know I disagree.  Until we change as a society and value human life over finances we will be doomed to see unnecessary killings as this continue to happen.  That does not mean the killer should be pardoned for his crime because society as a whole is at fault.  On the contrary.  He is part of the problem and should be punished.  

Sentence:  Death by lethal injection.

“Interesting.”  Steve found his mind going back to his initial opinion of Miranda or whatever her name was.

He noticed a search option on her blog and typed in his name.  Several posts on Canary victims came up, but he found he was only mentioned in the source articles or the summary.  

He did the same for Agent Barnes and saw the results light up.  He scrolled the posts for the highlighted name and came across a murder from three years ago.  

Editorial:   The lead Agent on this case has shown textbook narcissism.  His attempt to relate to the killer to solve the crime failed here, because the murder was not about him, but he found a way to make it so.  The last victim’s death would have been preventable if Agent Barnes listened to anyone but himself.

“That explains Bucky’s dislike.”  Steve shut the laptop and pinched his eyes shut.

When he googled the first name, multiple stories came up that were as she said human interest pieces.  Did she lie just to get the interview?  Pose as the other woman?  

Lie.  What difference did it make?  She was a liar and had earned a spot in his Rolodex.  

This one felt personal though.  In a way Steve did not enjoy.  She made him feel...comfortable.  Or made him feel something.  The way her eyes were so inquisitive and she seemed to hang on every work with genuine interest.  When in fact he was intentionally trying to bore her.  

That would not stand.  This woman would not sit in the Rolodex for years.  Her time would be shorter.  Steve stood up from the couch and went back to the kitchen.  He picked up Donna Chung’s card and returned it with the other, instead setting the card he’d just drafted on the counter.  

He would start tomorrow.

~~

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading!  I really appreciate every like/comment/reblog!  I haven’t done a series in a long time so I am excited!  And if you didn’t figure it out this is....

Hannibal AU :). 

[gothhisoka]

𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 18- 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Ships: Chrollo x Reader, Leorio x Kurapika, Hisoka x Illumi

Genre: romance, dark academia, royalcore, university AU

Word count: 3k

Background: This is from my (gothhisoka) fanfic on Wattpad and AO3 called Hunter University. It is Chrollo x OC, but I decided to change it around for Tumblr. Both Chrollo and y/n are hiding things from each other but are both feeling the same attraction. A masquerade ball is held at your university. You don’t know if he even wants to dance with you, but apparently he does. He wants to do even more than that.

Tags: Fluff, first kiss, sfw

The masquerade hall was astounding. The high stone walls were adorned with scarlet silk banners. Golden fabric streamers hung from every banister of the second-level balconies. As in the entrance, symbols of cherubs and mythical creatures were splashed across the ceiling in a dizzying array. The light was dim, for all the chandeliers were set low in the traditional style of Venetian masquerades. Candelabras were scattered on every table and upon every wall.

Symphonic music was emanating from the open stage in the front of the room. A live orchestra was playing a gentle concerto as the students poured in. It was only 7:10, so not many were on the floor. The true dancing would start in another couple of minutes.

It was a scene out of a fairytale. The hundreds of breathtakingly dressed students only added to the general fervor of it all.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Chrollo said as he looked towards you. It was unclear whether he was talking about the room or how you looked tonight. Your bright eyes shone out underneath a bronze mask, which was catching the candlelight within its shiny material.

Still entranced, you were led by Chrollo to the table they had reserved. The troupe followed behind, engrossed in their conversation while you both remained in your own little world. He put his hand on the small of your back, simply aching to touch you once again. The feeling was mutual.

On the table, there were glasses already set up accompanied by a lavish bouquet of flowers. Uvogin pulled out a couple of bottles of champagne he clearly swiped from the restaurant. Everyone dropped off their bags at the table.

It appeared as if not all of the troupe members would be dancing. Franklin was already seated with his arms crossed. You looked at him questioningly, after which he said, "I have to guard the stuff." It was clear by his tone that he actually meant "I don't like to dance."

You smiled placidly and nodded in understanding. He was an unusual sort of guy. She was beginning to like him already. In fact, the whole Phantom Troupe was becoming gradually more likable as the night progressed.

You looked for Kurapika to bid him one last warning before he got whisked away by Leorio. By the time she spotted him, it was already too late.

You watched as Kurapika scratched at the back of his head, suddenly unaware of what to do with his arms. He was apparently awestruck by his dance partner's appearance.

The two made their shy greetings. Kurapika reached for his hand as any chivalrous partner would do. 

Soon a waltz commenced, floating around the room. A subtle violin and cello duet beckoned people out onto the floor.

You watched as Kurapika led Leorio out, their suit jackets glimmering synchronously as the lights passed. They took position still near their group's table, but far enough to have room to dance.

The wide floor soon filled with numerous other couples. Hisoka led Illumi out alongside Uvogin and Nobunaga. Hisoka and Illumi were practically professional dancers from the very start, moving to an elaborate step that drew the attention of all the students. People nearly cleared the floor to make room for them. This annoyed Illumi to no end, while Hisoka displayed a wild grin. They twirled, dipped, and did intricate step sequences, unquestionably rehearsed to perfection.

The rest were not as remarkably polished. Still, they appeared to be equally enjoying themselves.

Leorio and Kurapika laughed as one of them accidentally stepped upon the other toes or missed a movement. While they lacked coordination, they surely didn't lack chemistry. This was a good sign.

You could see their mouths moving but the music drowned out their voices. Kurapika attempted to guide Leorio in the basic box step, turning him once in a while. 

Most ignored the cameramen or simply didn't notice them lurking in hidden spots. You had some otherworldly feeling that sensed them under the shadows in the balconies. 

"Are you done watching?" Chrollo asked, holding his hand out to you just as Kurapika had done with Leorio.

You hadn't realized you were still staring out towards the masked partners on the floor. The ball was entirely overwhelming; the sound, the rapid movements, and the room itself were causing your head to spin.

Nonetheless, you snapped out of it and processed what Chrollo had just said. You just got offered a dance. A dance with him. 

You knew his indicative gestures were leading somewhere. That somewhere was here, into his arms. 

In front of hundreds of students, not to mention journalists itching to get a photo of the boy who was so famous. Not to mention his dance partner, who was no more than a low-level hunter wannabe.

Now's not the time to get nervous. This is what you wanted. Isn't it?

You stared down at his hand as if to ask "for me?"

You peered up to see the most gentle face slowly becoming riddled with doubt.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

Is it? 

Now that you are actually here, in the position that used to be visible only in your imagination, you feel immense pressure.

In these weeks past, you didn't even question what you were getting herself into. To be fair, you weren’t sure what this night would be, exactly. Would you be met with a closed-off boy whose coldness warded you away or the courteous man who would rather teach you nen lessons than see you fail?

Is it even safe to get this close?

Chrollo's personality had shifted in the span of the night. It became full of genuine interest rather than his usual impassive curiosity. He, as a person, was becoming all the more real.

Real was dangerous.

This stream of consciousness only took a second. It took one look into Chrollo's eyes to know what your answer would be.

"This is what I want."

It was the first step. No, rather it was your first leap off a skyscraper.

You were falling. Hard.

His grip was delicate, holding your hand as if it was made of glass. Chrollo felt strange, being so unsure. He was normally an expert at figuring out people– what they felt and why they acted the way they did. 

You, on the other hand, were a labyrinth. He had always been so hesitant for this reason. Chrollo needed to be able to figure out a person in order to get close to them. With you, there was something buried deeper than you let on. It was virtually impossible to uncover. You put up almost as good of a front as Chrollo.

Or perhaps it was Chrollo's own mind that was muddied at the thought of you. His intentions versus yours, his morals versus yours. It all began to matter very much. What would he think in the end, after he got out of your what he so desired?

Nevermind that now. For Chrollo was feeling a mutual enthusiasm that you were plainly exhibiting. He led you out to the floor.

The Phantom Troupe watched with apprehension. They weren't used to their boss being so amiable. He couldn't be swayed by a simple person, and yet here he was.

"Can you dance?" Chrollo turned to you, putting an arm upon your shoulder. You already almost melted under the single touch.

You had reached the middle of the floor, far from the troupe. Was he that confident in his own dancing? The center could be viewed from all sides and balconies. You were sure to stand out.

"Not well," you said candidly.

Chrollo began a light step, swaying from side to side. This newfound tenderness was surprising. He was treating you as if you were a queen. And you couldn't get enough of it.

Wanting to grasp for more of this certain side of him, you said, "I can do more than this."

"As you wish," Chrollo said with a gracious smile.

He immediately followed a more complicated step, falling in line with the other couples on the floor. You pretended to ignore their whispers.

Just as you thought. He is an incredible dancer.

Every time you struggled to keep up he would adjust his pace. You worked like hands on a clock, moving as if set to one another's rhythm. The music now was a quicker allegro beat.

Your attire fanned out as you turned: your right hand in his, your arm on his shoulder. 

Now it was the students' turn to stare at Chrollo and you. It was unclear if it was because they recognized the boy under the mask, or they were observing the electrifying chemistry.

You couldn't help but beam as you sailed across the floor. Chrollo did not break eye contact and you did your best to do the same. 

A feeling overcame you as you continued to hold his hand in yours. It couldn't be described as fireworks or sparks, as often depicted by the romance novels she's read. It was more of an awakening.

Despite the weather turning cold, you felt as if it was spring. A revival. Things were blossoming, the rain washed away the grey of winter.

He was your spring.

It was odd. For Chrollo could be explained more effectively as ominous and intimidating, unlike a bright spring day. He should've been cold stone walls, closed doors, secret passageways.

But no, he was warmth itself.

If only you would turn away for a second you would notice a coldness settle that hadn't been there before. 

The way he looked tonight in his dazzling suit and mask, the way he said all those uncharacteristically gracious words: these were the things you would have etched in your memory for a very, very long time. Now, without Chrollo it would feel as if something were missing.

You would not realize this yet, as you were still in a state of pure elation. It was only the beginning.

But this was the connection you felt. Having it defined opened up a world of possibilities. 

Who would've known, it all came into fruition at a masquerade ball.

                                          ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━

After a couple more songs, you left the floor. Sweat prickled at your brow. You were left panting after a rapid final dance.

Several students couldn't help but clap. You hadn't even done a thing. You were sure it was Chrollo's dancing that gained all the attention.

"You're better than I expected," you said.

Chrollo brushed back his hair which had fallen in his face with all the movement.  "I would say the same to you, y/n." He smiled, sizing your up.

You didn't dispute his return of the compliment. He was right. 

At the group table, Kurapika and Leorio were sitting drinking glass after glass of the bootlegged champagne. It would've been inappropriate to bring alcohol to such a prestigious event if many other tables weren't doing the same. Apparently, the students here did know how to have a good time.

Chrollo went to talk to Franklin as you sat next to Leorio and Kurapika.

"You both were amazing!" Leorio exclaimed as you approached. 

You grinned, "Where have you two been?"

"We were on the floor too, didn't you see us?"

You tried to laugh it off, "No... I was a little distracted." 

To be fair, you didn't notice the cameras, the students, or the other dancers either. 

"Sooo are you two going back out?" Leorio asked, leaning on his hand. His words slurred slightly.

You looked over your shoulder at Chrollo. He looked serious as he talked to Franklin. "I'm not sure. Are you two?"

"Yes, we plan on trying the group dance. Just like we practiced," Kurapika said, giving you a knowing look.

The synchronized dance was the signature of the ball. All those who learned it were allowed to participate. It was the last dance, so they would still be sitting for a while. The time was now around 9:00 and the hall would be closed by 12:00 a.m.

Before they could converse any further, Chrollo gently put a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have something to show you, y/n."

He held his hand out again. This time you took it with no hesitation. 

"Ok," you leaped up, flattening out your dress.

You were all too willing to go wherever Chrollo pleased. There wasn't even a point where she needed to remind herself who this man was. His charm had influenced you too far already. There was no going back.

Kurapika gave you a warning look. You threw him back a smile. This did nothing to reassure him.

Chrollo interlaced his fingers slowly with yours, hesitating as you crossed under the balconies. You could've dissolved right then and there. It only further confirmed his gentlemanly attitude and respect towards you.

You couldn't even look at him. You felt your face growing hotter by the second. Thank god for a mask and several layers of foundation.

To your surprise, you were led far from the dance floor. You ended up at a small door in a quiet corner of the ballroom. The spot was underneath the alcoves and not a soul was in sight. Moonlight poured in from the tiny stained-glass windows.

"It's through here," Chrollo said, his voice barely audible over the orchestral music.

"Do I get to know where you're taking me?" You stopped in your tracks. You were thinking of what Kurapika would say. Even though you would follow him at the drop of a coin, you weren’t that stupid. He is a man, before all else. 

Something flashed in Chrollo's eyes. Was he hurt by your sudden distrust? 

"I'll show you. I promise you'll like it," Chrollo replied, creaking open the door.

There was nothing at first, only darkness. But stepping through the door bestowed an even more enchanting sight than the ballroom.

You gasped, "I didn't realize there was a courtyard out here."

Chrollo looked at you as if he were seeing you the first time tonight again. The profile of your face was highlighted by the moonlight. your jawline was your only feature that stood out, the rest of your was soft under the haze of darkness. The surrounding blue contrasted against your fading red lipstick. your hair had grown significantly more disheveled but it still looked utterly smooth. If Chrollo was bolder he would've run his hand through it and took you by your waist and done things he surely would regret for initiating too soon... he wanted to savor the moment when it inevitably came.

He smiled, despite himself. Neither of you noticed the cold, still warmed from dancing only moments ago. Chrollo watched as your eyes soaked in the scene before you.

It seemed as if the bushes and trees saved their last breaths for this space alone. Fall leaves hung over a gravel path. Ivy snaked up the surrounding structures, all encapsulating the tiny yard. A small table sat in the center of the path upon which a lantern was placed. He had come prepared.

The whole night: he had anticipated it all. He had realized your love, and, at this moment, you realized his. What he had yet to figure out was the depth of those feelings or where they came from. Or, most importantly, what was tucked underneath those feelings. That was what tonight was for.

The orchestra still echoed faintly through the ancient walls.

"Shall we dance? I never did like dancing in front of a crowd,"

You redirected your eyes to an equally beautiful scene. You were still in reverence. It was obvious now that he had planned it all.

Your heart swelled like an ocean wave, but all you could manage to get out was, "Are we supposed to be here?"

Chrollo looked at you dangerously, "To remind you, I'm not supposed to be anywhere." 

Before you could say another word, Chrollo stepped forward and lifted both his and your own mask off of your faces. 

"There."

Chrollo's undivided visage was in view now. The curve of his nose and tops of his cheekbones caught the light of the moon. His downcast eyelashes were full, framing his silver eyes.

As for Chrollos view, he simply needed to see your whole face to be sure that what you felt was really true. When he saw the arching of your lips and widened eyes, he knew it was.

He grasped your hand in preparation to waltz, deliberately intertwining his hand with yours. 

Timed perfectly, the music slowed. It was a couples' number. Inevitably, this had also somehow been planned by Chrollo.

This dancing was quite different than before. It was full of significance.

The song picked up with a violin. Chrollo pulled you close, your bodies almost touching. Your heat radiated off of one another. You felt almost giddy with attraction. What you wanted to do to him was far past your confidence, but you wanted it all the same.

His eyes didn't leave yours. A slight smile persisted on his lips. He hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. And the last time he felt something like this, it wasn't nearly as genuine.

You swayed from side to side with only the moonlight and distant concerto guiding your steps. You made a move to rest your head on his shoulder. It was so that you could not look into his eyes as you spoke your next words. You snaked your arms behind his neck while he placed his around your hips. It felt good to be so close. You felt secure in his arms.

You really hoped this was going where she thought it was. But you needed to be certain.

"I want to know if this is true," you whispered, breaking the tranquil silence. Your breath was hot against his neck. It drove him absolutely mad. 

Unknowingly, you had echoed back the words Chrollo had been retracing in his head throughout the night. Is this true?

He feigned ignorance of the meaning behind your statement. "What's true?" Chrollo whispered back.

"Is all this premeditation for something else? Another scheme?"

Chrollo suddenly turned serious, "I will never do that to you again. This is for real."

You pulled back to look into his eyes, "But what is this?" 

Your face was lined with apprehension. After all that happened tonight, it still wasn't clear. Chrollo needed to change that.

He looked down at you, attempting to convey what you meant to him in his eyes. They overflowed with tenderness, admiration, and worship, even. 

You hadn't realized that he had these emotions in him. Now you understood. It was all because they were reserved for you.

His movement was swift. He lowered his face to yours, soaking in your divine scent. You didn't anticipate what was about to happen until his lips delicately brushed against your own, asking for an invitation. He clearly didn't need one, for your body responded immediately. Your hand trailed up to the side of his face. Chollo pulled your hips towards him. Your eyes fluttered shut.

And you kissed. 

It was intoxicating.

The taste of him nearly silenced your thoughts. It was a tang of wine and sweetness. You tried to let the feeling seep into your bones, agonizing over its ephemeral nature. 

Your surroundings dissolved into the inky night. You focused on how soft his mouth felt, how his hands upon your hips made you want to yield to all he could offer, and, in turn, all you could ever desire.

Seconds later, you unwillingly pulled apart. Your whole body tingled, edging for more. Both of your heartbeats were fluttering a rapid cadence. Remaining there for a moment– foreheads touching, breath tickling one another lips– you savored each other's presence. 

Your kiss was unlike anything either of you had experienced before. It was born out of lust but resulted in something deeper. Floating to the surface was an unbound attraction sparked by one mouth on another.

You both were left smiling with flushed cheeks. Goosebumps prickled on your arms.

"I hope that made it clear," Chrollo said pulling away at last.

The warmth disappeared and you were left in a state of longing. You could still feel the touch of his lips upon yours, a ghost of his sensitive movements.

You smiled lightly at him, "It did."

Chrollo held out an arm for you. "We best be getting back now."

You were frozen in place, coming to your senses. Holy shit.

The enormity of what that kiss meant came crashing down upon you. What would this mean moving forward? Everything had seemed so temporary with Chrollo, coming in and out of your life as he did in the past month. Was this temporary as well?

There was no time to dwell upon the future of their relationship. Although the promise of privacy in the courtyard tempted you to stay, there was still one more number to dance. 

                                      ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 21: Khezu, the Blank Stare

When I reviewed Basarios, I made a joke about how the devs likely gave it human teeth over sharp teeth because the latter might not give children nightmares, but I don’t actually think that the devs ever intended Basarios to be more terrifying than any other monster in the game. This monster, however, is literally the stuff of nightmares, and I’m not misusing “literally” here. This may be the longest review I’ve written yet, so buckle up. Time to get spooky with Khezu!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: I think there’s been a mistake here; last I checked, Capcom wasn’t making Silent Hill games. Seriously, this thing would fit right into that series, and not just ‘cause its phallic neck lends itself well to metaphors. The pale, veiny skin, the leech-like mouth, the complete lack of eyes...Khezu’s unlike any other monster in the series because it’s the only monster that’s meant to be horrifying to look at. It’s got flabby, tattered wings and gecko-like feet, but its main characteristic (other than the head) is its tail, the tip of which can open up into a suction cup that allows Khezu to stick to ceilings.

Obviously, Khezu’s an abomination that came from a really dark place in someone’s mind, but that’s just it: Khezu is a monster that appeared in an MH developer’s nightmare either before or during the production of the first Monster Hunter game, and said developer (I don’t actually remember who) decided to put it in the game. I learned of this from the Twitch streams of a streamer called DuncanCan’tDie, who’s a huge MH fan that’s on great terms with Capcom. Unfortunately, I can’t find any other sources for this claim, but I don’t think he’s lying for a few reasons; firstly, like I said, he’s on great terms with Capcom. He’s friends with some people who work there, and he even has a tattoo designed by someone on the MH team he called “Kaname-san” (who didn’t actually give him the tattoo, but drew the design that a tattoo artist used) and the only person who could go by that name is Kaname Fujioka, the man who literally directed several MH games, including the first one, and who was the art director for Monster Hunter World. So yeah. Duncan and Capcom get along great, and if he was spreading false rumors, they’d probably know about it.

The second reason I believe Duncan about Khezu’s origin is that someone once came into one of his streams (and I was there at the time) and started spouting “lore” about two monsters that looked like they could be related, but actually weren’t. Duncan flat out told this person that what they were claiming wasn’t mentioned anywhere and asked for sources...which the loregiver did not provide. In fact, after Duncan started getting on their case, I don’t think they said a word for the rest of the stream. Duncan believes that this person was just making stuff up to sound like they knew a lot about MH and weren’t aware that he was an MH expert, and I doubt that someone who would call someone out on that would do the same thing, especially if he had a reputation to uphold.

I apologize if I spent a lot of time talking about that, but I didn’t want people getting on my case because they couldn’t find anything to support my claims. But in conclusion, I believe that Khezu truly was born of a nightmare, and that’s awesome. It makes the Silent Hill comparison even more fitting since the enemies in those games are basically projections of the protagonists’ psyches. Disturbing enemies are much more effective if they scare(d) the people who created them, and Khezu is certainly disturbing. Because of that, as well as its ominous origin, I’m giving it a 9/10.

Behavior: Khezu mostly inhabit caves, jungles, and swamps due to the need for their skin to be moisturized, though they usually only leave caves to hunt, which they don’t have to do very often due to the plentiful fat beneath their skin, which also keeps them warm. Their favorite hunting strategy is to ambush their prey from a location usually concealed by darkness, which is made easier by their extendable necks. However, their reliance on darkness, as well as their preference to dwell in caves, has made them completely blind and reliant on their other senses; despite not having visible nostrils or ears, Khezu have great hearing and a very good sense of smell. Back to hunting, while they need to subdue larger prey, smaller ones, like Kelbi, are slowly swallowed whole...which is apparently something you can actually witness in the games, according to TV Tropes (I normally stick to the wiki and what I already know for resources, but I went to the “Monster Hunter / Nightmare Fuel” page while searching for another source for Khezu’s origin as a nightmare). As if this thing needed to be more disturbing, it doesn’t always kill its prey before it tries to swallow it, so the Kelbi you can see it eat is constantly struggling as the Khezu swallows it bottom-first. That’s...that’s messed up. But it gets worse.

Practically every monster in this series isn’t any more intelligent than what we consider a normal animal to be. Aside from Lynians, which are people, the smartest monster I’ve talked about is the Velociprey, which might not be as smart as, say, an irl crow, which is very intelligent by the standards of nonhuman animals. What I’m getting at here is that most of the monsters in this series don’t really take any sadistic pleasure in killing and eating prey; they just do it to survive. But Khezu is different. In several MH games, including Rise, the first time you go on a quest to kill a specific monster, the gameplay is preceded by a cutscene that shows off how powerful or intimidating that monster is (and in Rise’s case, you also get a poem). Here’s Khezu’s intro, and I want you to pay attention to what Khezu does from 0:24-0:30:

That’s right: this thing “looked” right at the monster it was going to eat, and smiled. That isn’t just me anthropomorphizing it, either; I’ve seen what Khezu looks like outside of that cutscene, and even with its mouth closed it has a neutral expression, so it smiling actually means something, and considering the context, it’s obvious what the devs wanted us to take from it: Khezu likes killing. It enjoyed the prospect of swallowing that monster whole while it was still alive and struggling, which means that this is the first monster I’ve talked about that we can definitively say is evil rather than just an animal. Rather fitting for a living nightmare, I would say. And if you thought all that was disturbing, I have some...unfortunate news. I hope you aren’t eating anything right now, ‘cause this next part is just gross.

Y’know how some wasps lay their eggs inside other bugs so the eggs have incubation they can eat when they hatch? Well, uh...Khezu do that, too. And they’re hermaphrodites that, from what I can gather, don’t need to mate, so any adult Khezu is capable of injecting another monster with its “whelps” (not saying that Khezu are always “pregnant,” just saying that any of them can be). And you know the really crazy part? After everything I said about Khezu, there are still people in the MH world that tame them and keep them as pets. Why would you want to have a slimy, flabby, sadistic, parasitoid, 14-to-40-foot abomination as a pet!? God, people are so freaking weird.

EDIT (05/07/2021): My older brother reminded me that I forgot about one of the odder aspects of Khezu; when you enter a fight with a Main Monster, its battle theme plays (don’t know if every monster has a unique theme, but several do, to my knowledge), but Khezu has no theme to speak of. I don’t know if this is true in every game, or even if it was intentional at first, but it’s still both funny and eerie at the same time. There’s no background music until you get in a fight, so if you somehow tick off a Khezu without seeing it, then it can sneak up on you. “But Zaph, the moment a monster enters ‘fight mode,’ it roars! So the Khezu will give away its position!” See, you’d be right about that if it wasn’t for the fact that, according to TV Tropes at least, Khezu’s roar sounds just like wind--howling wind, yes, but wind all the same. I don’t know if there’s any howling wind SFX in the areas where Khezu live, so for all I know you’ll still be able to identify it in a hurry, but just imagine what that’s like in-universe! Imagine that you’re walking around in the Frost Islands or something and hear a chilling wind from out of nowhere. Unless you’re an experienced hunter, you’d likely have no idea if that was a Khezu or not, so you wouldn’t know if it’s too late to run or not, or even if you should run at all. Going back out of universe, the details I just described are very nice touches to a monster that was already horrifying in behavior, so I’m bumping the score here up from the 7 I initially gave it to 8/10.

Abilities: All of the “Flying Wyverns” I’ve talked about so far have had a lot of trouble with the whole “flying” part, and Khezu are no exception; they’re better at it than Diablos and Gravios, but they still need to flap really frantically to stay in the air. They’re great at jumping, though, and their gecko-like feet allow them to scale walls and stick to ceilings, something that their tails also allow them to do. Khezu are Thunder-element monsters capable of discharging electricity in a manner of ways, including shooting balls of it from their mouths and emitting it all around their bodies. Since Khezu like to spend time around water, their attacks are even more dangerous, as everything near them will likely be wet and therefore more conductive. This also applies to Khezu themselves, which may be why they stick their tails onto the ground before discharging electricity; they ground themselves so that they don’t shock themselves. Finally, Khezu saliva is very dangerous; we don’t know if it’s electric or acidic, but anything that gives off smoke when it touches something probably isn’t good for your health, which is why owning a pet Khezu is so dangerous; their drool can literally kill you. 7/10.

Equipment: Most Khezu weapons are as interesting as you’d expect them to be, considering the monster they’re made from. Most of them have a horror aesthetic, like this Great Sword called the Khezu Shock Sword:

I just noticed that the skin is actually stretched over the blade, rather than being what the blade’s attached to. Gross, but I never expected Khezu weapons to look pretty. There are also weapons which emphasize the monster’s electric aspect, like this Gunlance called the Full Voltage:

It still has Silent Hill vibes due to its “rusty hospital” aesthetic, and looking at it long enough reveals little details it inherited from Khezu. Speaking of hospitals, there are a couple of weapons based off of syringes, such as the Khezu Syringe, which is a Light Bowgun, and a Lance from MHFG that’s literally a giant hypodermic needle, but I didn’t want to show those off in case they triggered anyone with needle phobia. The last weapon I’m gonna show will be very familiar to those of us who’ve played the Rise demo a lot: the Insect Glaive known as the Bolt Chamber!

I like the green tube running from the sac between the blade and the shaft of the glaive; according to the Bolt Chamber’s in-game description, it uses that “pulsating device” to steal energy from its targets. If you mentioned that to me before I grabbed its image for this review, I probably would have asked how it did that. If you then pointed out the mouth at the glaive’s end, I would have thanked you for cursing me with the knowledge of its existence. Seriously, I’ve used this thing probably more than 20 times, and until I saw this render, I never noticed that. As for the armor, here’s the Blademaster Khezu Armor from MHGU:

The male armor here is almost identical to the one from Rise--which sadly doesn’t have any pictures on the wiki yet--and yes, it does look like the main character from Assassin’s Creed. The female armor, on the other hand, looks almost like a nurse’s outfit, especially with that metal thing on the woman’s head with the cross. The more I look at this equipment, the more I feel like they wanted people to think of Silent Hill, and if so, that’s pretty cool. I’ve got another armor set to show you; the Gunner version of the Khezu R Armor from MHGU:

Jesus, is this an armor set or a medical emergency? I can’t imagine bandages are very effective at protecting your body from physical damage, but thankfully it looks like most of them are just covering actual armor...meaning that the people who designed this stuff in-universe wanted the people wearing it to look like they were in an accident. Not sure I get why, but I’m not here to--actually, I am here to judge, so never mind; it’s gross. Also the female set has Khezu mouths as arm coverings, which is someone’s fetish, I’m sure. The equipment as a whole is macabrely interesting (TIL that macabrely is a real word) and calls to mind a fascinating horror game franchise, so 8/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: I figured that Khezu was gonna be interesting, but I didn’t know how far the devs would take the horror theming. Everything about this monster is creepy; it looks disturbing, it acts even worse, and its equipment makes me feel like I need a tetanus shot just from looking at it. But that’s not at all a bad thing...unless you’re really squeamish, in which case you were likely cringing this whole review. I’d apologize, but you made the choice to stick through ‘till the end. 8/10.

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [3/-]

summary: everything has started to whirlwind around Y/N as she realizes what predicament she’s in, but is consoled by her captor.. her nameless captor..

warnings: smut & slight fluff :/

a/n: hey, this is part THREE of this little series! if you haven’t, check out part one and two before reading this, or you might be a little confused :) enjoy!

"Don't you make one fucking sound.."

To his hoarse words, your teeth instantly clamped shut around your bottom lip and you closed your eyes in anticipation. You expected to be ruthlessly grabbed and shoved into by his cock, but the slowness of your panties being pulled down your legs and the ever so soft touches of his long fingers against your inner thighs brought you a surprise. And suddenly, the world began spinning around you the moment you felt his thick, and warm tongue glide against your soaked folds. The pit of your stomach shuttered in the overwhelming pressure he had against your extremely sensitive nub, something you have been day-dreaming about ever since you first saw him.

He was slow— almost passionate with the way he moved his pleasureful tongue around your pussy, slurping your arousal like it was a glass of ice water on a hot day. Your hips slowly rolled against his mouth, unintentionally, and your head fell back against the soft mattress beneath you. Your hot breaths filled the absence of sound, as well as his lapping and frustrated groans from underneath you. It seemed purely magical when he creeped one of his thumbs to your bundle of nerves, swiftly rubbing it in small circles. It made your breath become caught within your throat and had your own fingers running through his heavenly soft hair. The way his gruff groans and grunts vibrated through your core and up your spine made it excruciatingly difficult to keep your sounds to yourself.

You had had it when his only free hand crept up through your gown and wrapped itself around your breast, caressing the tenderness and softness. When your hips began to buck a bit more violently and the small, quick intakes of breaths that had queued your soon dispatching, he stopped.

He lifted his head from you and licked his lips, flashing a grin your way. "Such a pretty girl, already fucked out and you've barely been touched." He chuckles as he turns back to his little pile of clothes on the floor, snatching them and leaving the room in a hurry.

You were infuriated.

So much so, that you led your own little hand down there and began to rub at yourself, trying to finish off whatever he had started before he could notice anything. You just circled your clit quickly until your high came, and went, before slipping into your comforting bedding, yet again regretting your day's decisions and falling into a deep and useless slumber.

-

When you first wake, you quickly notice the weakness between your legs, like it was missing something, but soon after you feel the stretching of your esophagus. And then you're hit with the reoccurrence of the night before. Again, you had let this unknown man take full control of you and liked it.

How disgusting were you? To enjoy something superbly disturbing? What would your mother think?

You shook your head to your own thoughts, sitting up against the pillows and reaching for the newly placed water bottle on the nightstand. You unscrewed the cap and chugged the liquid until there was no more to be gained from it. It at least soothes the aching you felt in your throat, but nothing could stunt the aching and needing pains that your pussy was currently throbbing with.

You didn't feel an ounce of drowsiness at the beginning of the day, like you had the days prior. You felt fully regenerated and well awake. Maybe now you'd be in touch with your morals and mature senses. It has become terribly boring in this room, staring at the walls and ceiling for what seems like hours doesn't help the fact. You would've gotten up and explored your confinement space, but you were terrified he'd make an appearance the moment you step on the ground.

You actually haven't seen him at all today.

You didn't really have a source of time, but by the way the sun was sat in the sky, you had gone a whole entire day without a thing to eat or drink, which angered you. He should at least have enough courtesy to provide meals for your famished self if he's gonna keep you hidden in this place for so long. But then again, you were forcefully kidnapped from a bench only days ago, and could be kept in much worst conditions than you are now. With that simple thought, a tear had formed, watering and blurring your eyesight. Without any consent from your own self, tear after tear began to trail down your frozen cheeks, staining them a darker red. You didn’t even realize you were crying until an explosion of hiccups began to sound from your mouth and send you into a sobbing mess. Your throat began to burn as well as your eyes and your stomach began to lurch within its self, while your head became pained with all the activity that’s happening. You grab one of the pillows laying behind you and squeeze it against you roughly, trying to soothe the discomfort and agony of your new coming realizations. The flow of your tears and whimpers only strengthened, like your body was combusting with the amount of held back frustration you had. The streams of tears began to pool at the bottom of your chin and roll down your neck in thick waves.

You weren’t too sure why you were crying, but it made you feel a little better.

Your sobbing hadn’t come to a stop when the door soundlessly opened and closed. You didn’t even hear him enter, let alone sit beside you. When his large and warm arms wrapped around your small, shuttering frame, you helplessly fell into them. You let go of the pillow and snuck your arms around his muscular torso, squeezing him tighter than you did the pillow as you uncontrollably cry in the crook of his neck. “Why? Why’d you trap me here?” You hardly whispered, but his heart sank deep in his chest the moment you acknowledged him.

He didn’t have an answer. He just swayed the two of you back and forth, easing you into a peaceful sleep that you truly didn’t want, or need. You weren’t awakened when he had easily lifted you up, and carried you away from your enclosed space, leading the two of you down the hallway until he was at the threshold of his own door. He didn’t need to think twice before quietly opening it and settling you on his much more comfortable bed, leaving the lights off and classical music on in the background. He understood your saddened questioning, but he just couldn’t do anything about it quite yet..

-

You awoke for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a place you didn’t recognize. Instead of the boring grey walls and the one gold-trimmed painting, you were surrounded by pristine white walls with a few different posters of musicians you didn’t really know, except Tame Impala. Your heart almost skipped a beat as your eyes scanned the poster that had tour dates and the songs from the 2015 Currents album.

What a coincidence?

You drew your eyes away from it and settled them on the man sitting in the chair in the corner. Again, your heart leaped out of your chest from slight terror. You hadn’t noticed him before, but he seemed harmlessly asleep. Though his presence slightly angered you, he really did look peaceful and almost cute, snoozing away in the little recliner. A smart person would’ve ran to the door and exited the house as quick as possible and make it to freedom, but your head really wasn’t in the right place for the moment. You just sat there, silently interrogating the nameless man snoring in the corner.

He hasn’t been anything but nice to you, except for the lack of food and water. You faintly remember him saying something about knowing you, but everything’s truly a fog and you can’t tell whether anything is a dream or real life, since you’ve been sleeping entirely too much. Hell, you can’t even recall how you were placed in this room, or why.

But you liked it a lot better than the original room you were in. It’s not freezing cold in this bedroom, it’s comfortably warm and soothing with some sort of autumn smelling candle. Even the few little Halloween decorations around the room, which are slightly early, made this place feel a lot more homely than it should. Because honestly, you shouldn’t be “enjoying” being kidnapped/stolen by some nameless hot guy.

Speaking of, what the hell is his name?

Suddenly, the so-called nameless man begins to shift in his seat, his eyes slowly opening and widening as they adjust to the small light surrounding him. The only light within the room was the window, which displayed the day’s dark overcast from the soon-coming rain. Once he’s familiar with his own room, his eyes land on yours, a sheepish smile covering his lips compared to your stern one. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He firstly says before stretching his arms above his head and letting in a deep yawn.

“Cut the shit, sweetheart. I want to know why I’m here and when I’m allowed to leave, now.” You mock with a darkened voice, just to get your serious point across. He exhaled a large breath and stands to his feet, shuffling over to his dresser, probably finding a shirt since he feels the need to be shirtless all the time..

“Listen, I want details. I’m tired of fucking waking up and falling asleep in a strangers home. So if you could politely drop me off at my own house within the next hour, I won’t press charges. Fair and simple.” You almost plead as he takes his time looking through the drawers of his dresser. His silence and slowness was beginning to get in your nerves. It’s a large pet peeve of yours when you aren’t directly answered.

“Love to, but can’t.” He just simply answers with that, throwing a white shirt over his head and fitting it upon the rest of his body. You internally groan to his statement, shifting your eyes to the doorknob that looked very much enticing. Your head began forming a plan b, if bribing him doesn’t go too well.

“Please..?” You surprised yourself with the stupidly seductive voice you used, something you do to get what you want with men, and it most generally works. “Maybe.” He shrugs, carelessly. He seemed so disinterested and distracted to care about any of the words you were uttering. He strides over to his connecting bathroom, slightly closing the door to piss and brush his teeth.

I guess we’re going straight to plan b, huh?

You hobble out of bed and quietly walk towards the door, successfully letting yourself out without notice. Holy shit. You sprint down the somewhat familiar hallway, around a corner and through the kitchen and what seems to be a living room, until you see a front door looking exit. You immediately scram towards it and unlock the handle and the two deadbolts, successfully pulling it open and letting the outside air smack you right in the face.

Freedom at last.

You run outside, not even caring to close the door, and sprint straight towards the tall fence, the eerie tree-covered surroundings offsetting you slightly. Nevertheless, you ran as fast as possible to the nearest fence sticking your foot in one of the holes to begin your climb. “Hey, get back here!” His low, demanding voice rang through your ears, but you didn’t stop there. You kept climbing, as fast as possible, nearing the top of the fence. You didn’t have the heart to look back and see where he was, you just kept climbing to what would hopefully be safety. The moment you make it to the top to swing your other leg over the fence—

You feel a hand attach to your bare foot..

(masterlist)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Fluffy Days ~ Jumin Han x Reader

Everyone, when they looked at Jumin, they saw him for his position as the Director and future CEO of one of the top 5 biggest, wealthiest companies in South Korea, so it was needless to say that, before thinking of how much he worked to perfect himself to be the best version of a professional director as he can, despite the title being given hereditary, people would still think of all the riches he was blessed with.

Many, like Zen and Yoosung, would envy him for having so much money and being able to do anything he could even dream of, including any weird fantasy like creating a wine line specifically for cats, or a cat brand...

And only he knows what else he thought of, but never tried to give form to.

However, very few ever looked at him for being a hard-working man, business-orientated, rational, logical and always putting the benefit of the company above all else.

But...

Was Jumin truly happy the way he was?

That question was answered one day, when a certain maiden called Y/N found a weird phone on the ground, and somehow found herself joining this charity organisation called RFA, and given her profession as a Vet, and having enough money for herself, and obviously not being a materialistic gold-digger...

Well, the brunet man of the RFA found himself completely entranced by this mysterious woman, who, in time, will end up being his girlfriend, and even more, his fiancee.

In due time, though, there is no rush.

The other important question that even fewer people ever ask themselves was...

Was Jumin never stressed out or over-worked?

And the answer goes pretty obvious that yes, he was, rather often, but he masks that and tries to cope with it by retorting to his childish self that has been long locked away, and yet, sometimes resurfaces when needed, so he does silly cat projects.

Now that he has a lover, however, he can allow himself to go on dates, that began rather fancy, but upon her protest, became more relaxed and casual, preferring peace and content to extravagance and luxuries.

They would go on a picnic in the forest nearby, take impulsive trips to what-ever place they felt like, sometimes throwing a dart on a world map on the wall and going wherever it lands, or going on shopping sprees for whatever self-care items they felt like, doing skin care routines together from time to time, cuddling together in the cinema room, eating commoner cinema snacks that he has to admit, aren’t too bad (although he won’t trade the ‘Melanin’ stake for popcorn).

There are, however, some days when he would just want to stay at home and cuddle with Y/N and Elizabeth the 3rd - Those days are definitely the most stressful and he needs to calm himself down before he bursts with weird emotions, which is something he prides himself to never do, and yet, he acknowledges the fact that it is not impossible, and he is still just a human, not a heartless robot as some claim he is.

As soon as he got home, Jumin sighed, going to his room, threw his blazer on the chair nearby, and folding up his sleeves, he let himself fall on his bed, looking at the ceiling with an exhausted and annoyed expression, before closing his eyes altogether, taking a few deep breaths to calm down.

Sighing at the deplorable state her beloved was in, she went to the bathroom and drew hot water, putting in some lavender bath salt, lighting up some incense sticks, some scented candles with lavender, vanilla and cinnamon, made the lights be dim, put bubble solution and waited until it was hot and steamy in the bath, as she searched for some calming Lo-Fi music, choosing some mountain sounds that had soft bird chirping and forest sounds included.

When everything was perfect, she threw in a Lush northern lights bathbomb, loving how great the purple and blue blended together, and went out, sitting on the side of the bed next to Jumin, gently brushing away the hair from his face and kissing his forehead.

“Come on, darling, I drew you a bath. Let’s help you relax a bit...Shall we?” she spoke in that soft voice that could always sooth his worries away.

He didn’t have the power to say much, but humming positively, he sluggishly followed Y/N to the bathroom, where his eyes widen and how aesthetically pleasing and relaxing the bathroom became.

It was almost like he never had any idea how relaxing a bath can be, and not as much of a ‘chore’ as he felt it was.

Y/N told him to take his clothes off already and get in the water before it gets cold, which seemed to make him chuckle in amusement, but did so without any protesting, and he found himself sighing at how good it felt having his sore, tense muscles tended by the hot water.

She pushed him gently down by the shoulders until he was up to his chin in water, then went to pour a glass of his favourite red wine for him to enjoy.

“Is this how you always take baths?” he asked in a lower voice. “Most of the time, yes. I make this ritual whenever I feel the need to properly relax, and it sort of became like a Pavlovian reflex, y’know?” she snorter in amusement, sitting on the ground next to the bathroom. “I see...Now I understand why you were always looking forward to them.” he nodded slightly in agreement. “I’m happy if it can help you as well. I haven’t seen you this stressed since the whole Sarah and Elizabeth the 3rd problem.” she gave him a sad smile, which made him look deep into her eyes with a pondering look. “I don’t appreciate too many unexpected things coming up all at once.” he nodded, leaning back once again. “What kind of music is this?” “Oh, this! It’s called Lo-Fi, and it’s mostly for relaxing. It has all sorts of genres and types, but this, in particular, is a mountain Lo-Fi. Do you like it? I know it’s different to the classical music you always had, but I thought maybe a little change wouldn’t hurt. I-I can change it back to Debussy and Vivaldi if you don’t like it!” she blinked, her eyes widening at the realisation that she messed up, but he could only chuckle at her cute reactions. “I don’t mind this. It’s pretty nice. Perhaps, as you said, a change in the usual routine wouldn’t hurt once in a while.” he gave her a soft smile, which left her weak to her knees. “Sweet. Let me pamper you up a bit, then.” she grinned, as she started applying a hydrating face mask, putting two big cucumber slices on his eyes. “Why...Are you doing all this for me, Y/N?” he asked, unsure of himself. “Why? Because you’re stressed out an you need to relax, obviously.” she spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, I know, but...Why...?” he asked again, putting emphasis on the last world. “Ohh, I think I get what you mean. Because I love you, of course. I want to spoil you because you love me, and you care about me, and you make me happy, so of course, I want to do anything in my power to reciprocate and make sure you know how much I love you.” her words were so sweet and innocent that Jumin felt the burning need to throw away those stupid cucumber slices and look at her beautiful face, but decided against that impulse, so he won’t upset her and her thoroughly prepared routine.

After that, she took away the slices and gently washed away the cream-mask, in circular motions, as he massaged his face, and he truly felt in Heaven for the first time in ages.

If this wasn’t bliss, he had no idea what else could be.

And if that wasn’t enough, the shower gel she put on the sponge smelled like home-made chocolate, and as she gently rubbed his shoulders, arms and neck, he had to use all the self-restraint he had not to grab her arms and get her in the tub with him so he can hold her tightly to his chest and kiss her until he forgot to breathe altogether.

It lasted for at least an hour, but Jumin got a bit bored and restless of staying in the bathtub, and told the girl he’s done for now, she brought him his bath robe and told him to get in his sleeping wear while she cleans and organises stuff around the bathroom, as it was one of her little quirks, to have everything in order, which always amuses him since he does the exact same thing all the time, going as far as to scold Assistant Kang for not putting the folders on his desk at the exact millimeters specified.

As soon as she was ready, Y/N did a short night time skin care routine and went to her lover, cuddling with him and bringing out the laptop and putting on his favourite movie on the huge plasma TV that he only ever turned on thanks to her.

Jumin wasn’t even sure if he was paying attention to the movie, as he let Y/N hug his head to her chest, gently playing with his hair in a way that made him almost sleepy, yet very warm and content, his past stress and worries being long eradicated.

He remembered her saying that since she was very little, and even now, when she’s all grown up, she always loves crawling in her mum’s arms in bed and letting her play with her hair, as it was one of the few things that can combat her insomnia and help her sleep peacefully...

And now, she was doing it to him, and he felt more than honoured to be subject to such personal, intimate and comforting act of pampering.

That is the kind of privilege he would do anything to achieve, and it was happening to him, as the angel that his girlfriend is was always the one person who could somehow make him feel happy by merely existing.

Outside was a gorgeous night, and Jumin’s dormitory was illuminated by nothing more than the twinkling stars and the glorious silvery light of the moon that was looking over the two lovers holding each other under the covers of the master bed, while faint jazz music played in the background, as it was one of their little before-sleep rituals, still feeling the little euphoria from the movie they just watched.

“Jumin...I love you. And I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Never forget that, okay?” the h/c girl spoke in a gentle voice, as the man ran his fingers through her long locks, just as he would play with his cat’s fur, and she’d start purring. “I won’t forget, Y/N. I’m glad you were able to convince me to meet up with you, despite the circumstances, back then when we barely knew each other. No, actually, I am glad that you found that phone.” Jumin’s velvety voice spoke out, ringing in her ears. “Want to go out tomorrow? I have a free day tomorrow at the clinic. We can go have a walk through the forest or the park, if you want.” Y/N suggested, drawing shapes on the man’s chest absent-mindedly. “I don’t see why not. Elizabeth the 3rd is at V’s and I’ll have Assistant Kang erase everything from tomorrow’s schedule. I believe I had some meeting with another business with a group of women...Not something I’m too fond of.” he groaned slightly, making the girl chuckle and raise slowly, resting her form on her elbow. “What, you don’t want to throw around too many compliments and sickeningly sweet sugar-coated words in just one day?” she chuckled, a teasing smirk on her face. “The more I look at you, the more you remind me of a vixen. I don’t see any reason why I should carelessly throw around compliments to thirsty women who are only in it for my money and looks, when I could direct them all to that one person who holds my heart.” Jumin shot right back, making the girl dramatically put her hand over her heart, mimicking that she got shot by Cupid’s arrow. “Mon Dieu, my ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, are you sure you’re not trying to charm me again?” she leaned down to plant a soft kiss on his lips, as one of her hands gently brushed away the fringe from his face. “There is no end line to the path to someone’s affections. I believe that once you found the special someone, one should continue to show their appreciation towards said person.” his words soothed her heart like a nice glass of rose syrup as he snaked his hands around her waist and brought her back into an embrace, her head resting on his shoulder. “You always know how to make my heart beat like crazy.” she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, giggling softly, making the man shiver slightly. “Just like a fox.” he muttered, chuckling lightly.

[marshmallow-phd]

The Anormic

Part of The Experiments Universe

Genre: Lucky One/Obsession AU

Pairing: Kris x Reader

Summary: You were everything he needed to feel human. But not even your presence could keep the nightmares away. The years had gone by and it seemed his dreams were all that was left of his trauma. When his past comes back and snatches you away, the human mask he’d worked so hard to create will be ripped away and he’ll stop at nothing to get you back.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

**

You stumbled back, tripping over your feet and barely catching your balance before you could meet the floor. You felt like you’d been tossed in front of an eighteen-wheeler. To keep you steady, you placed your palm against the cold cinderblock wall. No. It couldn’t be the same Kris that he spoke about, not your Kris. Sure, he had a mysterious past, but you took it as easily explainable; a bad childhood or dysfunctional family he was trying to outrun, maybe even a criminal record that he deeply regretted. This was something else entirely.

You racked through your memory, trying to find any sort of sign or clue that this man was telling the truth. Kris couldn’t have any powers or extraordinary gifts. He was an average person who worked a laborious job, who came home to you in the evening, and lived an ordinary life. But the dots were there to connect: the ambiguous past that he rarely spoke of, the quick reflexes, and lifting of objects that should have taken more struggle. This Dr. Brandt had said he was like a dragon – a possible hint as to what else Kris was hiding from you?

“Quite a shock, isn’t it?” Dr. Brandt said, amused.

The words to snipe back were far out of reach. Part of you wanted to jump him like an overprotective cheetah, clawing his face with your fingernails until you drew blood. But the meeker part of you couldn’t find the strength to attack, barely able to keep your knees from buckling under.

“He was one of the subjects that progressed quickly. A shining example for the other eleven.”

Other eleven? Tao. Did that mean Kris’ friend Tao was among them? Were the other men you saw leave part of that group as well? Dr. Brandt’s smirk deepened, if that was possible. He seemingly enjoyed your confusion.

“So… you want to cage them all up again?” It was the only question you could push out onto the surface. There many more – more details of the experiments, what he meant by Kris jumping sides. A deep labyrinth lied before you. While you had no idea what sort of Minotaur waited in the middle and you were left without a string, you knew you would have to move forward to get to the truth.

“Actually, we’ve made progress without the original subjects,” he said. “Much more than could have ever hoped from the first trials. However, we’ve hit a bit of a wall. If we are to keep forging a new way, we need to glance back. We need Kris’ cooperation to do so.”

You swallowed thickly. At least he wasn’t trying to be the mysterious mad scientist in the tower. He came right down and had no issues explaining to you his evil plans. “So what do you need me for then? To make him help you?”

“Unfortunate collateral. We know that getting Kris here would be more trouble than it's worth. You were the easier target, so we brought you here. Eventually, Kris will come to us and be more than cooperative. Then, when we have all that we need, the two of you can go on your way.”

Great. You were bait. Like a worm on a hook. The tension in your jaw made the muscles under the skin ache. Even your teeth were whining from the pain. “So, I’m guessing you left him a little map on how to get here?”

“Oh, no!” Dr. Brandt laughed. “That’s not nearly as fun. But we did leave behind a clue to get him started. He’s an intelligent being. He’ll find us… eventually. Until then, enjoy the hospitality.” Like a dancer, he whirled on the balls of his feet and exited the room. The door slid closed behind him, the click finalizing the idea that this would be your prison for the foreseeable future.

You were battling yourself. You wanted Kris to come rescue you, but him getting pulled back into this mess of a place was horrifying image. It was hard to wrap around the thought of Kris living a life of experimentation, of tests and needles and torture. And for what? What was the purpose behind all of this? You almost shouted for the mad doctor to come to answer the questions, but you held your tongue. Now wasn’t the time to draw attention to yourself. While the doctors and guards might be aware of your presence, you needed to fade into the background of their minds. If you were going to get out of here, you needed to become almost invisible. So, instead of screaming into the abyss where your words would fall on uninterested ears, you lied down on the bed, eyes focused on the slick white ceiling. Kris would come for you, but in the meantime, you would create your plan. Because you would get out of here and you refused to let Kris be caged ever again. In order to that, you would have to find your own way.

**

It was hot. It was the kind of memorable hot where beads of sweat dotted the hairline in a way that was never ending and the sun shined up in the sky without any mercy from the clouds that had been dotting the sky for the past few days. Overnight they had either drifted off to another landscape or dissipated back into their individual water droplets. Despite the heat, it was still a beautiful day. The park was full of families and couples enjoying the fresh air, but it wasn’t overcrowded to the point of being suffocating. You took in the sights with a smile as you sat at one of the picnic tables by your lonesome. Textbook and pen at the ready, you were killing two birds with one stone by finally leaving the confining walls of your studio apartment while still getting plenty of studying done before your test next week.

After a few hours, your eyes were tiring from the glare the glossy paper gave off. The words were beginning to blur. You were no longer able to recite the previous sentence that you’d read. A break was certainly earned.

As your gaze wandered around the park it settled on a small food truck across the bike path. The signs all over the metal sides said their specialty was ice cream. Well, you’d worked hard for a treat, hadn’t you? Packing up your things, you threw your bag over your shoulder and made way to the truck expertly dodging children playing tag in the process. The line moved at a tolerable pace, giving you enough time to pick out a treat before approaching the front window. The woman inside the truck was friendly. She wrote down your order with a smile and, after handing your card back, pointed you off to the side where you could pick up your sundae. You were practically bouncing with anticipation as you watched from the opened back door; the employee scooped up the vanilla ice cream and torched the marshmallows until they were a perfect golden brown. The grin on your face was wide to the point of making your cheeks ache as you thanked the young man who handed the Styrofoam bowl to you. Not wasting time to find a spot to sit down, you walked down the bike path as you attempted to eat at a pace that was acceptable for the public.

All afternoon you had been hearing the typical noises of the park, most not bothering you in the slightest. You weren’t so easily distracted, but the blissful air you were currently in must have made you more susceptible. The chime of a bike bell caught your attention. You glanced over your shoulder to see a teenage boy peddling fast and laughing as he left his friends in the dust. But he wasn’t paying attention to where his bike was going, thinking that his bell was enough to clear the way as he stared behind him. Before he could collide with you, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. It pulled you out of the way in time but at the expense of your ice cream.

The bowl was cracked nearly in half. Chocolate syrup and melted mush covered both your shirt and the shirt of the wannabe hero.

“Well, that was nice while it lasted,” you murmured in disappointment.

“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice apologized.

You looked up and – as much as you hated to admit it – your irritation dissolved away, all because of the very handsome face that you were getting lost in. You waved his sorry away. “It’s okay. Better than being a bug squished on the cement.”

That made him laugh. “Let me replace it.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. Thank you, though.”

“No, I insist.”

“Really, its-” You were completely ignored. The man – the very tall, handsome man – was already walking towards the food truck, wallet in hand. Nerves and butterflies took over your body as you stood there on the edge of the path, unable to walk away when you would have in any other situation. But there was something intriguing about this man. Not to mention, you were a sucker for chivalry.

The man came back with a new s’mores bowl balanced in one hand. Balanced wasn’t really the right word as what took two hands for you to carry rested nicely in his single palm. His other held onto a stack of napkins. The latter was handed out to you first.

“Thank you.” You took a few napkins shyly. Once you were cleaned up, you took the sundae. “Thanks.” You already said that. Clearing your throat, you tucked the used napkins under your arm and held out a free hand. “I’m (/y).”

He smiled broadly. “Kris.”

**

The building looked different. For over a year, the sight of the lit-up windows and the silhouette outline against the setting sun was a welcoming one – it loosened his tense shoulders, opened up his lungs. He felt stronger, even more so than he already was. A deep rest couldn’t do for him what seeing this place had. He always felt like he could live forever. Invincible, like Superman.

Now, though? Now it was simply a monument to his faults. Bricks and mortar that stood for nothing but loss. If he’d known that meeting you that day in the park would lead to this, he would have left the second he pulled you out of the way of the bike. He wouldn’t have smiled as you enjoyed the ice cream or even given you his name. Or, at least, he hoped that he would have gone the other way. As he walked up the stairs of the apartment building, he was bombarded with memories. The happy ones, most of all. But even the fights came pushing through. In those moments he’d been angry and frustrated, wanting to never have another scene like that again once you’d both calmed down and said sorry. In the present, though, he would give anything to have another fight with you. Back and forth he bounced, from wishing he’d never met you to praying he’d be able to hold you in his arms again. With unstable fingers he unlocked the front door and went inside.

The place was still a disaster. He hadn’t bothered cleaning up or even attempting to right any of the overturned furniture before he’d left. Dust was already starting to settle on every surface – something that would have driven you crazy. You couldn’t stand a dirty home. You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until it was spotless, just the way you liked it. Although, Kris had always thought that you simply used that as an excuse to procrastinate your studying. If it was you who had made the mess with your homework, then it wasn’t a dire situation. He’d always laughed at your pitiful argument against his statement. The lights suddenly flickered on.

“Kris?”

Turning around, Kris felt immediate relief.

Standing in the doorway were four of his brothers. He hadn’t seen them in quite a while. The exact amount of time was lost to him. Years, maybe? They all lived on the military base that kept them safe. It had crossed his mind once or twice to take you there to live. It might have helped drive the worry and the nightmares away. But that would have meant telling you everything. That inevitability haunted him even more.

“Chanyeol.” He tried to swallow down the shakiness in his voice. Thankfully, the younger hybrid took the first step, not even acknowledging the way Kris was barely holding it together. He closed the space between them with long strides and hugged Kris for the first time in years. Kris sighed into the embrace, even patting Chanyeol on the back. When they parted, Kris said, “Thank you for coming. I know this is probably the last thing you want to get involved in.”

“Hence why there’s only four of us,” Baekhyun huffed. The haughty air was clearly fake given the smirk dancing in the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to see you, too, Baekhyun.”

“So, Chanyeol said that your… friend was taken.” Minseok crossed his arms and leaned up against the door after shutting it behind him.

“My girlfriend,” Kris correct.

“And you both lived here?” Yixing asked.

Kris nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know how they found us. The apartment is under her name.”

“Does she know about you?” Chanyeol ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Does she now about us?”

“No,” Kris admitted. “Well, at least she didn’t before. Now- now there’s no telling what she does and doesn’t know.”

Yixing walked deeper into the apartment until he reached the living room. Crouching down, he examined the shards of glass sprinkled all over the rug. He scooped up a hand full, not bothered at all by the tiny cuts the edges made on his fingers and palms; they healed just as quickly as they were formed. “How long ago did they take her?”

“Day and a half ago. Why?”

“Just wondering. I wasn’t sure if they tried to come back and get you as well. Or if this was caused by them coming back.”

“Nothing’s changed since I left.”

“Did you find anything on your original search?”

Kris cleared his throat. Yixing and he… well, they never really had the closest of relationships, even back before they were separated. As thankful as he was that the latter had volunteered to help, Kris still couldn’t help against feeling the slightest bit awkward. “I didn’t do a thorough search, but I did find this.” He walked over to where his duffel bag was sitting on the floor and unzipped the pocket that held the frayed badge.

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at the symbol. “What is it?”

“It’s the symbol for Regeneration Science, camouflaged unit for EXO. Wang told me about it. She considerate it their back up plan. I never put too much thought into it. The way she talked about RS made it sound like that’s where they would move everything in case something were to happen.”

Minseok took the patch, examining it closer. “Is it possible that they had a copy of the files that you didn’t know about?”

Kris shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thought so. Wang was protective of her research. She didn’t like the idea of copies floating around. While I was still undercover, I tried to find all the copies that I could. They didn’t exist.”

“They obviously still have something on us,” Baekhyun chimed in. “Why else try to come after us again after all these years?”

“That’s a good point,” Yixing said as he straightened himself back up. “If you found that,” he pointed to the patch, “without looking, then maybe there’s something else here. I think we should dig a bit deeper, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

So, the four of them started searching around the apartment, checking under the couch and in the different rooms for any other clue the enemy might have left behind. Kris headed towards the bedroom, but found himself frozen in the doorway. His brain, adding to the cruel torture he was already in, imagined you sitting on the bed, covers draped over your legs, smiling at him as if he’d just come back from a long day at work.

“You alright?” Minseok asked. His sudden appearance made Kris jump.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Behind Minseok, he watched as Chanyeol picked up the bookcase and set it against the wall. On the floor were scattered papers and folders, creased from the pressure of the wood that had lied on top of them. “Excuse me.” Kris passed by Minseok to get to the living room.

“Is this yours?” Chanyeol asked.

Kris shook his head. “No, it was (y/n)’s. For one of her classes.”

Frowning, Yixing picked up several of the papers and skimmed their contents. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course.” Why would you lie about something like that?

Yixing held up one of the papers for Kris to see. “I think this might have been how they found you.”

In a flash, Kris snatched the paper. His eyes flew over the words. Slowly, their meanings sank in. It was a list off all the previous places he’d lived, including the different aliases and variations he’d gone by. Only after meeting you had he gotten weak and used his real name. How did you find any of this? But more importantly….

Why were you looking for it in the first place?

[unsettlingshortstories]

Terra Incognita

Vladimir Nabokov (1931)

The sound of the waterfall grew more and more muffled, until it finally dissolved altogether, and we moved on through the wildwood of a hitherto unexplored region. We walked, and had been walking, for a long time already—in front, Gregson and I; our eight native porters behind, one after the other; last of all, whining and protesting at every step, came Cook. I knew that Gregson had recruited him on the advice of a local hunter. Cook had insisted that he was ready to do anything to get out of Zonraki, where they pass half the year brewing their von-gho and the other half drinking it. It remained unclear, however—or else I was already beginning to forget many things, as we walked on and on—exactly who this Cook was (a runaway sailor, perhaps?).

Gregson strode on beside me, sinewy, lanky, with bare, bony knees. He held a long-handled green butterfly net like a banner. The porters, big, glossy-brown Badonians with thick manes of hair and cobalt arabesques between their eyes, whom we had also engaged in Zonraki, walked with a strong, even step. Behind them straggled Cook, bloated, red-haired, with a drooping underlip, hands in pockets and carrying nothing. I recalled vaguely that at the outset of the expedition he had chattered a lot and made obscure jokes, in a manner he had, a mixture of insolence and servility, reminiscent of a Shakespearean clown; but soon his spirits fell and he grew glum and began to neglect his duties, which included interpreting, since Gregson’s understanding of the Badonian dialect was still poor.

There was something languorous and velvety about the heat. A stifling fragrance came from the inflorescences of Vallieria mirifica, mother-of-pearl in color and resembling clusters of soap bubbles, that arched across the narrow, dry streambed along which we proceeded. The branches of porphyroferous trees intertwined with those of the black-leafed limia to form a tunnel, penetrated here and there by a ray of hazy light. Above, in the thick mass of vegetation, among brilliant pendulous racemes and strange dark tangles of some kind, hoary monkeys snapped and chattered, while a cometlike bird flashed like Bengal light, crying out in its small, shrill voice. I kept telling myself that my head was heavy from the long march, the heat, the medley of colors, and the forest din, but secretly I knew that I was ill. I surmised it to be the local fever. I had resolved, however, to conceal my condition from Gregson, and had assumed a cheerful, even merry air, when disaster struck.

“It’s my fault,” said Gregson. “I should never have got involved with him.”

We were now alone. Cook and all eight of the natives, with tent, folding boat, supplies, and collections, had deserted us and vanished noiselessly while we busied ourselves in the thick bush, chasing fascinating insects. I think we tried to catch up with the fugitives—I do not recall clearly, but, in any case, we failed. We had to decide whether to return to Zonraki or continue our projected itinerary, across as yet unknown country, toward the Gurano Hills. The unknown won out. We moved on. I was already shivering all over and deafened by quinine, but still went on collecting nameless plants, while Gregson, though fully realizing the danger of our situation, continued catching butterflies and diptera as avidly as ever.

We had scarcely walked half a mile when suddenly Cook overtook us. His shirt was torn—apparently by himself, deliberately—and he was panting and gasping. Without a word Gregson drew his revolver and prepared to shoot the scoundrel, but he threw himself at Gregson’s feet and, shielding his head with both arms, began to swear that the natives had led him away by force and had wanted to eat him (which was a lie, for the Badonians are not cannibals). I suspect that he had easily incited them, stupid and timorous as they were, to abandon the dubious journey, but had not taken into account that he could not keep up with their powerful stride and, having fallen hopelessly behind, had returned to us. Because of him invaluable collections were lost. He had to die. But Gregson put away the revolver and we moved on, with Cook wheezing and stumbling behind.

The woods were gradually thinning. I was tormented by strange hallucinations. I gazed at the weird tree trunks, around some of which were coiled thick, flesh-colored snakes; suddenly I thought I saw, between the trunks, as though through my fingers, the mirror of a half-open wardrobe with dim reflections, but then I took hold of myself, looked more carefully, and found that it was only the deceptive glimmer of an acreana bush (a curly plant with large berries resembling plump prunes). After a while the trees parted altogether and the sky rose before us like a solid wall of blue. We were at the top of a steep incline. Below shimmered and steamed an enormous marsh, and, far beyond, one distinguished the tremulous silhouette of a mauve-colored range of hills.

“I swear to God we must turn back,” said Cook in a sobbing voice. “I swear to God we’ll perish in these swamps—I’ve got seven daughters and a dog at home. Let’s turn back—we know the way.…”

He wrung his hands, and the sweat rolled from his fat, red-browed face. “Home, home,” he kept repeating. “You’ve caught enough bugs. Let’s go home!”

Gregson and I began to descend the stony slope. At first Cook remained standing above, a small white figure against the monstrously green background of forest; but suddenly he threw up his hands, uttered a cry, and started to slither down after us.

The slope narrowed, forming a rocky crest that reached out like a long promontory into the marshes; they sparkled through the steamy haze. The noonday sky, now freed of its leafy veils, hung oppressively over us with its blinding darkness—yes, its blinding darkness, for there is no other way to describe it. I tried not to look up; but in this sky, at the very verge of my field of vision, there floated, always keeping up with me, whitish phantoms of plaster, stucco curlicues and rosettes, like those used to adorn European ceilings; however, I had only to look directly at them and they would vanish, and again the tropical sky would boom, as it were, with even, dense blueness. We were still walking along the rocky promontory, but it kept tapering and betraying us. Around it grew golden marsh reeds, like a million bared swords gleaming in the sun. Here and there flashed elongated pools, and over them hung dark swarms of midges. A large swamp flower, presumably an orchid, stretched toward me its drooping, downy lip, which seemed smeared with egg yolk. Gregson swung his net—and sank to his hips in the brocaded ooze as a gigantic swallowtail, with a flap of its satin wing, sailed away from him over the reeds, toward the shimmer of pale emanations where the indistinct folds of a window curtain seemed to hang. I must not, I said to myself, I must not.… I shifted my gaze and walked on beside Gregson, now over rock, now across hissing and lip-smacking soil. I felt chills, in spite of the greenhouse heat. I foresaw that in a moment I would collapse altogether, that the contours and convexities of delirium, showing through the sky and through the golden reeds, would gain complete control of my consciousness. At times Gregson and Cook seemed to grow transparent, and I thought I saw, through them, wallpaper with an endlessly repeated design of reeds. I took hold of myself, strained to keep my eyes open, and moved on. Cook by now was crawling on all fours, yelling, and snatching at Gregson’s legs, but the latter would shake him off and keep walking. I looked at Gregson, at his stubborn profile, and felt, to my horror, that I was forgetting who Gregson was, and why I was with him.

Meanwhile we kept sinking into the ooze more and more frequently, deeper and deeper; the insatiable mire would suck at us; and, wriggling, we would slip free. Cook kept falling down and crawling, covered with insect bites, all swollen and soaked, and, dear God, how he would squeal when disgusting bevies of minute, bright-green hydrotic snakes, attracted by our sweat, would take off in pursuit of us, tensing and uncoiling to sail two yards and then another two. I, however, was much more frightened by something else: now and then, on my left (always, for some reason, on my left), listing among the repetitious reeds, what seemed a large armchair but was actually a strange, cumbersome gray amphibian, whose name Gregson refused to tell me, would rise out of the swamp.

“A break,” said Gregson abruptly, “let’s take a break.”

By a stroke of luck we managed to scramble onto an islet of rock, surrounded by the swamp vegetation. Gregson took off his knapsack and issued us some native patties, smelling of ipecacuanha, and a dozen acreana fruit. How thirsty I was, and how little help was the scanty, astringent juice of the acreana.…

“Look, how odd,” Gregson said to me, not in English, but in some other language, so that Cook would not understand. “We must get through to the hills, but look, how odd—could the hills have been a mirage?—they are no longer visible.”

I raised myself up from my pillow and leaned my elbow on the resilient surface of the rock.… Yes, it was true that the hills were no longer visible; there was only the quivering vapor hanging over the marsh. Once again everything around me assumed an ambiguous transparency. I leaned back and said softly to Gregson, “You probably can’t see, but something keeps trying to come through.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Gregson.

I realized that what I was saying was nonsense and stopped. My head was spinning and there was a humming in my ears; Gregson, down on one knee, rummaged through his knapsack, but found no medicine there, and my supply was exhausted. Cook sat in silence, morosely picking at a rock. Through a rent in his shirtsleeve there showed a strange tattoo on his arm: a crystal tumbler with a teaspoon, very well executed.

“Vallière is sick—haven’t you got some tablets?” Gregson said to him. I did not hear the exact words, but I could guess the general sense of their talk, which would grow absurd and somehow spherical when I tried to listen more closely.

Cook turned slowly and the glassy tattoo slid off his skin to one side, remaining suspended in midair; then it floated off, floated off, and I pursued it with my frightened gaze, but, as I turned away, it lost itself in the vapor of the swamp, with a last faint gleam.

“Serves you right,” muttered Cook. “It’s just too bad. The same will happen to you and me. Just too bad.…”

In the course of the last few minutes—that is, ever since we had stopped to rest on the rocky islet—he seemed to have grown larger, had swelled, and there was now something mocking and dangerous about him. Gregson took off his sun helmet and, pulling out a dirty handkerchief, wiped his forehead, which was orange over the brows, and white above that. Then he put on his helmet again, leaned over to me, and said, “Pull yourself together, please” (or words to that effect). “We shall try to move on. The vapor is hiding the hills, but they are there. I am certain we have covered about half the swamp.” (This is all very approximate.)

“Murderer,” said Cook under his breath. The tattoo was now again on his forearm; not the entire glass, though, but one side of it—there was not quite enough room for the remainder, which quivered in space, casting reflections. “Murderer,” Cook repeated with satisfaction, raising his inflamed eyes. “I told you we would get stuck here. Black dogs eat too much carrion. Mi, re, fa, sol.”

“He’s a clown,” I softly informed Gregson, “a Shakespearean clown.”

“Clow, clow, clow,” Gregson answered, “clow, clow—clo, clo, clo.… Do you hear,” he went on, shouting in my ear. “You must get up. We have to move on.”

The rock was as white and as soft as a bed. I raised myself a little, but promptly fell back on the pillow.

“We shall have to carry him,” said Gregson’s faraway voice. “Give me a hand.”

“Fiddlesticks,” replied Cook (or so it sounded to me). “I suggest we enjoy some fresh meat before he dries up. Fa, sol, mi, re.”

“He’s sick, he’s sick too,” I cried to Gregson. “You’re here with two lunatics. Go ahead alone. You’ll make it.… Go.”

“Fat chance we’ll let him go,” said Cook.

Meanwhile delirious visions, taking advantage of the general confusion, were quietly and firmly finding their places. The lines of a dim ceiling stretched and crossed in the sky. A large armchair rose, as if supported from below, out of the swamp. Glossy birds flew through the haze of the marsh and, as they settled, one turned into the wooden knob of a bedpost, another into a decanter. Gathering all my willpower, I focused my gaze and drove off this dangerous trash. Above the reeds flew real birds with long flame-colored tails. The air buzzed with insects. Gregson was waving away a varicolored fly, and at the same time trying to determine its species. Finally he could contain himself no longer and caught it in his net. His motions underwent curious changes, as if someone kept reshuffling them. I saw him in different poses simultaneously; he was divesting himself of himself, as if he were made of many glass Gregsons whose outlines did not coincide. Then he condensed again, and stood up firmly. He was shaking Cook by the shoulder.

“You are going to help me carry him,” Gregson was saying distinctly. “If you were not a traitor, we would not be in this mess.”

Cook remained silent, but slowly flushed purple.

“See here, Cook, you’ll regret this,” said Gregson. “I’m telling you for the last time—”

At this point occurred what had been ripening for a long time. Cook drove his head like a bull into Gregson’s stomach. They both fell; Gregson had time to get his revolver out, but Cook managed to knock it out of his hand. Then they clutched each other and started rolling in their embrace, panting deafeningly. I looked at them, helpless. Cook’s broad back would grow tense and the vertebrae would show through his shirt; but suddenly, instead of his back, a leg, also his, would appear, covered with coppery hairs, and with a blue vein running up the skin, and Gregson was rolling on top of him. Gregson’s helmet flew off and wobbled away, like half of an enormous cardboard egg. From somewhere in the labyrinth of their bodies Cook’s fingers wriggled out, clenching a rusty but sharp knife; the knife entered Gregson’s back as if it were clay, but Gregson only gave a grunt, and they both rolled over several times; when I next saw my friend’s back the handle and top half of the blade protruded, while his hands had locked around Cook’s thick neck, which crunched as he squeezed, and Cook’s legs were twitching. They made one last full revolution, and now only a quarter of the blade was visible—no, a fifth—no, now not even that much showed: it had entered completely. Gregson grew still after having piled on top of Cook, who had also become motionless.

I watched, and it seemed to me (fogged as my senses were by fever) that this was all a harmless game, that in a moment they would get up and, when they had caught their breath, would peacefully carry me off across the swamp toward the cool blue hills, to some shady place with babbling water. But suddenly, at this last stage of my mortal illness—for I knew that in a few minutes I would die—in these final minutes everything grew completely lucid: I realized that all that was taking place around me was not the trick of an inflamed imagination, not the veil of delirium, through which unwelcome glimpses of my supposedly real existence in a distant European city (the wallpaper, the armchair, the glass of lemonade) were trying to show. I realized that the obtrusive room was fictitious, since everything beyond death is, at best, fictitious: an imitation of life hastily knocked together, the furnished rooms of nonexistence. I realized that reality was here, here beneath that wonderful, frightening tropical sky, among those gleaming swordlike reeds, in that vapor hanging over them, and in the thick-lipped flowers clinging to the flat islet, where, beside me, lay two clinched corpses. And, having realized this, I found within me the strength to crawl over to them and pull the knife from the back of Gregson, my leader, my dear friend. He was dead, quite dead, and all the little bottles in his pockets were broken and crushed. Cook, too, was dead, and his ink-black tongue protruded from his mouth. I pried open Gregson’s fingers and turned his body over. His lips were half-open and bloody; his face, which already seemed hardened, appeared badly shaven; the bluish whites of his eyes showed between the lids. For the last time I saw all this distinctly, consciously, with the seal of authenticity on everything—their skinned knees, the bright flies circling over them, the females of those flies already seeking a spot for oviposition. Fumbling with my enfeebled hands, I took a thick notebook out of my shirt pocket, but here I was overcome by weakness; I sat down and my head drooped. And yet I conquered this impatient fog of death and looked around. Blue air, heat, solitude.… And how sorry I felt for Gregson, who would never return home—I even remembered his wife and the old cook, and his parrots, and many other things. Then I thought about our discoveries, our precious finds, the rare, still undescribed plants and animals that now would never be named by us. I was alone. Hazier flashed the reeds, dimmer flamed the sky. My eyes followed an exquisite beetle that was crawling across a stone, but I had no strength left to catch it. Everything around me was fading, leaving bare the scenery of death—a few pieces of realistic furniture and four walls. My last motion was to open the book, which was damp with my sweat, for I absolutely had to make a note of something; but, alas, it slipped out of my hand. I groped all along the blanket, but it was no longer there.

[george-fabian-weasley]

I am here again :)

👁️👄👁️ - could you please review of Fred fic 👉🏼👈🏼 it's called 'Until Every Star In the Universe Dies'

HDIAJD MAITRI HONEY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR JOINING MY SLEEPOVER MUAH ILY 🥺💓

Until Every Star in the Universe Dies by @mytreec

Summary: Prompt 22. "Take me back to the night we met." (Lord Huron - The night we met)

For me personally, I don't mind if fics don't have summaries, one sentence is enough to pique my interest but others may not feel the same, so I would probably suggest do a short summary first, so people will know what they're diving into! Also I love the song so much KDHSJDJ i suggest yall read it with the song in the background!

They sat in the Great Hall surrounded by all the survivors. The battle was over, Voldemort was dead. But then why did they not feel the want to rejoice like everyone else around them? Why did they feel numb to their surroundings - the sounds, whispers, light, joy, everything? It was because the one person that mattered the most wasn’t there with them. How did any of this matter, winning the war and defeating the darkest wizard of all time, if they didn’t have them by their side? They’d lost their S/O; nothing mattered anymore.

I really love how you managed to describe the feelings, it really got me hooked so so good LIKE SO SO GOOD YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Filch’s footsteps and shouts drew closer. Y/N held her breath as they momentarily paused outside the tapestry before continuing onwards, releasing her breath only when she could no longer hear them. She turned to look up wide-eyed at the chocolate brown eyes staring down at her in curiosity. Both their chests heaved heavily, trying to get enough oxygen into their lungs.

DUDE THE TENSION HERE IS SO STRONG JSHDJSJJF I LOVE THIS YUH GET ITTTT

“You never told me your name!” she heard Fred shout out after her.

WAIT NO I LOVE THIS FRED WOULD DEFINITELY DO THIS OH MY DJSJJDJSHD there is just something about this sentence that makes me giddy like GAHHH HE WANTS TO KNOW HER NAMEEE

In the kitchen, Molly could be seen gripping onto the countertop, her knuckles white, not being to deal with the gut-wrenching sobs that sounded through the Burrow. George remained quiet, holding his best friend and rocking them back and forth.

WAIT NO— MOLLY NOOOO PLEASE I WANNA HUG HER SHSKHXJS NOOOOO NOT MOLLY

“Take me back,” they muttered over and over again, pleading the universe to rewind time and let them live these past seven years with their S/O again.

wow. this one right here broke me. IT BROKE ME MAITRI YOU KNOW THIS WOULD HAPPEN DIDNT YOU

Fred’s eyes didn’t waver from Y/N as he answered, “I’m going to marry her mum,” His eyes drifted away from Y/N to look at his mother, “I know we’re only seventeen and we’re still young but there can be no one but her.”

OH FUCK NO MAITRI THE FEELS IS TOO STRONG IM CRYING LEGIT TEARS

“Come dance with me,” he whispered into the quiet of the morning.

I'm weak for this. I aint strong for this mAITRI WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

They laid there in silence, staring into each other's eyes, relishing in the feeling of being in the other’s arms because who knew if they would be able to do this again. The war was coming, everyone could feel it. The darkness looming over the world had reached its optimum point, the muggles noticed it too whether they knew what it was about or not.

This paragraph right here, it's just beautiful. You described the situation so well and the feeling so wonderfully. HDJWJJDD YOURE SO GOOD AT THIS WHAT

They laid in bed that night in each other’s arms. Sleep was the last thing on their mind as they exchanged small kisses and quiet I-love-you’s, and wiped each other’s tears away. They stayed awake as the morning light streamed into the bedroom lighting up the world in a soft orange glow, staring at each other knowing that could very well be the last night they got to do this.

the way this broke me so much 🥺 MAITRI IS BREAKING MY HEART WHAT YOU WANTED?

“Why? Why did you leave me? Why do I get to live whereas you died?” they asked, their throat constricting as they compelled themself not to cry, “Why? Why did you push me out of the way?”

BROOOO NOOO NOT THE BREAKDOWN—JUST ANYTHING BUT THE BREAKDOWN IM CRYING

“No. Please no. No no no,” they choked out, hurrying to move the broken wall pieces aside and uncover the body, hoping it wasn’t them even though deep down they knew it was. The world fell silent as they fell onto their knees, numb to the shock that went up through their legs. They let out a blood-curdling cry at the sight of their S/O’s unmoving body; eyes unblinking, staring up at the ceiling but seeing nothing. They gathered them up in their arms, moving their hair and dust out of their face.

One question. How dare you

They continued to fight against Ron, shouting at him to let them go. They couldn't leave them alone, they had to get back to them. Their S/O couldn’t wake up all alone in the middle of an ongoing war.

MAITRI NOOOOO IM SOBBING THIS IS TOO SAD FOR ME PLEASE

The first smile, in months, broke out on their face, similar to the rays of sunshine peeking through the breaks in the clouds after a storm, as a gentle breeze grazed their cheeks, the feeling equivalent to fingers tracing the freckles on their cheeks and nose, playing connect-the-dots.

Momma this one right here is one good paragraph of words. I can't explain it but I love it so much

Also I won't spoil the ending but here is my reaction basically

Overall: I- Wow. That was a fucking beautiful emotional rollercoaster. I haven't cried so much for a fic for a long while now, holy crap. 10/10 would recommend, 10/10 would read back just to shed a few (more like a fuckton) tears, 10/10 would share this to my mom and let her cry too, 10/10 one of my fav Fred Weasley fics from now on BUT MAITRI YOU BROKE MEEEE HOW CAN I HEAL NOW I LOVE YOU BUT YOU HURT ME 😭

JOIN MY SLEEPOVER!