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#my mind certainly is a sin though

roanniom · 8 months

Note

i can’t stop thinking about virgin! eddie being so embarrassed about coming after like 3 seconds and he keeps apologizing and says he wants to make up for it😩😩

Okay for You

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV / unprotected sex, uncertainty but it resolves

“Jesus fucking Christ, holy mother of fucking god,” he’s stuttering as you lower yourself down on him. His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips so hard you can most certainly count on bruises tomorrow. He’s a lot to take but it feels good as you sink down, giving him a wincing grin.

“Didn’t know the town satan worshiper was so religious,” you tease, lightly sliding the tip of your index finger up and down the naked expanse of his chest in the shape of a cross. “Do you wanna be absolved of sin or do you wanna cum?

“Fuck, you can’t just–,” Eddie bucks up into you harshly and you laugh. Your laugh gets brighter when you notice the furrow in his brow and the desperation in his eyes.

“Choose sin, Eddie. I know you wanna cum.”

“Quit talking about cumming, I’m gonna fucking bust,” he whines out. You roll your hips, once, twice.

“Cum on the dark side, Eddie. We’ve got pussy.”

You’re straight up giggling at your own absurdity and at how far gone he is in under a minutes. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth drops open in a heady groan, hips stuttering upwards as he spills deep inside you. You ground your hands on his shoulders and bear down on him so that he feels fully encased and snug through his orgasm.

Eddie, it turns out, is fucking beautiful when he cums. Pink tinges the high points of his cheeks, getting darker around his ears and flushing crimson down his neck to his chest. His wet lips are open as he gasps down air, eyelids shut tight against the intensity of his release.

It takes him a minute, but the second he realizes what’s happened, his hands are off your thighs and covering his face in mortification.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“That good, handsome?” you ask smugly, not quite noticing the tonal shift yet.

“No its…well yeah but I didn’t…that was too…fuck I’m so sorry.” When he finishes rambling he sits up and pulls his hands from his face, revealing an almost teary eyed expression. Your eyebrows shoot up in response.

“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” you ask, suddenly a lot softer, your hand curling around his forearm to pull him so he stops biting at a nail.

“I just blew my load in 0.5 seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You stare at him for a second before breaking out into hysterical giggles. He looks affronted at first, but as you keep laugh the corner of his mouth quirks a little.

“What?”

“Eddie, you are a virgin,” you clarify, though you immediately amend it. “Were a virgin. I kinda expected it, to be honest.”

Eddie huffs a laugh but sits a bit straighter. He’s still inside you, growing soft, but you like the closeness so you don’t get up just get.

“What? You didn’t think I’d be a mind blowing lover?” he asks and your glad he’s back to making jokes. You shrug.

“You’ve got a big dick, so you’re not that far off to begin with. If we work on your stamina you could be blowing my back out in no time.”

You watch him short circuit as he stares at you and you definitely don’t miss the way his dick twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” he asks. It’s hesitant. You lean forward and give him a kiss that answers all his questions - bruising and wet and probing and dirty - and his lips chase yours when you pull away.

“You’ll be Fabio in no time,” you promise with a cheeky smile.

“I wanna make you cum,” Eddie replies earnestly. His hands are back on your thighs, smoothing up and down. “I’m so fucking pissed I didn’t make you cum. ‘M sorry.”

“Eddie, don’t be sorry,” you reassure him. You go to kiss him again and he melts, mewling desperately and leaning into the affection. It turns you on so much that this scary, beautiful man is putty beneath you. So much so that you feel yourself growing needy and snake a hand down between you to start playing with your clit.

The friction causes you to squeeze around his rapidly re-hardening cock. He jolts at the feeling.

“What’re you…?” he breaks away to ask you, eyes trailing down to your ministrations. “Oh fuck are you…are you touching yourself?”

“Mhm. You’re making me feel good, Eds. I kinda have to,” you confirm with a chuckle. He watches you for a moment before he slides his hand down your abdomen tentatively.

“Can…can I do it?”

You’re panting a bit at this point. Worked up again from the lack of satisfaction the first time around.

“You wanna?” you ask, kind of hoping he’ll say no so you can get yourself off before he cums prematurely again. You can feel his hips beginning to cant lightly, teasing you with the pressure.

“Please,” he practically whispers and you can deny him so you pull you hand away. What you aren’t expecting is for him to grab it and wrap his lips around your wet fingers. Your eyes blow wide and your pussy clenches around his cock, making him groan around his mouthful.

“Eddie…” you say quietly. He blinks at you before pulling your fingers from his mouth with a pop and reaching down to press his own circles into your clit.

It’s juuuuust off. Another millimeter and you’ll feel great. You roll your hips to try and get him where you need him, but unfortunately the slide of his cock inside of you distracts him, making him freeze up and moan. So you take matters into your own hands, literally, grabbing his wrist and pulling at him so that he’s on the right spot.

“Yeah? Right there?”

He’s seeking genuine reassurance, but your brain hears the questions as dirty talk, making you roll your hips again.

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right there.”

You begin grinding on him in earnest while he continues to play with you. After a few moments you grab his free hand to bring it from your hip to grope your breast. His eyes practically bug out of his head.

“Oh wow,” Eddie says.

You want to laugh at how easy he is. But it’s starting to feel really good, and you’re so pent up at this point you decide just to chase it.

“Say something,” you breathe out. Eddie looks confused.

“Like…like what?”

“Just - fuck. I don’t know. Talk dirty.” You’re doing your best not to ride him fully, because you can see the way all of his muscles are starting to tense. You hope that by giving him a task it’ll distract him long enough so you can cum.

“Uh you’re…you’re just like…so fucking beautiful—,”

“Eds,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s not dirty talk—.”

“So f-fucking beautiful on my cock,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “Want you to cum. You’re so wet, bet you need it so bad.”

Well shit.

Recently de-virgin-ed Eddie had found your weakness and it’s condescension. Your pussy squeezes him and you let out a moan that has him grinning through a hiss.

“You need it, huh? Just desperate to cum, huh baby?”

Baby is a new pet name and you love it. You nod and his finger picks up it’s pace on your clit, his other hand following your earlier lead by playing with and tugging at your nipples.

“Need it, Eds.”

“Oh I need it, too, baby. Shoulda happened the first time, but I need you to feel good now, ok?” There’s a sincerity behind the lightest layer of teasing. He can’t really tease fully. Not when he’s on the brink of cumming again as it is.

But the laser focused eye contact he’s locked you in is doing plenty for you.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Eddie repeats in a hum. His free hand goes to the back of your neck and pulls you down to him so he can grace you with a wet, sucking kiss. He bites your plush lower lip and lets his free hand tighten in your hair.

“Oh god, Eddie,” you whimper against his lips.

“Fuuuuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you like this,” Eddie groans.

You’re basically just cock warming him at this point with a little humping mixed in. But you’re really impatient at this point, so the constant roll of your hips is taking you further than it usually would.

Eddie’s free hand slides from your hair down your back to grab a a handful of your ass. He guides your gyrating hips up and down your cock just that much more and now you’re panting.

“Eddie,” you whine. “I’m close.”

“Holy shit. Seriously?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Clearly shocked.

“Yeah, handsome. You’re fucking me so good.”

You both know it’s an exaggeration. But you’re impatient to cum at this point and eager to praise the beautiful man beneath you. He preens and licks his lips.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Wanna make you feel so good. Please, just let me baby. Wanna…oh fuck…please.” He’s rambling at this point and you know he’s close. You bring your hands to either side of his face, framing his jaw.

“Look at me, handsome,” you breathe. You’re so close at this point. His hazy eyes find yours.

“Baby…” he says, eyelids fluttering. He looks just so absolutely destroyed - that’s what ultimately gets you. That this man is losing his damn mind over you but holding out as long as he can so you feel pleasure.

That pleasure washes over you in that moment, along with a cry of Eddie’s name. You collapse over him and cling to him as your pussy spasms around his aching cock. It blows Eddie’s ever loving mind to feel your body reacting to him so strongly. His last bit of resolve snaps like a fucking twig and suddenly he’s clutching you to him and fucking up into you.

“Baby-oh fuck. Baby, yes. God.” He’s gasping and panting and then his hips are stuttering. He goes still, cumming inside you for the second time tonight.

You’re so full. Two loads of cum and his already oversized cock. But even better is how he holds you. Big arms surround you and keep you grounded against his body, even as twitching aftershocks rock him.

It’s a few moments before you’re properly able to do anything other than relish in the feeling of his overwhelming presence. It’s the persistent ache in your muscles that spurs you into action.

“Eddie…I’ve gotta move…”

“Oh fuck, sorry!” He’s quick to release you, letting you peel yourself from his sweaty skin and gingerly climb off of him. Before you can move any further he jumps up. “Wait let me just…”

He’s back in a moment with a wash cloth - warm, you notice in the back of your hazy mind. He lightly cleans you up, missing the heart eyes you direct his way from the sheer gentleness of his movements.

Eddie is so caring. So sweet and bumbling and eager and awkward and you can’t help but beam back at him when he sends a smile your way. He settles back on the bed with you hesitantly.

“Was that…was that okay for you?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that,” you counter, slapping at his arm. He’s having none of it, though, instead grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“Well I fucking came twice so I don’t think it’s really a question, baby.”

“Hmmm I like when you call me baby,” you coo. You’re a boneless mass of gooey feelings now, encased in Eddie’s arms. The skin around his eyes crinkles and his dimples deepen.

“Oh yeah? You like being my baby?” You don’t miss the way his flush gets deeper but you relish in the newfound confidence in his voice.

“I love being your baby, Eds.”

~*~

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things smut

4K notes · View notes

blublublujk · 4 months

Text

closer

oneshot

word count: 12.7k

genre: step-siblings to lovers, dead dove (proceed with caution)

pairing: dongsaeng jungkook × noona reader

summary:

Jungkook had always known there was something wrong with him when he realized his obsession with his Noona was far too intimate consider their relationship, but she was perfect for him. Can anyone really blame him for falling in love with his beautiful older step-sister?

warnings: [PLEASE READ] dead dove, eat with caution (they are step-siblings and it's a bit romanticized), there's mentions of the pairing as minors but nothing too oversexualized and in detail, mentions of violent behavior (not towards reader), mentions of jungkook possibly being asexual or gay (he's not lol), pairing has shit parents and jungkook's father is an alcoholic, parent issues to the max, petite reader (fit the plot better), explicit sexual content: dirty sexual thoughts, jk has a huge dick and he jacks off so much, someone's a virgin in this and it is NOT the reader, there's a lot of crying in this one, jungkook probably needs therapy and the reader lol, extremely possessive and obsessive jungkook, DADDY KINK, hickeys, unprotected rough vaginal sex, dubious consent but they both want it, dirty talk, the reader slaps jungkook, squirting, blowjob, cunnilingus, come tasting/swallowing, slight ass play, choking, multiple orgasms, passing out and overstimulation, creampie, pregnancy (oopsie)

a.n: well i have no fucking words. im actually a bit shy and embarrassed to release this after my last post but we move on! this wasn’t apart of my drafts either SIGH. wrote this because i was insanely horny and ovulating so have fun ig. please enjoy it nicely. i certainly did. if you look past all the dark stuff you might find it’s actually pretty hot. i cant even believe i wrote this. im really scared … if anyone is crazy enough, please comment your thoughts. tempted to do more of these deranged stories. since tmr is christmas i leave this as a final parting gift for this year though it has nothing to do with chirstmas. byebye angels and merriest of chirstmas to you all <3

—> m.list

—> find me on ao3 & twt

Jungkook has officially hit rock bottom.

He has officially lost his mind. Again and again he comes back to what he knows he shouldn’t and knows that, but he’s only a man after all. Can anyone really blame him?

For the third time that night, Jungkook has fisted his cock empty. The younger’s dick was raw and swollen– sticky from the amount of beatings he had pumped. His ballsack had nothing else more to give him and Jungkook started to grow frustrated. His dick was still heavy in his palm, aching for something he knows he could never fucking have. It simply wasn’t fair.

Jungkook pants loudly, wiping his dirty come all over his black sheets. He’s dripping sweat and he feels his dick might fall off if he keeps masturbating this much, but it was simply impossible. He’s a growing man after all, it was totally normal for him to have such a high libido. His doctor even said so (he asked him during a typical yearly routine exam and the professional confirmed it was more than normal, that usually as he ages he’ll simply grow out of it). Jungkook doesn’t even believe him anymore. The more he fucks his hand, the more he grows the urge to stuff his cock in his step-sister’s tempting pussy.

He knows it’s disgusting. He tried to overcome the disgusting need to fuck her until she begged for more, the compulsive thirst to eat her juicy pussy from behind, the lustful desire to ruin her for anyone else that dared lay hands on his older step-sibling. Jungkook has had too much time to think about these sinful– incriminating thoughts. He imagines how his step-sister would look all heavy and round, carrying Jungkook’s seed for nine months straight. What amazing mother she would be. He thinks about this all the time.

And he’s not just saying this out of his ass. His step-sister saved him. He had one-on-one, firsthand experience to all her angelic glory. She’s patient, extremely caring, and she’s the sweest thing he’s ever known. Jungkook is in love with her.

Can anyone really blame him? His Noona is the best. He’ll say it over and over, a million times until the whole world gets to hear it because his Noona deserves that and much more.

Jungkook believes he’s the only one that could please his Noona. He truly believes that there is no better man in this world for her than him. He doesn’t care how selfish that seems. His Noona has been hurt too many times and Jungkook has unfortunately witnessed it all. Every heartbreak, every break-up, every stupid relationship he has had to tolerate. He falls sick to his stomach every time because he knows she deserves so, so much more and only he could do that for her. He knows how happy he could make her.

After all, only Jungkook knows what is best for her.

Jungkook hears the living room door close hard, the house shakes from the harsh movement. The noise startles him from his current position. He quickly wipes the come off his abdomen and the sweat off his body. He’s sure he probably stinks or at the very least his room does, but the heavy footsteps coming from the stairs worry him more.

“Noona?” He calls out and nobody answers him, by the time he’s shoving on the first pair of sweats he can find his bedroom door opens wide. Jungkook still has sweat dripping down his bare back, praying that it goes unnoticed. He simply got carried away, fucking his cock into his hand for thirty minutes straight.

“Noona…” Jungkook reaches out the second he hears you whimper. The second he has you in his arms you completely let go. Tears stream down your face with no plans on stopping and Jungkook feels his heart break in two. In a way, he feels conflicted.

On one hand, he’s extremely upset about whatever caused you any trouble and he’s willing to do anything to make it up to you. Buy you your favorite ice cream. Take you to watch a movie. Cook you a yummy home meal. He would do anything if it meant he could make you smile again.

But on the other well, Jungkook’s fucking pissed. He needs to know exactly what happened, who fucking did this to you, and how the fuck he even let this happen. He’ll kill whoever did this to you. He will. Jungkook would do anything for his Noona, even if that meant killing someone with bare hands.

“What’s wrong, Noona?” Jungkook’s gentle when asking the question, watching you cry your heart out. The younger rubs circles into your back, comforting you in a time of need. “What happened? Tell me. Jungkookie will help.”

You sob into his chest hard and Jungkook can’t help the way his insides flare. He wants to burn the world down. That way, nobody can harm you and he can take care of you like he’s meant to. Jungkook was born to love and care for you. He feels that deep in his (dark) heart.

“Oh, Jungkookie…” He keeps rubbing circles, desperate to make it all go away for you. His Noona didn’t deserve this.

“I found the messages.” Between hiccups, you cry harder trying to explain the problem. It hurts. It hurts so bad, maybe you’ll never be good enough. For him, or for anyone.

“What messages, Noona?” Jungkook’s nose bumps into yours, cautious doe-eyes stare down at you. Fire lights deep inside them, but they don’t scare you because Jungkook could never hurt a soul. Not your innocent little step-brother. Certainly not your sweet dongsaeng.

“S-Seojun’s.” You have trouble breathing and Jungkook pats your back softly, being extremely patient, but deep inside him, he can’t wait to beat Seojun’s ass regardless of whatever you say next. “He— he cheated on me.”

Jungkook no longer exists in the same universe you do. The first thing he sees is red. Jungkook’s going to fucking murder Seojun. How fucking dare he!

How could he ever cheat on you? Seojun must have a death wish and Jungkook can’t wait to deliver his wish personally. He should cut off each fin—

“Jungkookie… m-my heart hu—hurts.” He snaps out of the dark space in his head and starts drying your tears with his thumbs.

“Noona… he— he doesn’t deserve you.” Jungkook starts, holding you up with a strong grip. He could feel your squishy breast pressing hard against his upper stomach. In a different moment, different situation, he would have popped a boner and it would have been extremely awkward. Jungkook is not small in any sense but he’s a bit insecure. He wonders if you would love the feel of his huge cock invading your guts, but that’s for another time. “I’ve told you this before but you deserve someone that doesn’t make you question their love for you. Someone that loves you so much it could kill them. They should love and care for you so much that they would be willing to do anything for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, Noona. He doesn’t deserve you. Nobody does. They can’t ever love you. They won't. You’re safe here Noona, I love you.”

“My sweet Jungkookie…” You sigh as tears begin to slow down and stick to your face. “That’s right. Only you could ever love me this much I think. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Jungkook snaps. If anything Seojun should be crying buckets, begging for forgiveness and mercy because after Jungkook’s done with him, he’ll regret ever meeting you. Jungkook can’t wait to make the motherfucker pay for his unforgivable crimes. “He’s just a coward. Not a real man.”

“Oh my Jungkookie, when did you become so big? Huh? So grown up.” Your tone wavers as you continue. “You’ve always been such a romantic. Isn’t that right? Noona’s so proud of you Jungkookie, the best dongsaeng I could ever ask for.”

Jungkook melts with every compliment.

When you first met Jungkook, he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He would get so fucking nervous around you. His stomach would flip whenever you stepped into his line of sight. He doesn’t remember a time he didn’t have the biggest crush.

Like anyone else, Jungkook assumed this was nothing but a minor crush. It was his first crush. Jungkook didn’t have experience with girls or dating for that matter. He wasn’t at all interested in any of that. For a cool minute, the younger assumed he must be gay, clearly it was the only explanation that made sense at the time, but then he realized not even then he felt anything. His best friend, Taehyung is extremely gay and pretty handsome (if he must admit), but he could never be with him, much less fuck the man.

His next thought is he has to be asexual. Jungkook didn’t ever think about sex, much less want to participate in any sexual activity. The thought used to disgust him. There was no one worthy. No one he would like to stick his dick into. Jungkook was broken!

Then, his father came home one night, shit-faced couldn’t even hold himself up. Jungkook had to carry him to bed that night. He was only fifteen years old, he had no busy doing that, yet had no choice.

“Son. W-Wan you to meet someone tu—tomorrow.” His father begins, Jungkook winces when he reels him in close, breath stinking of some sort of strong alcohol. “Yu— got you a ma—mother. S-Stepmother.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. He doesn’t need a fucking mother. Jungkook is happy with the way things are right now. Just him and his dad. No matter how broken their relationship is. He doesn’t need a mother.

“Appa, I don’t—”

“Quiet. Shh.” His father ends the conversation with a finger tap to his mouth. Forbidding the younger to get another word out. Jungkook feels he could sob because knowing his father, he was impending doom. “Sleep now child. Come here. Sleep with Appa.”

That night, Jungkook unfortunately sleeps in his father’s bed which reeks of musk and cheap cologne with a hint of mixed perfume. He doesn’t sleep all night, worried that he’ll wake up and his father will have choked during his sleep. He’s afraid that if he turns his head, he’ll find his father dead. Maybe that would have been better. That his father never woke up that next morning. Then he wouldn’t be stuck in the situation he was in today. His father’s at fault.

Jungkook’s father brings his “step-mom” over the next day and Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel. He hates her. He absolutely despises her. Jungkook feels it in his heart that she will completely ruin his life.

Jungkook already has a mom. She died giving birth to him. It’s not her fault. Jungkook’s mom is incredible and he’s heard great stories. Nobody will ever compare to his mother. Even though Jungkook never got the chance to meet her, he knows he would have loved her and she him. In another lifetime, Jungkook would have loved to spend his entire life in the warm arms of his mother.

What he wasn’t expecting was his step-mom to bring company. Jungkook obsesses from the very, very start.

“Jungkook-ah, meet your step-sister, Y/N. She’s two-years older than you. They are moving in with us, so I hope you will be a good dongsaeng to your Noona. We’ll live as a happy family from now on. Ain’t that right, Yeobo?” His father leans in kissing his step-mom with passion. Jungkook thinks if the situation was different he would have thrown up the sandwich he had for lunch, but as he looks up at you, he finds you playing with the ends of your sweater. You’re tiny. He doesn’t believe you’re older than him. You can’t be. Barely seventeen, but you have yet to grow into your lady parts. Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at you. Your lip was swollen from how hard you were sucking it from nerves. This had to be just as difficult for you as well.

With careful steps, you stretch your hand out, making peace with your new step-sibling. “Hello Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you. I promise to be a good Noona. I look forward to moving in. I hope you can accept me. I promise to take good care of you.”

The younger almost falls to his knees. He’s never seen a more beautiful smile. Jungkook takes your tiny hand in his. His hand is bigger than yours, he’s tempted to compare sizes. He’s even slightly taller than you. Jungkook puffs his chest thinking about how he’ll only grow taller. He’ll soon tower over you.

Jungkook doesn’t even say anything to you that night. Not a single word. He can’t. He shakes your hand awkwardly with a deep blush setting on his cheeks. Jungkook promises one thing. He promises to care for you too. That promise stays in his head for now, but Jungkook is certain now. He’s definitely not gay and he isn’t fucking asexual. Not anymore. Not ever.

Since then, it’s like you’ve been attached by the hip. Jungkook grew to become a man. Now twenty-three and you twenty-five. And you grew into a woman besides him.

He was the best dongsaeng you could ever ask for. Jungkook was sweet. He would cry about everything and anything. While trying to get closer to one another and build a bond, you thought it would be a good idea to watch classic romance films. Jungkook would cry to every single one. A true romantic at heart and you, being the best Noona ever, would be there to comfort him. Like you would your own baby brother.

Back then, you used to dream of having siblings, you’re extremely lucky you get to live that with Jungkook. You didn’t mind that he was a big cry-baby, it was endearing that a boy could have so many emotions and show them without holding back.

He was extremely sweet. Jungkook was protective, like any usual brother was. Always looking for ways to watch out for you and even though he was the younger, he took care of you, a lot.

Your mother wasn’t present much. And his father was much worse. They simply weren’t there. Not then, not now. But Jungkook was there. He was the shoulder you could cry on, the person you could run to, the only person you could fully depend on. Jungkook was always there.

Jungkook was very kind-hearted, so innocent and pure. He was never the kind of guy to bring girls home. Talk about sex. You aren’t even sure if he’s ever had a girlfriend or even ever had sex for that matter. He even watches his mouth around you. He doesn’t cuss and he certainly doesn’t act out. He’s a very good boy, the best and kindest dongsaeng.

“Thank you, Jungkookie.” You pull him closer, hands wrapping around his solid back, with a sniffle you question. “You— you’re hot?”

Jungkook blanks, very confused. Were you realizing your love for him? Is this the way it will happen? Jungkook’s not sure he wants it this way. Not after he just helped you get over another man. He hopes this time for fucking good. He cannot bear hearing about Seojun and his stupid face ever again.

“Do you have a fever, Jungkookie? You’re sweating!” You start to pat him all over, trying to measure his temperature with your hand. “Oh no my baby, let’s get you to bed!”

Jungkook nearly awes. You went from having one of your worst days to completely being concerned about his well being. The younger beams in relief, he’s lucky his Noona is clueless. So fucking unaware. Doesn’t even realize the sheets are still filled with his filthy release. All thanks to her beauty.

“I’m okay Noona, you should head to bed. It’s been a long day.” The younger leans in for another hug, a thank you for being so kind.

You keep insisting. “But you’re dripping! You have a fever, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook chuckles with you in his arms. “I worked out before you came home. I didn’t have time to shower. I don’t have a fever, everything’s okay. ”

You fake a gag. “Yuck! Don’t even warn me either! Jungkookie, you’re an animal!”

Oh, if only you knew. :)

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to slip from his arms, only holding on tighter.

“Scared of a little sweat, Noona?” The younger teases with a sly smirk.

“When it's you, yes. Don’t want my dongsaeng’s sweat on me.” Jungkook tries to look past the “when it’s you” because what the hell does that mean? Would you like sweat if it came from someone else? Would you touch him if he was someone else? Would you lick it off if the situation was different? Jungkook swats all those thoughts away. He almost popped a boner and he doesn’t understand how that’s even possible after the day he’s had today. He is done for today, but his dick sadly has a mind of its own.

“Whatever. Go sleep!” Jungkook unfortunately has to let go which is the worst part, but is surprised when you’re blushing against his still, very bare chest, your smaller hand resting on his abs.

“Can… can you come sleep with me Jungkookie?” You get so shy Jungkook has to hold back from babying his own Noona.

Like music to his fucking ears. Of course, he’ll sleep with you. He silently thanks Seojun for being a fucking dumbass. Jungkook’s about to pick up all the pieces he just broke earlier and never, ever give them back.

“Don’t get all shy on me Noona, of course I will! What type of dongsaeng do you take me for?” Jungkook dramatically in offense holds his chest.

“Only the best, my sweet Jungkookie, but go shower first. You reek.” The younger gasps, feigning offense.

“No I don’t!” Jungkook is quick to defend himself, coming close so he could smell his pits. He’s probably smelled better, but he actually doesn’t smell, not that he knows of. If anything he’s surprised his room doesn’t reek of that crappy lotion he uses to get himself off. “See!”

The taller brings you in once more and you push him off hard. “Absolutely not you maniac! Go shower now!”

“Fine!” Jungkook gives up and just as he’s about to retrieve the stuff he’ll need for his shower, he asks. “Your room or mine?”

He silently prays you pick your own because he cannot stand the smell of his own room any longer. Plus you still have yet to notice the come on his sheets. Jungkook would be so embarrassed if you saw his soiled bed like this. His Noona deserves nothing but the best. A clean, comfortable environment. His room was probably a safety hazard right now and he wasn’t willing to risk the chance for conversation.

“Mm, mine!” You decide with a pretty smile.

“Okay, Noona. I’ll be there in five. Don’t wait up for me.” With one last hug and a kiss at your temple, Jungkook goes off to shower and you retreat to your room.

Yes, it was a bit strange. Sleeping with your grown step-sibling and all, but that’s the bond you and Jungkook had grown. The bond was so strong. You guys did just about everything together and by each other’s side. There was never anything super strange about that to you.

Your friends once commented how it was just a bit weird. The strange relationship you carried with your step-sibling and that maybe you were just slightly a bit too close. That made them uncomfortable.

Every time they would come over, Jungkook was just there. Jungkook always came first. They heard it too many times and saw it with their own eyes. When they finally decided to speak to you about it, you freaked saying it was nothing like that! Your relationship was nothing short of platonic, if anything. Jungkook was just your sweet little dongsaeng. Nothing more, nothing less. What was so strange about that?

After that, your friends never brought it up ever again. There was no use. You would never see things in the way they would. It still made them uncomfortable from time-to-time, but Jungkook made you so happy so they kept to themselves for your sake.

Jungkook rushes while in the shower. He scrapes his body clean and practically flies out the shower. Jungkook knows it’s useless right now, but he applies a bit of his costly cologne. Only because he knows you love it so much, you compliment him every time he wears it. Since then, he has bought at least eight more times because he doesn't go a day without wearing the damn scent. He knows you will likely be dead asleep by the time he gets to climb in bed, but he wants it to stick to his skin and last until tomorrow then you will cling and smell the cologne until your nostrils get used to it.

With one last look into the mirror, Jungkook makes it to your room. The younger is obsessed with your room as much as he is with you. Your room smells, tastes, and looks just like you.

Every time you aren’t home, Jungkook practically lives in your room. The amount of times he’s masturbated in this exact bed. Your sheets are incredibly soft, very pink and the best part is you leave your scent all over them. Jungkook smells and smells your honey-like scent until he grows desperate, then he’ll make a mess all over himself, being careful so he doesn’t leak into your sheets. However, sometimes he’ll catch himself leaking all over your stuffed animals. The younger doesn’t even feel bad about it, not one bit. He probably should, he’s disgusting and shameful. For now, Jungkook lives with himself and his rancid thoughts.

When Jungkook gets to your room, he finds you already fast asleep, leaving the left side of your bed open for him. The younger salivates when he sees that your blanket isn’t covering your body, not at all. It’s almost like you’re inviting him, the whole world wants him to fail miserably and you clearly don’t care about his well-being.

By now, Jungkook is used to the way you dress. It kills him inside whenever he watches you walk out the house, perky breasts and that fat juicy ass tempting every walking man alive the minute you step out that front door. When you’re off to bed, you wear these little boy shorts that drive him insane because they cover nothing. Your plump ass falls right out from the stretchy material and Jungkook desperately wishes he could touch and squeeze until his heart’s content, but he would never touch you without your consent. He’s not an animal!

“Kookie?” He hears you slur in your sleep, small grabby hands reaching for him. Jungkook immediately places himself in bed, letting you wrap around his broad, strong figure. Even in the dark, he can see your ass hanging from outside your shorts. You must have gotten hot while waiting for him given that your blanket was nearly kicked down to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t care to pick it up.

And why would he? He’ll keep you warm now.

Jungkook falls asleep with ease that night. His nostrils breathing that sweet scent and your light calm exhales lull him straight to dreamland, where his dreams consist of a love so precious and extremely forbidden.

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up before you, which wasn’t usual at all. He was used to finding you up and running bright and early, cooking him breakfast before leaving to work, like you usually did for him.

Before he even gets to open his eyes, he feels something push up against his stiff morning wood. It’s almost like he feels something constantly rocking against him, little-by-little. Jungkook shoves his erection deeper into the pillow-like sensation, chasing the enticing— irresistible feeling.

Jungkook’s hips start moving on their own accord, pushing and thrusting into the soft feeling of clouds. His morning wood grows tenfold when he hears a quiet whimper. He only drives his cock faster and further into that unknown realm, searching for heavenly release. Cock heavy and aching inside his briefs.

The younger almost jumps out of the bed when he hears the prettiest moan. He’s heard this delightful sound before. Only his Noona has the sweetest of sounds. He hates to admit it, but he’s heard these same moans before. And they didn’t come from his own doing, but Seojun’s. There were nights Jungkook couldn’t catch a wink of sleep because he overheard his step-sister getting fucked for hours on end.

…

“Fuck. Oh my god. Don’t stop.” He would throw his pillow over his head and squeeze, praying the fucking ended soon which it probably did because Seojun was disappointing as fuck. Pathetic fucking punk. He prayed for that or that he suffocated himself to death, either was fine for him. As long as his suffering was put to an end.

You sounded fucking perfect though. Jungkook could admit that easily. His Noona sure had a filthy mouth on her. Jungkook wanted to plug it with his fat cock. He wishes it was him instead and maybe one day it will. For now, he’ll continue dreaming.

“Yeah? Like that?” Seojun would grunt while Jungkook rolled his eyes until they would hit the back of his head. He couldn’t do this anymore. Jungkook knows it’s as easy as bringing it up, but how could he look at his perfect step-sister and say that to her! He simply refuses.

“Yes, like that. Yes please. Fuck, fuck, fuck— nghh!” And Jungkook was truly the worst. He could only hold himself back so much!

Jungkook rips the drawer open in his room, feeling around for lube, lotion fucking anything that will get his dick wet and when he finally finds it, he squirts a considerable amount and starts fisting his slicken cock. He grows thicker in his own hand. Jungkook wonders how his cock would look if it were your hand instead. He moans just imagining the idea.

“Coming.” Seojun’s muffled groans also echoed in his room. He doesn’t know how you do it and to be frank, he wishes Seojun would just shut the fuck up and do his job. The younger smirks knowing he’s struggling, leaving you in disappointment. He’s positive he’s never had his dick wet for more than ten minutes. What a bum! Can’t even please his girl.

Jungkook hears your moans grow louder. He swears he can hear them ringing in his fucking ears. Like you purposely wanna get caught. Jungkook gets too much into his head because he starts growing desperate, nearly coming all over himself.

If the situation was different, Jungkook knows he wouldn’t stop fucking you until you were passed out. It was only fair. You needed a real man, someone who could satisfy you without question. He knows he could do it. Fuck being experienced. Why does someone need all this experience if Seojun is proving that even by being a manwhore that doesn’t guarantee you a happy sex life or jackshit.

Point is, Seojun sucks and Jungkook will imagine it’s him instead of that lame fucker. He’ll imagine it’s him that’s making you feel all those things, that’s making you scream into the pillow. Though if it had really been him, Jungkook would snatch that pillow away from your mouth. He would want to hear every single sound that comes from your pouty mouth. Fuck, Jungkook couldn’t wait for you to be his and only his.

That night, Jungkook came all over his hand, some landing on his face. He wishes you were there to lick it clean.

…

Even in his fucking dreams, Jungkook feels like he can’t catch a fucking break.

His hips still, he doesn’t wanna further embarrass himself by humping into his step-sister’s ass like some horny desperate teenager. Jungkook knew this was a terrible idea, especially considering that he’s had the hardest time keeping his dirty— filth of thoughts to himself. Jungkook didn’t know how much longer he could live without knowing the taste of that perfect little pussy. How snuggly you would fit around his huge cock. He knows you could take him so well, you were made for him after all.

“S okay Jungkookie, ‘s normal. Noona isn’t mad.” The younger pretends to be asleep while he hears you babble in sleep, but you know he isn’t and to save his dignity (and yours) you allow it. Jungkook can’t help, but to think maybe you wanted it too. Was that crazy?

You both fall back to sleep. This time Jungkook gives you a respectful distance so he doesn’t commit the same mistake as before and when he wakes up, you act as if nothing happened and Jungkook appreciates that. He had the absolute best Noona, always looking out for her dongsaeng, no matter the situation.

As the days pass, you and Jungkook spend a lot of time together. Maybe it’s because you are single again or maybe it’s because you just wanna spend time with your (not so) little step-brother.

Jungkook’s the happiest. He no longer has to listen to you talk about Seojun and he gets to spend all the time in the world with you. For some time, he believes things are perfect.

Every night, you fall asleep on his chest. Waking up in his arms and Jungkook falls in love harder. Sometimes he steals kisses while you are sleeping. You wouldn’t mind, right?

He kisses your chubby cheeks, kisses your cute button nose, he’ll even kiss your smaller fingers, one-by-one. He has yet to taste those plump lips, but he doesn’t doubt they don't taste of flowers and honey.

“Jungkookie, you think you could fetch me my shoes? I left them near the closet door.” The younger hears you call out to him and being the good step-brother he was, he snatches your shoes up and starts walking away. It seems you forgot something else because Jungkook snaps his eyes to your phone, which starts buzzing with notifications.

Jungkook knew your password of course, you didn’t hide anything from your baby step-brother and he knows it would be wrong to invade your privacy, but he simply wants to see who it is. There’s absolutely no harm in that!

The taller snatches up your phone, disconnecting it from the charger and he sees red for a minute.

Three missed texts and two missed calls, in bold texts your phone reads, Seojun❤️.

He immediately smashes in your passcode without hesitation and any permission. What he finds is absolutely disgusting. Jungkook feels sick.

Seojun❤️: i miss you baby :( been thinking of that pussy can’t wait to stuff you full soon

Jungkook goes back to the messages from before, his ears are hot. He doesn’t know whether to scream or cry his eyes out.

Seojun❤️: coming over

Asshole doesn’t even ask for permission, just does what he feels is right and that only riles Jungkook further.

Me: don’t can't tonight jungkook's home

Good girl, good Noona. He knew he could trust you, if only this asshole understood that you didn’t need anyone else and left you alone. Jungkook took care of you just fine. Just you and him. Always.

Seojun❤️: that never stopped us before?

Me: jun, please. not tonight.

Seojun❤️: so when? you guys are close again or what? you know how i feel about that guy.

Jungkook’s burning inside. He knows how you feel about him? The fuck was his problem. Jungkook’s tempted to smash your fucking phone in pieces. He’ll buy you a new one and it certainly won’t have this asshole’s number.

Me: he’s not just some guy. he’s my younger brother. of course we are close. soon. i’ll come see you soon.

Seojun❤️: step. step-brother.

Me: what does that have to do with anything jun? he’s like a little brother to me.

Seojun❤️: can he say the same?

What. The. Fuck.

Jungkook was gonna kill this stupid fuck.

Me: don’t talk about him that way. talk to you later.

Seojun❤️: whatever.

Then Jungkook rereads the messages over and over again. He’s fucking fuming. The younger hears the door before he hears you coming.

“Jungkook.” Your voice drowns in his ears. He snaps a mean gaze towards you, your phone is in his hands and he’s shaking. “Oh Jungkookie… I can explain.”

Jungkook throws your phone, landing hard against your bed, it bounces and falls to the floor. You jump in fear, your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly.

“Don’t. I’ve seen it all.” Your step-brother’s voice trembles. His voice is cold and rough around the edges. “How fucking could you Noona?”

You gasp at the sudden use of cuss words. Jungkook doesn’t cuss, not in front of you, not ever. He was a good boy, a very good boy.

“Jungkook, listen—”

“Shut up!” Jungkook snaps harshly. Those doe-eyes turn violent. “How could you!”

“H-He— we were just testing the waters.” You explain with a pout, your tears already threaten to fall. Jungkook isn’t a yeller. He never loses his patience, no matter how upset he could be, but you’ve officially cracked him.

“Testing the waters?” Jungkook ridicules with a dry laugh, eyes rolling. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Y-Yes.”

“You’re back with him.” The younger one says as if it’s a statement. His tone is sharp, dripping of disbelief and hatred. Jungkook scoffs. “I can’t fucking believe you, after everything!”

“Puh— please stop yelling at me.” Jungkook’s eyes soften for a little when he hears your voice shake and eyes dampen with tears.

His voice is still rough as he continues to spew the fire. “You really think he could keep you happy? That he could satisfy you? When will you finally see it, Noona? He’s fucking pathetic. Loser excuse of a man.”

Your pout grows bigger and you start crying softly, embarrassed that the scolding is coming from someone younger, coming from the one person that should be learning from you. Shamefully, you can’t even look him in the eyes, you avoid his sharp gaze and continue crying pretty tears.

Jungkook keeps spitting his words at you and you can’t bear them much longer. “You really think he will ever know what is best for you? That he could provide for you? I bet he—”

“And you do?!” You yell between your blur of tears, feeling like shit.

“I do! I fucking do. Everything I do is for you, for us Noona. I’m here working my ass off to rebuild you and you let him break you over and over! Aren’t you sick of him? Sick of this? Because I am. I fucking am. I hate him and I hate that you let him come between us!” The taller uses his height to his advantage, towering over you while he spews his truth.

“For me? For us?” You speak in disbelief, scoffing and wiping off your tears roughly with your long sleeve. “Jungkook, you speak like we are together! This isn’t normal. The way you care for me, it— it isn’t normal. You should be getting lost in the lights at your age, dating around. I’ve never seen you even speak to another girl besides me! It’s strange! Plus, Seojun… he’s truly the only one that cares for me. Besides you.”

Jungkook explodes. The taller tugs you towards him, a strong hand on your throat while he squeezes mercilessly. You immediately wrap your hands around his wrists, trying to shove him off, but Jungkook’s much taller, much stronger than you are. It’s no use, the more you pull, the more he tightens his hold. You struggle to breathe, hiccuping dry tears.

“I really tried to do this your way Noona. I tried to be patient and do this at your pace, but you’re fucking clueless. I love you. Don’t you see it? Of course I care. I’ve always cared. I’ve loved you since the very first day. I tried to overcome these emotions but the more I denied them, the stronger they became. I let them consume me. I’ve never been more at peace, but I can’t stand here and watch you ruin yourself any longer. I can’t. You and Seojun are done. Do you understand?” Jungkook’s hand is still on your throat and you just nod desperately, hoping that he lets go some time soon.

You should have known, should have seen it coming. People warned you, at least, they tried. You wouldn’t listen and refused to believe it (or see it). Jungkook wasn’t a bad person, he still isn’t. He’s just confused and young. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s not in love it’s just fascination, yeah, you’ll say that for now because it makes you feel better. Not because you definitely feel something splur in your own (tainted) heart.

“Good baby, good. I never wanna see, hear, or know anything about that stupid fuck ever again.” Jungkook loosens his grip a bit and you immediately take a gush of breath. “He’s not good for you. Never will be. You deserve so much more Noona, isn’t that right?”

Between a few tears, you keep nodding.

“Yeah, only Daddy knows what’s best for you. Right?” The younger one doesn't even blink when saying the words. For a second, you think about who he is referring to as daddy, but then you realize. This was so fucking wrong, and yet you feel yourself slipping already. Maybe he was right. What’s the point of denying it? “Only I could ever love you the way you deserve to be loved. Uh baby?”

You nod with a muffle cry.

“Speak.” Jungkook orders. “Tell Daddy that he’s right. Let me hear it.”

“Y-Yes Daddy.” He hears you sweetly comply and even through a blur of tears, you see him smiling down at you.

“Good, good girl. Now, give Daddy a kiss baby.” Jungkook leans down and you hesitantly meet him halfway. The kiss is very sweet considering the pressing situation. Jungkook curls his lips around yours like there’s nothing off or wrong about this situation. He doesn’t seem to mind this at all, like he’s been dying to get to do this with you. You don’t know whether to be happy about that idea or fall sick to your stomach. Either way, you continue to kiss him.

The taller pries your mouth open with his tongue and you allow him access, pouty lips slack. Jungkook sucks and licks into your mouth, greedily tasting the juices on your tongue. His tongue clashes with your messily, spit mixing in the process. It's dirty and filthy. And it is extremely wrong.

You feel so guilty because you’re the older one of the two. You should be the one putting a stop to this, but the more his tongue explores your mouth, the more you dip into the dark— alluring abyss.

“Been dying to do that.” Jungkook breathes into your lips savoring the taste of your salty tears and cherry chapstick in his mouth. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited.”

You whimper quietly and the younger soothes you in his arms. “W-We shouldn’t, Jungkook, not yu—you.”

His smile wavers for a second. “Don’t be scared, Noona. Who else other than me huh? Who can love you like I love you?”

You close your sad eyes to imagine what would have happened if you just came to grab your shoes yourself, wishing you had done that instead. You would have seen your phone and picked up the call instead. This was so wrong. With a deep sigh, you let the darkness consume you too.

“I love you, Noona.” Jungkook whispers, his eyes awfully speaking the truth.

“I-I love you too.” The taller smiles and kisses you once again, this time you don’t even fight it. You don’t hesitate. You take time to enjoy the feel of his lips moving passionately against yours and let yourself be loved. For once, you feel loved and that’s enough for you.

Jungkook takes your cheeks in his calloused hands and starts kissing everywhere. Leaving his trace all over your face. He kisses your nose, your forehead, your lips again. Jungkook brings his nose across your jaw, leaving little pecks here and there. When he reaches your neck, he starts licking and sucking every inch of sensitive skin, hoping to leave his marks behind.

The younger is satisfied when he sees the dark spots he’s left to beautifully decorate your skin.

“Open.” He taps two fingers against your mouth, wrapping his other hand around your neck and you slightly slack your jaw on command. Jungkook shoves those two fingers into your mouth, pushing them down against your wet compliant tongue. He watches you struggle to take them further, gagging a few times around his sloppy fingers. Jungkook was right, you look so fucking good when something is fucking your mouth. “So good for Daddy.”

Whining against his fingers, Jungkook pulls them out. Cock already feeling tight and heavy inside his pants. He couldn’t wait to get out of these and you weren’t doing any better. You could feel slick start to dampen your panties.

“So pretty, Noona. The prettiest.” Jungkook starts to kiss you again. It starts off a bit slow, but there’s hunger in the way he looks at you. He’s waited so long for this moment, he doesn’t wanna hold back any longer. The younger wants to let it all go tonight. It’s only right. There’s no more hiding, no more secrets. Jungkook was gonna claim what was so rightfully his.

“J-Jungkookie, maybe we should–” The taller licks into your mouth before you can continue and you grow really desperate, feet shuffling from nerves. You need to stop this before it gets any further, before it gets to the point of no return. “Wuh-we should s-stop.”

Jungkook ignores you. He sucks and bites your bottom lip into his mouth and you’re starting to lose sense of everything so quickly. Suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is at your throat again, but he doesn’t squeeze it. He just holds it, kisses around your face with gentle movements. “You have the nerve for sure Noona, don’t you think you owe me an apology. Huh baby?”

“I– I’m sorry.” Jungkook would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on the way you quickly adapted and complied.

He shakes his head, squishing your cute cheeks together, tempted to kiss them both and he does after he’s done speaking. “That simply won’t do. Think that’s enough for everything you’ve done to Daddy? For all the hurt you caused? Get on your knees baby.”

And what else can you do, but drop on your fragile knees. The second your knees hit the hard, cold floor, you whimper in pain.

“Hurts? Here, my love.” Jungkook awes with empathic doe-eyes, without hesitation he reaches for one of your softest pillows and places it down below your knees, helping you onto the comfortable cushion. “Better?”

It is shocking and not at the same time, how quickly Jungkook seems to be okay and fine with this whole thing. If it’s true that he’s been dying to do this for years then in a fucked up way, it kinda makes sense, but it doesn’t change the fact that you guys are family, on paper and in every way that it matters. Your parents are married for fuck’s sake.

“Yes.” You simply respond and Jungkook smiles contentedly.

“Yes what?” He asks, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You hesitate, but end up giving in. Does it even really matter anymore? The deed had been done. You fucked yourself over the second you let him take control of the situation. Jungkook owns you. “Yes Daddy.”

Jungkook towers over you, thick muscular thighs stand tall before you. He hums satisfied with your response. “Open up wide for Daddy.”

The taller has quick hands on his belt, snatching it off himself. Then he pulls his jeans down and tosses them aside without care. He keeps his briefs on for now. Jungkook needs to have you work for it, just a bit. It’s his right after all.

“Pull my dick out.” He rasply orders and you gulp at the sight. He’s packing, you can’t even see it yet, but you are sure the real thing is not much different. Your hands shake as they come up to the waistband of his boxers. You’re about to see your baby step-brother’s cock and you don’t even seem bothered enough to care.

Carefully, you pull them down slowly, revealing inch-by-inch. The tip of his dick pops out first, his slit already dripping pre-come. You practically salviate, gums aching to feel the weight of it on your tongue. Jungkook swears he might fucking burst all over your face before he even gets to stick it in. Though he hates Seojun’s guts, he kinda gets it now. Your soft touch on his sensitive girth nearly makes him shiver.

To be fair, it is Jungkook’s first time! He’s never, ever done this before. He saved himself for the only person that deserved to have him. It was easy for him actually. There was not a damn person that made or could ever make him question his choice. He knew from the very beginning, it was you or no one else.

Jungkook would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit terrified. He doesn’t wanna ruin this whole thing, he’s seen plenty of videos online, mainly through Twitter courtesy of Taehyung. Jungkook is extremely grateful. Seriously, he doesn’t know what he would have done without him. He doesn’t trust much people, but when he confessed at his grown age of twenty-two that he was still a virgin during a night of mixed drinks, Taehyung simply brushed it off and told him there was nothing wrong about that!

Taehyung understood him to some degree. Sex is an intimate experience and you should only ever share it with the people who you truly love, but he was a manslut, through-and-through, so he couldn’t comprehend how Jungkook has lived so long without it. Major respect and props to him, but Taehyung could fucking never.

Either way, Taehyung would send clips here and there as pointers to what some people could possibly like and enjoy during sex. Jungkook took plenty of mental notes, he was beyond ready. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but now that he has you right where he wants you, he’s shaking inside. He doesn’t know how sex workers do this on the regular.

Finally, his dick is out, the whole nine-inch monster and you don’t even have the ability to face him anymore. His cock weighs heavy on your smaller hand. It’s the perfect fit, Jungkook thinks.

With a shallow swallow, Jungkook tugs your head toward it. His tip leaks a bit and Jungkook hopes you don’t notice that he has no clue what he’s doing. After watching porn for so long, he can only hope that everything he’s doing so far is pleasurable for you both.

“Lick it.” He says, voice rough and you do as told.

Cautiously, your pink tongue slips out and experimentally starts licking. The second your moist tongue is on his cock, Jungkook’s guttural moan escapes his throat.

This was gonna be much harder than he thought, but Jungkook’s been practicing. Jungkook is determined to last longer than any other fuck you’ve ever had. He’s determined to be the best and show you exactly what you’ve been missing, wasting all that time on stupid fucks that could never please and love you the way he could.

“Open wider baby, yeah just like that.” Along with the tip of his cock, Jungkook shoves his thumb inside. Your mouth is so wet and warm, taking him exactly how he imagined you would. The younger wonders how much more you could take.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now.” With one last warning, Jungkook plants his feet firmly and thrusts himself deep, causing you to gag so prettily around him when the tip hits the back of your throat.

Clearly, you aren’t used to taking so much cock at once, Jungkook supposes he could go easier on you. But do you really deserve that from him?

Jungkook doesn’t think so.

So he fucks into your mouth harder and faster, his thumbs cleaning the tears that run down your face. Jungkook doesn’t hold back any sounds, he moans roughly when you suck a bit harder on it like you want it to hurt him. Good thing Jungkook likes the pain. It’s why he tatted himself so many times. Jungkook embraces everything, even punishing pain.

“Easy with your teeth baby, don’t wanna hurt Daddy, do we?” The younger is a bit taken back when he sees you nod furiously, mouth full of cock, struggling while taking him deeper. God, you truly do look the best this way. “Oh? How will Daddy fuck you then silly?”

You whine muffles with his girth down your throat, secretly rolling your hips on the pillow, rubbing friction against your clothed sex.

“Huh? What’d you say?” Jungkook teases as he continues to brutally fuck your sloppy mouth, spit leaking down your chin. “I can’t understand you. Sorry!”

But he’s not sorry, not one bit! He practically eats you alive with his eyes, feeling the heat start to form in his stomach. Jungkook’s ready to come.

He forces you to deepthroat him with a ruthless thrust, pushing your head down on his length, as far as you could go. Jungkook doesn’t dare let go until your eyes water beyond control and he doesn’t hear you breathe through your nose. When he releases the tight grip on your head, you are desperately breathing heavily, coughing spit.

“Puh—Please.” Your voice breaks. Jungkook looks down and almost feels bad, you look a mess. Pretty little mess. “N-No more.”

He considers it, but he won’t let you go that easy. “Make me come, then you can beg for mercy after.”

Even after all this, Jungkook’s words surprise you. How? How was it fucking possible? For so long, you believed Jungkook was a certain person, a kind-hearted, romantic sweetheart. In a way, he still is. Jungkook truly believes that this was meant for him. That his whole purpose was to be yours. He never showed this side of himself ever and maybe that’s why it terrifies you. How much is he capable of and how much are you willing to give up for him?

Jungkook throws his head back and moans loudly when you start sucking with purpose, your intentions set clear. He’ll come within seconds if you continue like this.

You don’t let up. If he wants to come, he will. You suck down hard, taking his cock as far as your throat allows. There’s no need to lie, Jungkook tastes and even smells amazing down there. You’ve always known he’s been a clean freak, but he really does take care of himself well.

Gargling him down, Jungkook starts to whine and slow down his pace, but you continue your menacing behavior, sucking him off the way you imagined he would like it. And Jungkook starts seeing stars. He knows that after this, he’ll never want to not do this. This was much, much better than fisting his own cock. You’ve completely ruined him.

“I— I’m gonna come.” Jungkook says and almost immediately comes, bursting his release inside your mouth. “Swallow it.”

There’s no doubt that you won’t. You continue sucking until he’s completely empty and swallow him down.

Jungkook’s eyes are unrecognizable. Not that he looks any different besides his fucked out state, but they are so sharp and dangerously sexy. “Show me.”

You stick your tongue out as far as you can and show him how nicely you’ve cleaned up after him, Jungkook could come again.

Once he’s satisfied, his rough voice booms. “Come here.”

You stand on two feet, your cunt is surely dripping because you feel your panties sticking to your folds. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take you back in his mouth, not bothered one bit about the fact that you just swallowed his semen. He licks into your mouth like he’s famished, tasting himself on your tongue. Jungkook doesn’t know how he will survive without this now.

“Lie down. On your stomach.” Even though you’ve pretty much gone as far as you can with this, you still hesitate. Maybe it's your guilt or maybe it’s because you are liking this much more than you should, that you still comply even when you shouldn’t.

Your pillow gets left and forgotten where it currently sits and you lay down, stomach pressing into the mattress. Jungkook pats your head and you nearly purr.

“Lift yourself up baby.” Jungkook’s so fucking hard still, he doesn’t get how this is possible. Staring at your perfect petite figure, he starts to get it. “Gonna take these off now.”

Jungkook slowly tugs on your shorts and you shake your head, stopping him once again, your hand flies to his wrist. “N-No.”

“Don’t make me tie your hands Noona, be good for me pretty.” And once again, Jungkook wins. You don’t see yourself winning any time soon. “Gonna undress you now, keep those precious hands away from me for now.”

Repeating his actions from earlier, Jungkook pulls down your shorts and your ass falls right from out the lousy material.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, taking in the view as you whimper softly. Your ass is even better, almost bare, your fat pussy peeks through your thin panties. He runs his finger along where your slit should be, feeling your slick dampen his fingertip over the fabric, moaning quietly. The large wet spot on your soiled panties, told him all he needed to know, you wanted this just as much as he did.

With his index finger, he curls his finger along your waistband and brings your panties off as well and the sight doesn’t disappoint. Jungkook licks his dry lips and starts to get to work.

The younger spreads your folds into a “V” and sticks his nose so far into your glistening cunt without warning. Jungkook starts to eat you out like never before and you crumble, moaning and squealing against the feeling of his perfect lips munching on your dripping pussy.

The taller doesn’t let you get any further, heavy-hand on your hip while he keeps you in place. He slurps your sweet slick into his mouth, swallowing down every drop greedily without any fucking plans on stopping soon. Jungkook has found his purpose.

Jungkook was made to eat your fat juicy pussy. There wasn’t anything better than this. Not even the blowjob felt as good as this is making him feel. Jungkook knows that it has nothing to do with your skills or anything of the sort, but because he loves the way you push and pull away from him. The more you run, the more he feels like chasing. He’s addicted to the strangled sounds that escape your lips, crying out loudly against your will. It was perfect!

You squeal when you feel him suckle on your sensitive bud, playing with it between his teeth. He’s almost tempted to bite, but he’s hurt his baby enough. “S good Noona, tastes like candy.”

His words vibrate inside your cunt and you already feel your climax coming in heavy. He was gonna drive you insane!

“Please… oh my god. Please. I can’t.” You swear you feel Jungkook smiling even as he’s eating you out, nose deep inside your cute little cunt. Guess that answers his question, you are definitely enjoying yourself way more than you should.

“You can baby, you fucking will.” He nearly growls into your folds, licking and eating everything he could swallow like a madman. Jungkook didn’t wanna stop until you had nothing more to give, until your pussy stopped oozing out that sweet essence. But it seems the more he licks, the more that squirts out!

Jungkook doesn’t mind though, not at all, not even one bit. He’ll eat your pussy until it kills him.

“Ohhhh, nhmmm fuck. I- Daddy, I’m cominggg.” He hears your fucked out slur and sucks harder on your clit, lapping at all the juices that kept drizzling down. He’s surprised to hear you call him Daddy, he didn’t ask you to, but you were so good for him either way. Jungkook didn’t need to ask anymore, you were so far gone to care about anything else when his tongue kept slipping inside your messy hole.

“Come on my tongue baby. Come for Daddy.” With a strangled cry you come and Jungkook feels the second you explode, because your pussy almost flushes out everything it can give him. He sucks it all up though and doesn’t stop until he feels you trembling under his touch, barely holding up. “Good, so good for me baby. God, I love you.”

Jungkook tosses his shirt aside because he’s grown super hot and looks down at your fucked out figure. All he did was eat pussy, imagine what else he could do with that humongous monster cock he drags around.

He didn’t fail to notice how pretty your tiny hole was from behind, both of them. Jungkook wanted to eat your ass too, but maybe that was for another time, when he gets the pleasure to focus on one at a time.

“Turn around for me baby.” The younger one softly speaks.

There’s a bit of a struggle, but you land on your back successfully and whine when you see his bare figure. Jungkook’s worked his ass off to get it. He’s so strong and shredded, but nonetheless, the sight of his sculpted body makes you drool nearly every time.

“Gonna put it in now.” The way he says it throws you off, he seems a bit embarrassed, shy maybe? And it doesn’t make sense because not even seconds ago, the younger was so confident about every little thing he was doing to you, ruining you entirely for anyone else.

“W-Wait.” You rush, pushing your hand against his chest. Jungkook freezes in place, his hand already wrapped around his cock. “Condom?”

And like that, he snaps again, those once innocent doe-eyes turn dark again and you regret even reminding him. “We won’t be needing that silly Noona, I’m gonna fuck a baby into you and you’re gonna be the perfect Mommy. Won’t you?”

You wanna shake your head so bad, your mind is screaming at you to say no, to fucking stop him before it’s too fucking late, but your body speaks for you. Your pussy keeps leaking your arousal and you can’t believe your reality. You want it so bad, you don’t really care what comes with the consequences of your actions. If your step-brother wants a baby, well then…

“Isn’t that right Noona? You’ll be the perfect Mommy.” Jungkook’s voice sounds sinister and you can barely recognize the person he is. “Daddy will take care of you both. Don’t you want that? Huh my love?”

With sick, deranged thoughts in your head, you slowly nod in agreement and Jungkook scrunches his nose into a sweet, kind smile. “Of course you do. You're the best Noona. Gonna fuck you now okay?”

You nod again. This time, you pry your legs open for him. Letting him use you the way he wants and needs. Jungkook licks his lips and takes his heavy cock in hand. Before he lines it up, he spits perfectly along his length, coating his dick all around so it could slide in without further complications and then he pushes the tip inside.

The minute you feel the intrusion, just the fucking tip, you gasp loudly, trembling into his surprisingly gentle touch.

“C-Can’t. Won’t fu—fit.” You say breaking between whimpers.

Jungkook’s gaze is dark and heavy on you and he gets right into your face when he whispers the next words. “Oh but you will. You already did.”

Just as you are about to question him, in one powerful blow, Jungkook thrusts himself all the way inside your tight velvety-walls and you run away from his hold.

And like always, there’s no point. Before you realize it, Jungkook’s pulling out and ramming back inside you. Doesn’t even seem bothered by the painful whines coming from your lips, his eyes are too focused on the way his cock disappears into your perfect pussy.

There was no better way to lose his virginity, Jungkook thought. This was exactly what he’s been fucking missing all his life.

The pain simmers eventually and it starts to feel overwhelmingly good. Your pained whimpers turn into high-pitched cries and Jungkook sticks his face into your neck, moaning roughly against your ear while he continues to work his way into your walls.

Jungkook will never, absolutely never, go back to his fists. The heat, natural slick, and tightness. His fists don’t even come close.

Skin is clapping on skin, brutally setting a rapid pace. His dick is so sensitive right now, he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long. Jungkook doesn’t even know how fucking long it’s been. Or if your guy's parents will come home soon. He doesn’t even give a fuck. You are his.

His to fuck. His to play with. And his to love.

“Gonna come so deep inside this pussy. Gonna make sure you end up swollen and pregnant once I’m done with you. Noona’s so tight.” He breathes heavily into your neck, sweat dripping from the younger.

His words start to rile you up for some reason. Do you even get a fucking choice? The dicking is almost that good you let yourself fall for a few seconds, allowing Jungkook to fuck into you like some fuck-doll.

Without thinking, you reach for his fluff of sweaty hair and tug. Hard. When he comes up to question you, you slap him so hard that his face snaps towards that direction.

Jungkook’s merciless pounding stills.

For a moment, all you hear is heavy breathing, yours mixed with his. It takes Jungkook a while to look back at you and when you do dare look into his eyes, all you see is dark, dark lust. Lots of it.

Jungkook pulls you in roughly from your throat for a bruising wet kiss. His cock slips from inside you and you whine into his mouth at the loss. You already want him back inside, you took it for granted.

The taller chuckles dryly, almost too sexy for his own good when he catches you grinding your folds desperately against his wet length. “Baby already misses Daddy’s dick. This is how it’s gonna be huh? Okay. I’ll play by your rules baby, don’t fucking say I didn’t warn you.”

You don’t even get the chance to catch your breath when you are already pressed face down into the mattress. Jungkook parts your fat ass, slides his cock between them and teases your sweet little hole menacingly.

Jungkook slaps his cock down a few times, the whole nine inches, right onto your dripping folds. They practically were screaming for attention and not to worry, Daddy was home. Slick would stick to his cock, maybe he should make you lick him clean.

“Why?” The younger one hears you crying softly.

“We’ve been over this Noona, only I’ll ever love you how you deserve to be loved. Stop worrying so much. Want you to come on Daddy’s cock. We’ll talk after m’kay?” Jungkook reasons and stabilizes the situation like if you have any choice in this and as if this wasn’t absolutely sick. “Let me take care of you Noona.”

The choice was made before you even realized it.

“Okay… but don’t— don’t come inside Jungkook. I’m not on birth control.” Seojun would always make use of a condom, you forgoing those hormonal-consuming pills. You don’t get to see this, but the younger one smiles wide like if you just gave him the green light. What you don’t know doesn’t harm you. One day, Jungkook thinks.

“Okay Noona, whatever you say.” Jungkook spits on his cock one last time before he carefully pushes back inside. The prodding feeling still leaves you in between sharp gasps and painful whines, ripping right through you.

“Oh my god… Jungkook- too big.” You grab your closest pillow nearly tearing through the thin fabric, using it to have something to tug and bite on.

“Yeahhh, but Noona takes it so well.” Jungkook moans when he feels you squeeze hard around him, basically watching your asshole wink at him too. “Fuck baby, maybe I should fuck this tiny hole too.”

You whimper when you feel his thumb brushing against the fluttering muscle, back arching into the frail sensation. “Mff—no please, I’ve n-never done it. Please.”

“Okay. Not today baby.” Not today or ever again you hope. You pray that whatever is happening today starts and ends today, but for now, you settle for that answer.

But the second Jungkook’s thumb leaves your delicate asshole, he grips onto the fat of your ass cheeks and starts mounting you from behind like an animal. The stretch still burns, not used to taking so much at once, but he can tell when it starts feeling equally as good for you because you squirm on his cock like a worm. He watches you pull away from him, but he’s gripping you hard, feeling that ass bounce back on him. Jungkook curses when he hears you start moaning into your pillows.

“Nu-uh, wanna hear it.” He pulls you by your throat, your back flushing against his sweaty rising chest. In this position, he’s reaching deeper inside your cunt, g-spot being constantly abused.

“Fuck-k-k, oh fuck —nghh.” Jungkook practically soaks in every noise that comes from your mouth, hips clapping hard into your ass. He takes the time to enjoy this, squeezing the fat that jiggles. Maybe he’ll convince you next time to let him fuck your tight ass. After all, he knows Noona could never say no to her sweetest dongsaeng.

The younger sucks more hickeys onto your skin, anywhere that he can really. Jungkook sucks one on the side of your neck, shoulder, and your back. He’s obsessed. Tomorrow he shall do the exact same thing, he’ll keep you on his cock forever now that he knows what it is like. Taehyung was so right. Sex was amazing.

“Let me hear you Noona, think I’ll come just like this.” Jungkook moans roughly in your ear as he continues to pump your walls full of cock, pussy dripping buckets around his length.

You let out moans like water, feeling his dick destroy your insides, he must have rearranged your guts by now. “Think—think m’ gonna come Daddy.”

Jungkook smirks, grabbing your chin roughly and kisses you sloppily, including tongue and all. He loves the sound of his name and title from your pouty, gasping mouth. “Fucked you so good baby doesn’t know if she’s coming or not. Daddy’s the best, isn’t he?”

“Ye–yeah Daddy.” You slur in a trippy haze and just like that, you’re dropped into the sheets again, and flipped with ease in his hold. Jungkook’s dick surprisingly doesn’t even slip out and you don’t know if you moaned again because of the feeling of his dick impaling your pelvic walls or because he can toss you around like some rag doll and have his way with you. Daddy’s the strongest.

Either way your moans are like sin, high pitched whimpers and incoherent mumbles coming from your plump lips like hushed prayers. “Gonna come Daddy, ‘m gonna come ‘s hard.”

“It’s okay baby. Come on Daddy’s cock. I got you.” Jungkook goes feral when he sees the way you practically convulsate on his dick, squirting all over yourself. He’s only ever seen this on those shitty videos Taehyung sends him and he warned him that it wasn't an easy thing to do, not unless done right and when the other person is really into it. Jungkook’s flying over the moon right now knowing that he’s the reason why you can’t help, but squirt messily all over his cock. “Perfect. Noona’s perfect.”

The taller grips your thighs for support, fucking you through your intense orgasm until your inner thighs are all covered in your silky juices, being pounded into overestimation. Jungkook is really close himself and he knows nothing would compare to coming deep inside your walls, but he should respect his Noona��s wishes, at least this once.

“Where should I come baby? Huh? Tell me.” Sweat accumulates on his forehead, dripping loads of it. Jungkook’s thighs burn from the same constant movement, practically bunny jackhammering into your pussy. He never imagined such a practice could be so tiring, he doesn’t even have to go work out tonight!

By this point, you are in and out of consciousness. Jungkook hasn’t stopped splitting you in two, your aching everywhere, but the feeling is mind-blowing. Not even Seojun could make you feel this good, not anyone.

You were in doubt. Jungkook had to have been experienced by the way he fucked. There’s not enough stamina to fuck the way he does. Jungkook’s a beast and he fucks like one too, using your cunt like a toy he can stick his dick into. Your pussy is stretched in ways unknown to man, perfectly molding around his cock, squeezing him in all the right ways. The more you feel his cock pressing into your pelvic floor, the more you start to realize, Jungkook belongs right here. Where he has been.

“Tell me baby. Want Daddy to come all over your pussy, give you a little facial? Tell me— fuck!” Jungkook’s pants grow hot and heavy, his orgasm approaching him hard. His cock is sensitive to the max, but he doesn’t stop, fucking you relentlessly through it all.

Another realization hits within that moment. It’s already gone to the point of no return. You’ve sucked your baby step-brother off and let him drop his seed in your mouth. He’s kissed and licked every part of your pussy, like any good boy would. You’ve let your dongsaeng use your most intimate parts for his own personal pleasure and the worst part is you’ve actually enjoyed it all. Selfishly, you decide he’s the only one that could ever be right for you. Jungkook had been right all along, he was made for you.

“Inside Daddy, wan— you inside.” Jungkook’s hips freeze as he hears you plead so prettily, tears streaming down your flushed face. God, he almost busts the moment he hears your honey-like voice begging for his release. “Please Daddy. Come inside muh— Noona’s pussy.”

“Yeah, want me inside baby?” He goes back to thrusting, but this time it’s slower, more precise and spot-on, deeper. You’ve completely lost awareness of time as well and maybe a sense of who you were to him. Jungkook fucking you senseless and watching you fall deeper into the heat of haze with no remorse or regret. After this, there was no more to discuss, you were completely his.

“Yeah— yeah wan it Daddy. Want it.” Jungkook happily complies, knowing you would come around if he just fucked you good enough to forget that you were off that horrid pill and that he could plant his ssed in your fertile little pussy and give you his child to bear.

His brows furrow as he concentrates on the mess between your legs, it’s beautiful and all his fucking fault. He wants to bury his head into it, but first, he’ll come deep inside that swollen pussy and finish you off. Jungkook takes a moment to adjust and starts jackhammering your cunt again, this time his only purpose is to plant his seed as deep as it can go, claiming even the most sacred parts. Birth control be fucked!

Jungkook’s thrust grow sloppy by the minute and you don’t know how much longer you can take until he’s fucked you completely faint. Mouth starting to feel parched, Jungkook attaches his lips to yours, kissing you through rough strokes. He devours your lips like honey and feels you start to clench around him again. He feels a little gash of juices trinkle along his slit and Jungkook realizes he’s made you come again by the way your walls clench around his cock.

“Fuck baby, Daddy’s gonna come inside now.” All you can do is nod between blacking out, not wanting to waste his precious, healthy come.

With one last growl, Jungkook’s coming deep. The last thing you remember is the heavy weight of Jungkook’s cock twitching and releasing the milky substance across your plushy warm inviting walls.

—-

“Hey honey, how was work today?” Your voice is soft and light as petals while you watch the food come to a boil on the stove, whisking it around and adding a bit more salt for taste while you wait for your husband’s response.

“Fine baby. Had a long meeting with one of our staff members about missing numbers, but the problem was taken care of.” Your husband’s voice is manly and smooth all around, almost husky-like. He goes to kiss your delicate cheek, watching your eyes flutter as he wraps hulky arms around you, bringing your back flush to his front. “Hope you haven’t been on your feet all day, my love. You should be resting, my love.”

You smile at your caring husband, enjoying his musky scent and broad body. “Of course not babe, I’m almost done with the stew. Help me grab a bowl?”

“Mm.” Your husband hums and retreats to grab a bowl from a cabinet that is far too high for your reach with a quick pat to your ass, giving it a quick squeeze. “This one okay baby?”

“Yeah!”

The taller comes back with the empty bowl and you are quick to serve the steamy stew into the dish, always making sure your husband comes home to a warm homemade meal after his long days at work. He watches you from afar admiring the beauty and power his precious wife holds.

You barely had time to pamper yourself today, but you managed to clean up well. Your hair was in a beautiful half-up half-down pony with the cutest white bow attached. Your makeup was perfect, a little bit of everything to fix the small imperfections you saw in the mirror earlier. And the most perfect little flowy dress with flowers decorating the material to fit your current body shape. You were absolutely perfect. An angel drawn to Earth.

“You’re so beautiful baby.” Jungkook whispers into your ear, tickling your neck with his cool breath. “Smell so good.”

“That’s the food.” You both laugh a bit, a hand cupping your swollen stomach pressing himself against your back-end yet again. The feeling was alike anything. He was starting a whole new life alongside the center of his entire world. Jungkook was the happiest he could ever be.

“Nu-uh, that’s all you. Although, the food does smell impeccable. My tastebuds are craving for something else. Can’t wait to eat you—”

“Stop!” Jungkook laughs as you wack his hands away from your belly and continue to serve his bowl full.

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook takes his bowl and waits for you at the dining table, you follow closely behind and sit beside him. “Thank you, Noona.”

You don’t get to hear that word often these days, mainly because it reminds you both of your previous relationship, but the younger one lets it slip from time-to-time, still as sweet as before, always by your side and doing his absolute best to please and look after you and the new addition.

Coming from a broken family, Jungkook never imagined a life could be so simple and beautiful. Lately, Jungkook’s life is like a movie. He can’t believe this all belongs to him, what more can a man ask for. He has the kindest, most beautiful wife and she bears his healthy infant in her huge pregnant tummy. He owns a huge house, working his ass off to get it and established himself pretty early in his career, buying his wife only the best of things. Jungkook settled only for the best and he found that besides you, a true happily ever after, if you will.

The rest is simply history, unimportant through your eyes. The only thing that mattered now is that you were both happy and extremely loved.

The end!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x noona #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x y/n #jungkook smut #dead dove do not eat #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

THEODORE NOTT- Little Star

Theodore Nott is an absolute fucking daddy👅 (Those eyes like if you don’t let me syd rn I s2g)

Tags: fluff, fwb, heartbreak, lovestory, passionate kissing, first time saying i love you, angst

“Theodore fucking Nott…”

His eyes darkened, transitioning to a shade of obsidian so intense they singlehandedly put the stormy midnight skies to ineffable shame; stoically crossing his arms over his chest as he mentally prepared to be torn to absolute fucking shambles after you’d found yet another reason to be mad at him.

“Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” You hissed, trying to hide the pain in your tone and replace it with some form of sarcasm. “Pansy Parkinson?”

Your throat was dry, anger flowing through your veins like fire as you paced the sparse length of his dorm room, the echoes of your shoes scuffing off the hardwood floor being the only sounds bouncing off the walls in the tension filled silence as you remained quiet for a moment, hands threading through your hair and scraping against your scalp as though you were trying to make it bleed.

“I can’t believe you almost canceled on me for Pansy Parkinson…”

Theo remained silent, letting out a slow breath from his lungs as he shifted his weight onto his other foot, leaning against the edge of his desk as he watched you pace, choosing to remain silent until you’d at least somewhat tired yourself of your anger towards him.

Theo knows you well enough by this point to know that when you’re like this, it’s absolutely pointless to try and intervene. He knows that if anything, all it would do is make matters worse.

“I’m tired, Theo…” you finally said, halting your pacing and shifting to face him. “I’m tried of this…the games, the fights, the pain…I’m tired of holding a candle for someone who doesn’t do the same for me…I’m tired of always feeling like I’m not good enough for you, like I need to always be looking over my shoulder, wondering what your next move is going to be…”

Theo’s near emotionless expression never faltered, his hardened demeanour staying set like stone as he stared at you; dark eyes piercing through your very soul as though he was seemingly seeing right past you. Part of you knew he was.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You sighed, expressions softening. “I mean…I can’t be the only one that feels this way, Theo…aren’t you tired of this? Are you tired of me?”

“Oh, Bella Mia…I’m tired of this, certainly.” His voice was a deliciously slow drawl, sparking heat in your veins with every syllable. You immediately cursed yourself for near-instantly crumbling, merely at his use of Italian. “But tired of you, never.”

You felt your stomach twist, your chest constrict with emotion. You wanted to believe him, you wished those words were true; but you simply knew him too well at this point, knowing that this was an endless cycle of heartbreak, one that you were all-too-determined to finally bring to an end.

“Don’t bullshit me, Theo…”

you said, planting your feet firm in place, crossing your own arms over your chest now as you stared at him, silently admiring his features; the ones that have near-effortlessly made you fold so many fucking times before--his dark hair tousled and messy as it fell naturally over his forehead, the curly strands framing his sharp and intense eyes that have hardly even blinked once as he watched you--seemingly still emotionless.

“We’ve been here before…it’s never ending…you call me up when you’re bored, when you need someone, tell me pretty lies that keep me wrapped around your finger, only to ditch me until you need me again. I’m tired of being your little toy, Theo. I’m tired of being loved with the wrong intentions.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Stellina…you know you’re so much more than that…”

Your entire body tensed at the nickname he called you, the word fluttering from his lips like a breathless sin, drowning you in the holy water that was your desire for him as you remembered the night he’d given you that name. The first night you’d hooked up under the stars in the Astronomy tower. Little Star.

He wet his lips, pushing up from his desk as he took a few strides toward you. “If you were just my toy, why would I cuddle you to sleep every weekend? Help you study for exams? Ensure you’re eating and drinking enough?”

His words rushed you, slamming your chest like a fifty pound cement brick. Gods, how you wanted to fold. How you wanted to drop down to his feet and beg him to love you, beg him to see you for more than just a quick fuck, but you knew it would do absolutely nothing. It’d been almost two years of begging to be more, and for all your efforts, you’ve gotten no where except for the pits of Theo’s bed, only to be kicked out in the morning.

It was an endless, heart wrenching cycle that you knew you needed to put an end to, now.

“Please, Theo…stop…” you said, your voice a trembling plea in the air; and as if on command, he did.

You shook your head, collecting yourself, taking a few steps back to keep the distance between your bodies--watching Theo’s expressions as his hardened facade slowly cracked, his eyebrows pinching and his throat bobbing as he swallowed, dark eyes scanning your features; flicking from your eyes to your lips and back up to meet your eyes.

“You’ve given me something I can’t live without, something I don’t think I’ll ever find in anyone else…but I can’t keep playing this little game with you, I can’t keep going on like everything is fine when it’s not…I love having you in my life but it hurts too much…I want to live, not just survive...” you whispered, voice dropping with every single word. “You have no intentions of being with me, after all this time, and I can’t keep doing it…I can’t keep acting like it doesn’t affect me.”

Theo’s jaw tensed, so tight it looked like it hurt, and he swallowed again. “That’s-“

You cut him off. “The truth.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, blanketing over the room, thick and sticky like cobwebs in a cave--clogging the channels of communication between your bodies. Theo’s eye twitched, a nearly impenetrable movement, but one you knew you’d never, ever miss--you’d simply stared into those dark eyes way too many times to not notice even the subtlest of changes.

“But is it, though?” Theo said, voice low and cautious, not daring to move even an inch closer as he stared at you. “Is it really the truth, or are you just letting this little misunderstanding fuel your emotions...you know I’ve only been with you…”

Your body vibrated. Anger creeping in. “Don’t you dare patronize me right now.”

He lifted his hands in surrender, large palms facing you as he raised them up against his shoulders.

“I’m not.” He said, gently. “Just think on it, for a second, Bella…please…you’re the only one…”

Please. He’d just fucking said please. You weren’t sure if you’d even heard him correctly.

“Don’t try to change my mind, Theo…” you whispered, voice unsteady and fingers trembling at your sides as you watched his expressions falter even further, his original confidence now entirely dissipating from his face. “There’s so much space between us, we were doomed for failure before we even began…and it’s entirely your fucking fault.”

His eyes narrowed, his eye twitching with increased intensity. “How the fuck is it my fault that you got attached?”

The room seemingly paused at his words, even his own expressions hardened as his brain registered what he’d just fucking said; but you, you hardly even flinched. Admittedly, you were just happy you’d finally got a sliver of his true thoughts, and not just the sweet, charming words he knew you’d want to hear.

“Are you really going to fucking stand there and blame me?” You hissed, unable to control your emotions as the energy and tension between your bodies continued to build. “After everything you’ve done?”

His face fell into a scowl. “You knew how I was before we started this-“

“Yes, I did, but stupid me for hoping that maybe one day you’d fucking change…” your voice cracked, your heart slamming your sternum. “I can’t keep loving you in the dark and then acting like a stranger in the light. Maybe you don’t see it but you’re fucking destroying me...sometimes I wish I’d never fucking met you…”

Everything paused. His breathing, his movement, his blinking. Fury crawled its way into his dark irises, shading them the colour of crimson; his fingers curling in against his palms, the tendons in his hands tightening like a noose prepared specifically for your neck. As fear gripped you, you swallowed.

His eyes narrowed. “You fucking what?”

Your lungs stalled, oxygen missing you. “I-“

Your words were cut short as Theo advanced on you, backing you up against the wall, two strong hands slamming against the wood next to your head, your heart racing so hard in your chest you were certain it would crack your sternum and threaten the integrity of your ribcage as Theo brought his face so dangerously close to yours you had to turn your head slightly to stop your lips from touching.

His breath was fire against your flesh, his exhales leaving his mouth in a low growl, brows furrowed in frustration.

“Do you want to say that again?”

You flinched, his body so close to yours you could taste the anger radiating off of him. “I didn’t-“

“No, you didn’t.” He hissed, shoulders crowding as he pressed against you. “Look at me.”

When you hesitated, one large hand slipped from the wood beside your head and latched on to your jaw, pinching your cheeks together as he directed your eyes to meet his--his once stoic and emotionless gaze now set ablaze with fury, singlehandedly searing through your soul with one single glance.

“Do you love me?”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the question, your nails digging into the wall behind you as you melted into it, your body slowly surrendering to his intoxicating touch, his fingers gripping your jaw with just enough force to illicit a burning desire between your thighs. You didn’t really need to process your response, knowing that lying to him right now would serve you absolutely no purpose.

Your voice was a mere breath as it left your lips. “Yes.”

“You love me.” It was more of a statement, not necessarily a question, and your entire body shuddered, the intensity of his eyes melting you from the inside out. “You fucking love me.”

You couldn’t find merely a single breath of air. “I-I do-“

His eyes flicked over your lips. “And if I told you I love you?”

The room spun, everything fading to black around you. “Y-you don’t-“

“I do.” He hissed, tugging you closer. “I do and I have for way too fucking long and it’s made me a coward--it’s made me so fucking scared to lose you that I push you away, I-I pretend like I don’t need you but I do. I fucking need you, principessa…”

Earth turned beneath your feet, yet everything in the room remained still. As though time had frozen in place. “Theo-“

“I fucking love you.”

He murmured; nothing but raw, untethered passion behind his words; freezing every single red millimetre of your bloodstream and turning it into nothing more than a cold blue system of ice.

Your chest swelled, fighting every urge in your body that wanted to kiss him. You almost couldn’t fucking believe your ears. “Say it again…”

“I love you.” He retorted almost instantly, meeting your eyes. “I’ve loved you since I watched you goto the Yule Ball with Malfoy and kiss him under the mistletoe in that beautiful emerald dress. I’ve loved you since the first time we kissed, the first time we hooked up in Astronomy Tower--hell, I’ve loved you since the fucking first year when you stole my seat in Potions and then stuck your tongue out at me just to spite me. I’ve loved you for so fucking long that I don’t remember what it feels like not to love you; and it terrifies me. Loving you is the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You couldn’t find words, couldn’t find breath, could only mutter the one fucking word that you knew you’d never forget, the one word that would never leave your mind even if you had stormed out of this dorm and never looked back.

“Theo…”

His jaw tensed, his nose practically brushing against yours as he stared down into your eyes; gaze so intense it diminished all of the oxygen within your lungs. “But yet you wish you’d never met me, huh?”

You stammered. “No, I-“

“Look into my fucking eyes and tell me that you meant it. Tell me that I mean fucking nothing to you, that all of this has been nothing.” He tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, your collective exhales mingling as one, your lips so close they were practically brushing. “Go on, fucking tell me.”

You yelped as he tightened his grip. “I-I can’t, Theo…”

He leaned closer, seemingly holding his breath, his soft lips grazing over yours once, twice, three times before he pressed the full plush entirety of his mouth to yours--his lips working to devour, to kiss you as though he’d never kiss you again. His tongue was rough, insistent, slipping past your teeth without effort as he worked to devour you, tightening his grip on your jaw as his free hand gripped your hip with enough force to inflict a bruise. You mewled against him, melting into the kiss, fighting to pull away and catch your breath but he was relentless, breathing you in like he could inhale you; map the entirety of your taste into memory.

When he finally broke the kiss, panting mouth falling to your jawline, you gasped; sucking in lungfuls of air.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Tesoro mio…I’m so sorry for ever making you feel like you aren’t enough for me. You are enough, fuck you’re too much; I don’t fucking deserve you.”

As he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you tight to his frame, you melted, feeling yourself become one with his strength, his warmth, his adoration.

“Theo…I-I don’t…”

He thrust a hand through your hair, pulling your head against his chest, his chin resting gently on the top of it. “I’m going to make it up to you…everything I’ve done, I’ll remedy it, I promise I will…Bella Mia…”

You exhaled, sinking against his firm hold. “I love you, Theo…”

“And I love you, Bella..”

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gemissleeping · 2 months

Text

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

#gemwrites #hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #thatdamnchickennugget #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader

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toournextadventure · 3 months

Text

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.”

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.

#wenclair x reader #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair x reader #wednesday x enid

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angeadore · 3 months

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟!

featuring ... lucifer; mammon; leviathan; satan; asmodeus; beelzebub; belphegor.

genre ... smut (18+).

wc ... 3.6k

warnings ... smut (18+); oral (m receiving); face fucking; verbal degradation + praise; slight exhibitionistic + voyeuristic themes; slight corruptive themes; masturbation; foul language; fem!reader; a little bit angsty?; some reactions are more suggestive and not as nsfw as they could have been; some reactions are shorter, some reactions are longer — i got lazy. also, i suck at writing nsfw, so take that as you will.

synopsis ... the demon brothers react to mc catching them after a shower.

authors note ... repost from my previously deleted blog!

now playing ► hands to myself by selena gomez.

LUCIFER

There was probably a reason that Lucifer wasn’t answering your calls, and his lack of response was probably not an invitation for you to walk into his room unannounced.

But, you had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. Even in the Human Realm you weren’t the best at reading social cues — your lack of street smarts only seemed to get you into twice as much trouble in the Devildom. Of course, the avatar of pride was not the exception to your clueless ways. At some point, you were bound to slip up.

“MC…” Lucifer stood on the opposite side of the room, raven hair wet from his shower and a white towel hanging low — so low — around his hips.

The demon had watched as the door to his room swung open without so much as a knock and then swung shut with the fervor of a madman. He continued to watch as you took in his figure, scanning him from head to toe before you were able to fully process what you were doing. And he watched as your face grew hot with roseate tones.

Lucifer should be angry; he should be absolutely seething.

He probably would be, too, if it weren’t for the way he could feel his cock twitch with arousal at the way you looked at him, the way your eyes trailed over his every feature with - admiration? Adoration? Fondness? Or was the look in your eye simply desire? Desire to have him, desire to feel him… did you desire him?

“I- Sorry,” you spoke frantically, apologizing to the demon profusely, “I apologize; sincerely. I should have knocked.”

Lucifer looked on you with curiosity swimming in his eyes; how, exactly, could a human stir up emotions — needs — that haven’t been so prevalent for centuries? How curious, indeed…

“There’s no need to apologize, MC.” If anything, he should be the one apologizing. Sinful thoughts of you — oh so sinful; damnable, even — ran rampant through his mind. “What can I help you with; it must be important.”

“No-” your tongue ran along your lips, finding they became quite dry in the time you had been staring at Lucifer, and the demon felt his cock harden further beneath the towel at the motion. “No, it wasn’t so important.”

You were always so sweet, so complacent — reminiscent of the angels you so often wasted your time with. Lucifer had to give it to you: you would have made a better angel than he ever was, though he’ll force you to fall further than he ever did.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I continued my activities.”

No, you certainly wouldn’t mind, and you would have stated such had your eyes not been trained on the towel that the demon let fall from his waist with little decorum.

This was not the Lucifer you had come to know — the one with the strict schedules, organized piles of paperwork, and sustained, uptight pride. This Lucifer was one you had yet to fully understand. This Lucifer was the one that was reckless, turbulent — the one that used his pride as his weapon instead of his lawbook.

This Lucifer was the one who was unabashedly stroking his half-hard cock in front of you, dripping with precum and letting soft groans pass through his lips. This Lucifer was wild, beautiful — completely alluring.

“Do you enjoy watching me, MC?” The question cut through your needy haze, the sound of his voice — the blatant pleasure he was feeling bleeding into his tone — making your breath catch in your throat and your pussy clench around nothing. “Because I certainly enjoy being watched by you.”

Your eyes follow his hand as he pumps his cock, fist squeezing tighter as he nears the tip. It looks painfully hard now, red and glistening. You couldn’t help but wonder what Lucifer would taste like, how his cock would feel sliding against your tongue. Would he guide your movements or would he let you please him of your own accord? Does he enjoy being teased or would he rather get straight to the point? What does he look like when he cums?

“You look like you want to devour me, MC — watching me like you are.” Lucifer continues his movements as he talks, your name nothing more than a breathy moan. “You should know that it’s a demons nature to give ourselves over to temptation when it’s presented to us; you should know better than to look at me like that.”

“I suppose… if I can’t look, can I touch?” The question rolled off of your tongue before you could care to consider your proposition.

Lucifer’s movements paused. His pretty MC, the object of his desire, wants to touch him? He swore to keep you happy and protected, as was his job under his lords order — if you want him, you will get him as many times as your fragile body could handle.

“Kneel.”

MAMMON

Mammon wasn’t simply the avatar of greed. No, he was the embodiment of greed itself.

Money, of course, was of the most obvious things he was greedy for. The demon believed that nothing was as satisfying as spending a couple hundred-thousand Grimm on whatever his heart desired (Lucifer and Mammon’s outstanding credit card bill would adamantly disagree).

Though, if he had to choose, Mammon would say that what he was most greedy for was you — albeit dubiously.

It came as quite a surprise when the demon first realized how truly euphoric you’ve made him feel, whether it be spoiling you or being graciously spoiled by you — it was how he imagined heaven would truly feel had he not been cast out for falling to the temptation of his sin, of his greed.

Mammon wondered if his greed was beginning to rub off on you, if that was the reason you had jumped him immediately after he had gotten out of the shower. Or, perhaps, you had simply been hanging around the avatar of lust too much.

Either way, it was Mammon that you were greedy for.

Your kiss wasn’t as sweet as Mammon was used too, it was lustful — lascivious and obscene. He could taste the sugary sweetness of candied strawberries on your tongue and could feel the way you pressed yourself against him until there was no space left. It was as if you couldn’t get close enough to him, like you wanted to steal his breathe from his lungs, crawl under his skin and become him.

Mammon knew greed; he was greed. Yet, this was the first time he was able to appreciate the intensity of your greed.

“Take this off.” Your fingers were playing with the tied-waist of Mammon’s towel, the offending piece of cloth frustrating you to no end — you wanted it gone, you wanted an unobstructed view of your lovers body and you both knew it. “Wanna see you.”

“Yeah…” his tone was teasing, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, closer until you could feel how hard he is against you, “You wanna touch me too? You want my pleasure to be yours?”

Of course you did.

“Just want you,” your voice was quiet, almost as if the idea of wanting to be with Mammon was embarrassing, when, in fact, it was the complete opposite. You welcomed your want for the demon with open arms, even if he was a bit slower to admit his want for you.

“You have me.”

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan was insecure and, frankly, you had absolutely no idea why.

The purple haired demon had, in your mind, been a sight to behold since your first meeting. Even after his sin had overtaken him, when he had put you in danger — even then you continued to cherish and adore him.

In your current situation, you found yourself asking the question for what had to be the thousandth time: why?

Leviathan was beautiful. Everything about him.

His skin, marred with scars — delicate ones that were pale against his already pale complexion and lurid ones that flushed crimson, a reminder of the burns inflicted during the fall. They all told his story; for that, they were beguiling.

The avatar of envy was all sharp lines and tapered edges — you couldn’t help the way your eyes would glide over his figure whenever he decidedly graced you with his presence.

Yes, he was certainly beautiful — you were having difficulties deciding whether your current situation was a blessing or a curse. Maybe it was both.

It was clear that Leviathan had just gotten out of the shower, his hair wet and mused, water droplets staining his skin as they trailed along the lines of his body, down, further — don’t look.

Though, it was difficult not to, proving nearly impossible to avoid taking in all of him when he was right there, standing in the middle of the room, showcasing himself to you. Levi was frozen, flustered at your presence, held hostage in a state of embarrassment just like you.

He was aroused like you were, too — something you noted as you admired his physique with both hands clasped over your mouth in shock.

Leviathans cock was hardened, long and thick with precum beading at the tip under your attentive gaze. You had to wonder if his arousal had anything to do with you or if he had intended to use his time after his shower to get off. You could only hope that you had starred in some of his fantasies.

You needed to leave. You really needed to leave. You hadn’t intended on walking in on him like this, and the last thing you wanted was to ruin a friendship that took so much time to cultivate by staring at him any longer than you already had.

Levi’s shock bled into bitter confusion: just as quickly as you had walked into his room, you had left with the slam of his door.

The demon wasn’t thrilled that you had walked in on him, that this was how you were made to see him so vulnerable, but he figured it was an opening — a twisted opportunity to have the conversation that so desperately needed to be had.

But you had left, walked out on him without so much as a word. He had been unable to read your expressions, to get some idea of what you thought of him.

Maybe if Leviathan was better at keeping his envy in check he would have realized that, perhaps, you simply left because you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the demon had never been very good at controlling his sin.

Levi couldn’t help but wonder if it was the scars that scared you off. Or, maybe, his body wasn’t what you were looking for — he knows you’ve seen Asmodeus in a state of undress… maybe his brother was more your type. Could it have been his personality? Did you think of him as nothing more than a friend?

Was he really so undesirable?

SATAN

You wish you could say that catching him was an accident, that you hadn’t been completely intent on seeing the avatar of wrath in a state of absolute vulnerability. You thought of it as payback — an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, so to speak. Reparations for an accident that lead to Satan walking in on you in quite a vulnerable state.

But, was that really an accident? No, not if the knowing look in the demon’s eyes after the fact had anything to say about it.

Satan was intelligent, that was something he prided himself on. Nothing around him happened without him wanting it to happen — a fact you must’ve overlooked when deciding that, yes, sitting on his bed and waiting for him to exit the shower without prior announcement would be a good idea.

And, really, if you had thought your plan through just a little more, you would have seen that you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Such a pretty little thing…” The words fell easily from Satan’s tongue, his sentence trailing off as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. He stood in front of you, towel riding low on his hips — too low; dangerously low.

“You’re towel- it’s going to fall.”

The smile that graced Satan’s lips could only be described as sinister — wicked, corrupt, completely vicious; he was looking at you like a predator would look at prey, and you had no reluctance in believing that that was exactly what you were to him. Prey.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Satan mocked, “Isn’t that why you’re here? Because you want to pleasure me?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have believed he was tempting you — with his body, with his words that were coated in honey.

“Say the word, pretty one, and I’m yours to use as you please.”

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus held no shame. It was a fact that you had learned very early on during your time in the Devildom, a fact that became increasingly obvious the more time you spent with him.

Innocent requests of let me paint your nails and play with my hair had quickly turned into requests of let me kiss you and bathe with me.

You hadn’t yet agreed to those kinds of requests — even the avatar of lust had yet to guide you into falling for temptation. Though, you had to believe that this — this misfortune — would be the inevitable turning point.

“Fuck, baby,” the words fell from Asmo’s mouth as a blissful moan, “your mouth feels so good — better than heaven.”

The demon stood over you, his cock in your mouth and his hands placed over the back of your head, holding you steady as he thrusted against your tongue.

You gagged around his length, tears gathering in your eyes that only served to push Asmo towards his release.

The turn of events wasn’t expected. You hadn’t gone to Asmodeus’ room expecting him to be clad in only a towel that hung low on his waist, nor did you expect to find yourself on your knees to service him. But, the towel that lay discarded on the floor made you think that, just maybe, this should have been expected, and the demon that stood in front of you, letting loose the prettiest moans you had ever heard, made you believe that this was simply bound to happen.

“I’m gonna cum,” the demon whined, his hips stuttering as he pushed his cock as far into your mouth as he could. His abdominals flexed and you could feel him twitch in your mouth as he moaned — loudly and without fear of any of his brothers hearing.

When Asmodeus finally came, his release spilling down your throat, you swore you could never get enough of him. When he pulled away from you, admiring the string of saliva that connected your lips to his cock, and you could see the way his cock began to harden once again, was when you realized how truly shameless the avatar of lust was.

“Next time…” Asmo breathed out, “next time you should just bathe with me. But, right now, I just want to taste you.”

BEELZEBUB

You had two options to choose from when venturing to pull a reaction from Beelzebub: eating his food or withholding his food from him. Neither of those options produced a reaction that was particularly favorable (unless you’re into being literally eaten — Beel loved you, but he loved food just a smidge more).

You were convinced you would never be able to get a favorable reaction from him — a reaction that ended with you on your back and the avatar of gluttony between your thighs. Weeks of teasing, of dropping not-so-subtle hints of what you were after yielded no results. None whatsoever and you were beginning to wonder if he was attracted to you in even the slightest.

Though, your current predicament successfully cut off that train of thought.

You were going to have to talk to him, that much was for certain. You had intended on doing so; you swear to heaven and earththat’s all you went to his room to do.

It wasn’t your fault that Beelzebub had grown into the habit of leaving the door open when he showered, really. It wasn’t Beel’s fault either — it was his room and Belphegor never spent any time in there anyway.

It also wasn’t your fault that you could feel your heartbeat speed up at the realization that your lover was less than 15 feet away from you and naked. Nor was it your fault that the demon was audibly pleasuring himself to the thought of you, your name falling from his lips as he pumped his cock in the steaming shower.

You moved to sit on the edge of his bed, rubbing your thighs together for just a bit of relief. The pressure of your thighs pushed together didn’t help much, but you hadn’t exactly expected it to — at this point, you were almost certain the only way you were going to be able to satisfy yourself was with Beel’s help.

‘His fingers would do,’ you thought, your eyes closed as you imagined the way his fingers would fill you up, how they would brush up against that one spot inside you — the one that makes all your muscles tense and pleasured moans spill from your lips. You wondered if he would use his tongue on you, if he would enjoy the way you taste, if he would hold your hips down and savor everything you had to give him.

You wondered if Beelzebub was the type to leaving you marked and aching, completely satiated, yet wanting more.

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes shot open, your gaze landing on Beelzebub, who was dripping wet and holding a towel loosely around his waist.

You hadn’t heard the shower stop, nor had you realized your hand had made its way between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through the thin material of your panties under your skirt.

You couldn’t quite tell what Beel was thinking. He didn’t sound angry or disgusted; maybe a little annoyed? Though you couldn’t understand why he would be annoyed, of all things. You could understand being uncomfortable, angry, even irritated, but annoyed? It didn’t make sense.

You stood, making your way towards Beelzebub, feeling the way his eyes stayed glued on your figure, embarrassment making your body heat up.

“I didn't’- I was just- You were- Beel?” Whatever stuttered out thought you were going to try to make sense of was stopped when the demon began moving closer to you, your own body moving backwards until your legs hit the bed, forcing you to sit down in order to put some sort of space between you and your lover.

His presence was looming and you would have been scared had you not known him as well as you did.

“Why were you touching yourself,” yes, he was annoyed, “when I’m right here — when I should be the only one touching you?”

“I don’t-”

“You should be punished — for not letting me take care of you, for not coming to me first,” Beelzebub’s words were quiet, low as he spoke to you, “I’m going to pleasure you until you learn your lesson, until I’ve had my fill; and then I’m going to keep pleasuring you anyway, because you’ve kept yourself from me for so long — too long — and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

BELPHEGOR

“You’re such a dumb fucking slut, you know that?”

Belphegor was behind you, pushing your head into the pillows as his cock slammed as deep into you as possible, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust. You could feel the way his cock bulged in your belly while he was in you, and indulged in the way the tip brushed against your spongey walls — it was euphoric in every sense of the word.

“You liked walking in on me after my shower? Hmm?” The demon was taunting you, trying to rile you up as he provided you and himself with much needed relief. “Can feel you clenching around me — you’re practically sucking me in, little slut.”

“Please, Belphie,” you whined, tears welling in your eyes at the feeling of him inside of you, wanting more than you already had of him, “please!”

Belphegor rolled his eyes — you were always so needy. You disturb his sleep, you invade his privacy, you tell him what to do and when to do it all because you want him to fill your cunt, to make you feel good. He was done with you controlling how he fucked you, how he loved you — if you wanted him, you’d have to take whatever he decides to give you.

“Wish you could just be a good girl for me, be the good girl everybody already thinks you are.” Belphegor’s words were breathy, unable to catch a breath as he fucked into you. “Why can’t you be a good girl?”

“I am!” It was a cry, a plea that fell from your lips. You were a good girl, you swore you were. “I am a good girl — promise!”

“If you were a good girl, you wouldn’t have invaded my privacy, would have knocked on the door instead of just walking in. You wanted to see my cock, wanted me to fill you up instead of waiting like a good girl would. No, you’re not a good girl — you’re my dirty, needy little slut,” the demon leaned down, his lips pressed against your ear, “You need to be taught a lesson, you stupid, impatient human.”

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beelmons · 9 months

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I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you.

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed.

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds.

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.”

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted.

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied.

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was.

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.”

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing.

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip.

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers.

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out.

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.”

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick.

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time.

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.”

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out.

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately.

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat.

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating.

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth.

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open.

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again.

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left.

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away.

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment.

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?”

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite.

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.”

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained.

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.”

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited.

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless.

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room.

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again.

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out.

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body.

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit.

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.”

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again.

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said.

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

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lunargrapejuice · 4 months

Text

comforting astarion after a nightmare

no pronouns used, post cazador fight written with spawn astarion in mind, really cuddly & touchy<3

the nightmares are something that may never be escapable, not even in death could astarion fully be rid of all that cazador has done to him. not that it hadn’t felt damn good to do. but tonight as he wakes, still so very hungry and nearly gasping for air, he doesn’t worry if he’s back in that lonely dark place where he was starved of everything, where a part of him died and was damned on keeping a fragment of him throughout his eternal life.

the weight of your arms keeping him pressed close to your chest, tucked under your chin, the warmth of your body and the steady beat of your heart in his ears is enough to convince his nightmare ridden mind that he was no longer in his master's grasp and would never be again. another holds him now, with gentleness and patience and love, and as he pulls away from your grasp in order to sit up, he feels what he’s sure is the equivalent of a feeling of an anxiously beating heart begging to settle in the depths of his chest.

he’s quiet and attentive in his movements so as to not stir you more than he already has, carefully untangling your legs and keeping you under the blanket as he sits up and takes in a long breath of cool air while ruby eyes watch you settle back into a comfortable position, never fully waking but one hand stretching out as if you were reaching for him.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there longing to touch your skin, to hold your hand in his like you’ve let him dozens of times since making his cold dead heart beat once more. you held his heart so gently in your palms, as protective of it as he was to your own. and surely he knows you wouldn’t mind his touch now. knowing you, you were more likely to gravitate towards it but in moments like this, where the weight of his burdens, his sins, makes him feel unworthy of all of this, of you, he hesitates. frozen in place but aching to reach out for your hand that his eyes can’t be torn from. dreadfully counting down the hours until your love ends.

“astarion?" your quiet voice, laced with heavy sleep but telling of your worry all the same, brings him back from his thoughts but his chest is still tight, still full of worry.

"oh, my dear- i didn't mean to wake you." he hadn’t noticed or heard you wake but as quickly as he blinks you’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes, assuring him he didn't wake you, and before he can say anything more, bursh this off, pretent everythings alright, and get you back to sleep, you’re moving closer to him and brushing the curls stuck to his forehead in a sheen of sweat with the pads of your fingers.

“are you okay?” you ask, genuine and as soft as the way you caress down his cheek.

melting into your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed, his slightly chilled fingers lay on top of yours and stop your movements. “you needn’t worry darling,” he replies faintly against your palm before placing a kiss there, his lips lingering on your skin, never wanting to part.

it doesn’t get past you that he didn’t actually answer your question or that he certainly is not okay but you don’t pry further. he will tell you if and when he’s ready and for now, you just want him to know he isn’t alone, that even though there is still so much to face, you would do it side by side.

when his eyes open, immediately finding your own, you offer him a smile and feel your heart leap when his gaze softens even more so. the handsome features of his face telling of the affects you had on him, of the way your love had changed him. red eyes glistening like crystalized roses, the deepest shade of blood red and full of the purests of devotions. one you very much shared.

“c’mere,” you pull on the hand he still holds onto and easily he follows after you, crawling on his other hand and knees back into your embrace.

he’s practically on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses on the lingering marks of his fangs left from earlier, but it’s a comfortable weight and you don’t wait to snuggle closer to him. one hand in his hair, carding through ringlets of his white locks, your fingers gently breaking apart small tangles. it’s soothing, easing to the tightness of his chest with each pass of your fingers against his scalp and over the tip of his ear.

“i dreamt of him,” astarion says lowly after a few quiet and comforting moments. his grip on you grows with each word, never enough to hurt you but hard enough that there was no way you could slip from his grasp, his lingering unease making him worried that at any moment you would.

your own grip on him grows, the pressure of your head now resting against his making him sigh in relief. this was real. your entire journey, ending cazador with his own hands, that was real. not the nightmare that would likely find him again in a few nights, maybe even tomorrow and perhaps more real and terrible than this one but when he wakes, there would be no denying what would be right in front of him; freedom he had stopped praying for long ago, parasite aside, and love that brought him back to life after centuries, your love. both of which he would not be so easy to let go of.

“i’m here,” you promise in a steady whisper and he feels the picking up of your heart rate underneath him. “you are safe and free and loved,” your hand in his hair gently pulls him into you more, lost in pale curls still damp with sweat, the tip of his nose nuzzling into the skin on your neck as he squeezes you in return. “i’ve got you.”

astarion takes in your scent, the flora that always lingers on your skin even through dirt and blood and sweat, the sweetness of your blood underneath, the cleanliness of the shampoo you used earlier in the day. he accepts your words, your warmth and the softness of your touches, letting them unravel his fears and worries, the uncomfortableness throughout his body, and leaving them bare for you to do with as you pleased.

it’s not long before he slips back into meditation under the melody of your heart beat, the rise and fall of your chest underneath him, the passing of your fingers against his ears and through his hair.

horrid memories of the past do not continue to play behind his closed eyes. not unlike how the sun kept vampires away, your radiance shone so brightly those dreams had no choice but to scurry back to the shadows, unable to face your light that illuminated the once darkened path that held him in place for so many years with no hope of escape. there was so much ahead of him now and with your hand in his, seeing your bright smile and sparkling eyes, basking in your love and light every step of the way, he was certain there was nothing he could not face.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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brittscafe · 6 months

Text

Toji Fushiguro Headcanons

Synopsis: SFW and NSFW headcanons. Toji Fushiguro x female reader.

SFW:

Well, your relationship certainly isn't the best or the least toxic one.

Toji will leave for days on missions without even telling you. You'll just wake up in the bed, his side empty.

When he comes back, he usually has your favorite candies and flowers in one arm.

Seeing your smile lights up his world.

Whenever he gets injured, he does his best to hide them from you, but you eventually figure out.

Toji will groan and roll his eyes as you demand for him to stay still as you try to clean his wounds.

He curses a lot, more than he should tbh.

Toji's kisses are gentle at first, a hand around your throat and holding you there.

His kisses become rough and needy, tongue sliding into your mouth.

Your relationship isn't the easiest thing in the world.

The two of you have arguments and screaming matches.

Toji is gentle to you afterwards, apologizing, but still getting underneath your skin by calling you a brat.

Hugs from behind all the time.

When Toji hugs you from behind, he'll lick his lips at your exposed neck and start attacking it with kisses. He'll leave marks there.

Toji effortlessly can lift you off your feet and throw you over his shoulder.

He'll do this when he decides that he's had enough of your talking or just wants to hear you giggle endlessly.

Bear hugs!!

Toji's big chest and arms allow for you to feel super safe in his embrace.

He doesn't being the little spoon and refuses to be.

There are times though where he'll rest his head on your chest, letting out a deep, pent up breath.

Toji is damn protective of you.

I mean, he'll kill for you if someone looks at you wrong.

NSFW:

I'm chewing on my fingernails just thinking about Toji in bed.

He's so damn dominate, it's not even funny.

Don't even try to be the dominate one in bed, Toji can easily flip you over onto your back and pin you to the bed.

He's so rough and can easily go multiple rounds, making sure that you won't be able to walk in the morning.

Toji definitely loves to choke you to the point where you're begging for air.

Toji loves to leave hickey marks along your skin, your neck, thighs, stomach, breasts, anywhere.

If you're being a brat, he'll force you to ride his thigh and nothing else.

His fingers will leave marks on your hips.

I don't make the rules, but he's definitely pulls on your hair.

When you're down on your knees, mouth stuffed with his cock, he loves to hold your head or even push it down.

He's pretty loud, groaning and saying such degrading things as he's deep inside of you.

Toji isn't worried about you getting pregnant, it's not even on his mind when his warm cum fills up your insides.

His favorite position is the mating press, he loves to be balls deep inside of your aching pussy.

He loves seeing your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your sinful moans filling the room.

Toji definitely spanks you to the point where tears are spilling down your cheeks.

He calls you princess and he says it super soft and gentle unlike his other words.

Overstimulation, edging, squirting, you name it and Toji does it.

Will fold your body in half.

His aftercare really is just him throwing you a cloth to clean yourself up and then cuddling you afterwards.

Every once in a while, he'll set up a bath and pick you up from the mattress, carrying you there.

Toji takes pride in seeing how tired you are, after he's literally ruined you.

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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months

Text

Before any asks come in, I figured I'd do some for my current crowning hyperfixation, which is the boys. Did one for each of their initials but Dick got two because I couldn't choose <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! , gen soft yandere behavior, murder, kidnapping, dacryphilia, sadism/masochism

D = Darling (Beyond Morality, is Any Act Justified in Their Pursuit of Their Darling? Is Consent Merely an Obstacle to Be Overcome?):

Dick: Dick is the most moral of the yandere batfam, and considers doing the right thing very important. Of course, you’re still much, much more important but… He’ll definitely start small. He’s manipulative. Always begging and pleading for a little more of your time, whining when you don’t give it. And he does it openly, too, not even trying to hide it. Maybe that will absolve him of some of his sins, he thinks a little pathetically. Things like murder and other crimes are harder for him to get into, as he’s quite loyal to Bruce’s code. And he probably wouldn’t kidnap you, just move into your house instead, then your bedroom, then under the covers and with your arms around you. Very slowly, so he doesn’t scare you away. And as someone who has experienced s/a before, he wouldn’t do that to you. No matter how desperate, no matter how many nights he spends taking a suspiciously long time in the shower, he’d never do that to you. In the end, he just wants you to be happy so… so the other stuff doesn’t need to matter as much.

Damian: Damian has a very black and white form of thinking. It took Bruce a hell of a lot of work to change that, and with the advent of you in his life, he swings right back to that black and white. Morality is thrown right out the window when it comes to getting you, to getting you to love him. Murder? He’s done it before. Kidnapping? He’ll keep you safe with him. He’s a romantic, though (like they all are) and he wants you to love him back. He’s irritated that he can’t force that, that if he broke you, you wouldn’t be you. So in the end he won’t ever do anything too far, nothing that would truly get in the way of his goal. Still, with the kidnapping thing, you guys are just going to get stuck together for a while, because he’s certainly not letting you go. The two of you are just gonna have to suffer together till you inevitable fall in love with him. Don’t worry, he’s got a plan!

J = Jealousy (Does Jealousy Course Through Their Veins, Leading to Possessive Outbursts and a Relentless Need to Eliminate Perceived Threats?):

Jason: Jason is so unbelievably jealous it sometimes physically hurts. Like he’s being burned alive by it, which, well, he knows what that’s like so he can say it with confidence. He finds your presence calming, usually, but that first time he sees you laughing at a close friend’s joke, he realises you bring out every emotion in him. This time, fiery rage from the literal pits’ of hell. He won’t ever hurt you (and if he ever thinks of it, even for just a moment, the pure horror is enough of a cool bucket of icy water over his head to snap him out of it) but others? Oh, oh no. He left that silly ‘no killing’ code behind a long time ago, and he’s very glad for that as he beats one of your admirers into the concrete. And if you have other yanderes under your thrall? You’ll find yourself constantly breaking up fights, and maybe one day, cleaning up a body. Even then, Jason doesn’t like seeing you touch them, so he does it for you instead. What a sweet guy, eh?

R = Regret (Would Guilt Ever Be a Foreign Emotion, Overridden by the Conviction That Their Actions Are Justified? Is the Idea of Letting Their Darling Go Inconceivable?):

Richard/Dick: Constantly. Dick is constantly suffering under the weight of his choices, the way he’s treated you, the things he thinks about you. And even as he does it again, does worse, he’ll still have that bit of guilt in the back of his mind. He wants to stay with you, to fucking climb inside your rib cage and live next to the comforting sound of your beating heart, but he knows that’s all unhealthy. He sometimes can’t banish the guilt from his head, sometimes it’s overwhelming, and those are the moments he’ll back off a bit.

T = Tears (Does the Sight of Their Darling's Suffering Evoke a Twisted Pleasure, a Morbid Satisfaction Reinforcing Their Control?):

Tim (Going to play around with this one a bit, if you’ll forgive me): Tim is purely fascinated by you. He’s one of the yanderes who gets obsessed with you first, and falls for you second. Your tears, just simply by being a byproduct of you are fascinating to him too. And yeah, they turn him on. Everything about you turns him on, but the sight of your weepy face, has his cock weepy too. As a sadomasochist switch, he likes it when you’re suffering just a little bit. It’s just too cute to resist. But on the other side… he likes when you make him cry too. He likes when you hurt him, as long as you’re paying him attention, looking at him. He’ll cry all you like, if you think it makes him cute, too.

#Event:1kCelebration #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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saintsenara · 4 months

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What is your rationale for disagreeing with the fanon that the horcruxes affected Voldemort's sanity?

that it's literally canon that they don't!

i obviously don't have an actual problem with people using the idea that the horcruxes affect voldemort's sanity as a trope, if that's what works for their story, but what irks me is that this idea is often repeated by voldemort enjoyers as canon fact, when the impact of horcruxes on cognitive function is spelled out clearly in half-blood prince:

Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, “So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?” “Yes, I think so,” said Dumbledore. “Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.”

in half-blood prince - as in every book prior to deathly hallows - dumbledore functions as the "word of god" character, which is to say that the information he provides us - as long as it relates neither to harry nor himself - isn't up for interpretation, it's understood within the narrative as correct. we can also be sure that he's done his research on horcruxes, knows exactly how they work, and is speaking as an expert when it comes to their impact on the mind - and we can also note that slughorn [who also seems to know what he's talking about when it comes to horcruxes and their function] doesn't mention them causing any cognitive damage when discussing them with the teenage tom riddle.

but nobody has ever made as many horcruxes as voldemort! maybe one doesn't affect the mind, but seven certainly could.

except this doesn't align at all with how the series understands the relationship between the soul and the will.

one of the central themes of the harry potter series is the value of choice. all of its main characters have narrative arcs which hinge - in some way or other - on them making a choice, very often the choice between what is right and what is easy. ron chooses to leave and then chooses to come back; hermione chooses to stay. sirius chooses to take a stand against the life his family expect of him. snape chooses to repent of his sins and work forever to atone for them. harry chooses to walk into the forest and die. lily chooses to ignore voldemort's request for her to stand aside.

all of these choices are made of the character in question's own free will - and the same applies to everything voldemort does in the series. he chooses to kill and to keep killing of his own free will, with the full capacity to understand his actions, and he refuses, right until the very end, to show the slightest bit of remorse for what he's done - and it is this, in the narrative's view, which makes his behaviour so heinous and which causes his behaviour to have such an impact on the state of his soul.

if we assume that voldemort's grasp on rationality declines with the number of horcruxes he makes, we are also assuming that his capacity to understand the full wickedness of his actions also declines - but his motivation for killing myrtle to make a horcrux and his motivation for killing frank bryce to make a horcrux are exactly the same: he wants to, and he doesn't give a solitary fuck about the life he's just taken.

and this stands in contrast to something else we see in canon - the idea that killing does not automatically have an impact on the soul:

“And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?” “You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation,” said Dumbledore.

this - the set-up to snape's mercy-killing of dumbledore - suggests that your soul is not harmed if you know without question that the death you cause is justified.

snape kills dumbledore of his own free will, but this suggestion also implies that it would be perfectly possible for the soul to remain unharmed if a killer was understood to be non compos mentis. that is, if someone lacked the capacity to understand their actions were not justified, then their soul would see them as "not guilty by reason of insanity" and not splinter.

voldemort's ability to make so many horcruxes in the first place, then, must depend on his capacity to understand exactly what he's doing - to know he could choose not to kill and then still do it anyway.

and we do actually see in canon that - while he's shown to be someone who kills with the slightest provocation in the films - the voldemort of the books is clinical and methodical in his violence:

“Nice costume, mister!” He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face: Then the child turned and ran away... Beneath the robe he fingered the handle of his wand... One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother... but unnecessary, quite unnecessary...

the canonical voldemort's known kill count is actually surprisingly low, and each of his victims is clearly selected with a rational [in the "does he have a disorder of thought?" sense, not in the "is this morally justifiable?" sense] motivation driving his decision to attack them - even if his actions are also affected by an emotional trigger [he does not, for example, kill his father or massacre the goblins who tell him that the cup was stolen for reasons which are irrational or delusional - incandescent fury or fear that your secret is out are not insanity].

voldemort kills and makes his horcruxes out of choice, and the series is clear that his capacity to understand that choice does not degrade across the course of his life.

ok, but you have to admit that he's definitely not... all there, personality wise...

sure. but i don't think this has anything to do with the horcruxes...

the idea that voldemort runs around shrieking and cackling to himself is an invention of the films. the canonical voldemort is shown to be lucid and thoughtful even in deathly hallows, he remains a formidable strategist right up until the end - and i think it's also worth noting that the films really gloss over just how successful his takeover of the government is - and his prodigious intellect and magical talent are acknowledged by the order throughout the series.

his more volatile personality traits - his fondness for monologuing, his rapid switching between being superficially charming and feral, his tendency to get lost in his own obsessions, his emotional brittleness - are all ones the eleven-year-old riddle is shown to possess, and i think it's much more interesting to explore the idea that they remain aspects of the person he once was which the adult voldemort cannot hide behind the mask he has constructed.

but - yes - its certainly true that the resurrected voldemort of order of the phoenix onwards is more paranoid, harder to soothe, crueller to his death eaters, more inflexible in his thinking and so on than he is implied to have been in the 1970s, and so i understand why many readers interpret this as evidence that his last two horcruxes [harry and nagini] - plus the arcane horror of his resurrection ritual - might have sent him round the bend.

but i think that the implication of canon is that this behaviour has much more mundane causes.

in october 1981, all the evidence we have is that voldemort is about to win. he is an unassailable terrorist kingpin with an army of highly-trained, highly loyal minions and - we can assume - widespread popular support.

and then only four of these supporters try to find him.

it's clear - as we can tell from the fact that barty crouch jr. is so shocked to discover that he didn't massacre the reassembled death eaters where they stood - that voldemort is livid that none of his "loyal" servants came to rescue him from the tree in albania his soul piece was hiding in, choosing instead to pretend they were under the imperius curse and that they'd never have been seen dead supporting him had they been in their right minds. it's also clear that he has no choice but to welcome these death eaters back to the fold once he's resurrected because he'd have no core supporters otherwise.

but it's also clear that he doesn't trust any of them one single bit once their commitment is proven to be so fragile - and that it is this, this evidence that he's just a human being with human feelings, rather than a creature of pure magic whose mind has been warped by that magic, which provides a much, much more interesting explanation for his increasing volatility as the war draws to its conclusion.

voldemort is at his most interesting - in my opinion - when his humanity [and his failure to outrun it] is foregrounded. this isn't incompatible with his creation of the horcruxes at all. but it is, i think, incompatible with the idea that they warp his mind.

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort

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apollo1three · 16 days

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Hello! can I plz request the obey me bros with their children, you can choose if u want them to be their daughter, son or multiple. i just really wanna see them as like dads, like a scenario maybe when they learn to walk or say their first word you dnt have to if you don't want to! and if it's too much can i have just Beel Mammon or Lucifer :3

AHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! I’m sorry for taking so long! I haven’t checked my dusty musty crusty a$$ inbox in a while ;-; also nonnie u don’t understand how much I love domestic, sappy, fluffy af stuff like this <3<3

Ofc I’ll do all of em, but I’ll do them in parts so you don’t have to wait for me to finish all seven ^^

------

An unimaginable type of love (Lucifer x f!reader)

The demon brothers with their babies (1/7)

Demons are not born, he once told you; they manifest – either as a product of great sin or demonic energy. Demons do not feel the need to procreate, they cannot- they do not get pregnant, and they certainly do not give birth.

So how is it that the Morningstar finds himself staring down into sparkling crimson eyes, reminiscent of the deep shade of his, with a softness akin to yours? How is it that he cradles a squirming bundle made from the love between him and his human wife?

With a life only ever dedicated to servitude, Lucifer would’ve never dreamt of creating a family of his own. Never in his time in the celestial realm would he have imagined small, fragile little arms, reaching out for him to hold them in his. Never could he have imagined the possibility of a being regarding him in the sentiment with which he had once regarded Him.

He eyes your sleeping form, snuggled into the comfort of the large bed, and he’s overcome with a fondness that words could not explain the level of. To be loved unconditionally by you, and to be given the most precious gift of all. What had he done to deserve such a thing? - something that was once an unfathomable idea - did he deserve it?

He cradles his daughter in his arms, stroking her little face, and the giggle she lets out is so precious, so much like you, and has him nuzzling his nose into her puffed up little cheeks. You had once light-heartedly complained to him about carrying her in your stomach for nine months, only to have her come out identical to him. Though he'd never admit it, your husband was proud of the notion (at the time, you swore you could see puffed up feathers behind his form), but it was irrefutable how the child carried herself with a poise that was undeniably like yours: a mischievous, yet endearing glint in her eyes that surely meant trouble in the foreseeable future. Lucifer didn’t mind, though.

He mutters, “my darling, what are you doing up so late at night?”, to which his only response is a squeal and few kicks of tiny feet. He tuts back, playfully. “So noisy, my love. Won’t you let your mother sleep?”

There’s a slight breeze from the open balcony, and he gets up from his side of the bed with your daughter rocking gently in his grasp. “Let’s go outside for a bit, come now.”

The way he carries her is careful, protective, and much more assured than the way he had first carried her after her birth. He wasn’t used to dealing with humans, let alone any living thing, in their infancy. Angels and demons did not have an infantile period, and it shook him inwardly the first time he held her, so small and breakable. You, a fully grown human woman, were fragile enough as is – but a human infant? It took some stern reassurance that the child he considered so small and breakable was his just as much as she was yours for his paranoia to waver.

‘She’s ours, Lu.’

(Fatherhood. Such a human experience, and he had only you to thank for it.)

Ushering to the Devildom fireflies, she blows raspberries that makes him want to litter his daughter in even more kisses. So he does, far more unreserved than if it were in front of you (while he loved you and trusted you with his heart and soul, showcasing such unabashed doting was still awkward for new to him). So disgustingly affectionate; the past him would’ve laughed at the notion of such outwards display of emotion directed towards anyone or anything – a hit to his pride, to the very thing he embodied. But to the him right now, such a thought never even crossed his mind.

“Do you see that, my love? Aren’t they pretty?”, he smiles softly, tenderly, eyes creasing at the corners. He pokes at her mouth, now endlessly razzing. “Alright, who taught you to do that? Was it Uncle Mammon? Belphie?"

To the him right now, his pride was in the form of his beautiful wife, and his darling little girl.

“Daddy will always protect you two, I swear on it.”

Absentmindedly stroking her head, a thousand thoughts run through his head. He contemplates heading back inside as the wind picks up, worried you might be getting cold. You’ve been all over the baby since she arrived (and even before then, too), insisting that her crib be placed in the both of your bedroom (much to Asmodeus’s chagrin, adamant that your old room would make the most beautiful human-realm-esque nursery) – while your motherliness was extremely attractive (or rather, all of you), and despite your daughter being an unusually well-behaved little thing, you deserved some quality rest.

He heads back, moving to lower her into her pink-embellished, Avatar of Lust™, crib, but freezes.

“Da..da!”

His movements are miniscule, microscopic, as he looks down at the cooing and giggling tot.

“Say- say that again, darling.”

“Dada!”

Time seems to slow, and he’s overcome with so much fondness, so much love.

“Haha! That’s right, here’s Dada..!” He practically throws her up into the air, accompanied by more squeaky giggles, and if anyone asks: no- his eyes don’t water (it’s merely the brightness of the Devildom moon).

Amidst childish laughter, she says it once more.

He lets out a shaky laugh of disbelief. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there's an uncharacteristically toothy grin on his face. Slowly, trembling hands (a fault of the temperature, obviously, despite him once mentioning the immunity of demons to things as 'trivial' as the weather) press his daughter's small body to his chest.

His daughter. His. His daughter. His wife. His brothers. His family.

It was then that he realised, although perhaps he had always known, that the love he felt for you and the life the two of you had created was different from His love. It was unconditional. The sort of love that allowed him to understand Lilith, the sort of love that he would gladly die for, kill for, be destroyed for. The sort of love that was once unattainable, unimaginable, was now closer than ever.

Lucifer wanted to share this moment with you.

“M-MC!”

#obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #om lucifer #obey me scenarios #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #mammon obey me #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

Text

Don't Blame Me

Fandom: MCU Title: Don't Blame Me Characters/Pairings: Bucky x f!Reader Word Count: 960

Summary: A chance encounter in the middle of the night in your kitchen.

Content Warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, some light drinking, tw: cheating/infidelity

Logistical Notes: A humble little offering for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event, though certainly no virtues to be seen here - just envy and lust.

Additional Notes: I'd been thinking of Bella's writing event for quite a while, but @biteofcherry tormented me with a very inspirational gif and fed me some naughty thots that I haven't been able to get out of my head. But finally tonight, this demanded to be told. Title taken from the Taylor Swift song of the same name as it's loosely based off some of its feelings/drives.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You hadn’t expected to have company in the kitchen when you’d left your room in only the loose tank top and panties you’d worn to bed, but you made no attempt to hide your body when you heard his footsteps quietly treading down the hallway because part of you wanted him to see.

As he rounded the corner, he flicked on the single light that hung lower over the center island counter, the soft glow illuminating you leaned up against it with a pint of ice cream and a spoon, and pouring over his shirtless form, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Oh, I didn’t – sorry,” he said softly, tugging his pants up a bit more, and averting his gaze sharply away from you.

“You’re fine. Don’t mind me.”

You watched as he turned away to grab a glass from the cupboard, longing to reach out and run your fingers over the muscles moving and stretching along his back.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here tonight,” you pressed as he slotted the glass beneath the waterspout on the door of the fridge. “You have that giant presentation for the investors in the morning.”

Bucky sighed.

“Your girlfriend, my roommate, was specifically complaining about how you wouldn’t go out with her tonight because of it – which is perfectly reasonable by the way. You know that, right?”

He didn’t respond, still not looking at you, and then it was you who let out a sigh.

“Bucky, please tell me you didn’t go pick her up when she called.”

“Of course, I did, what else was I supposed to do?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

He finally rounded on you, his face a mixture of anger and hurt. “She was drunk at a bar, she needed me.”

“No, she didn’t! She went out with five of her old college friends – any of them should have taken care of her. She could have gotten an Uber. She could have called me, and I would have grudgingly been annoyed but gone and picked her up, even though I wanted to throw things at her when she left saying not to wait up because she was going to call you to go get her anyway because she knew you’d come because you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You scoffed. “Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this?”

“Because I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You frowned.

He flexed his left hand in agitation, making the black plates quietly whir, but every sound in this nearly silent kitchen was loud. You could even hear the gentle, intermittent snores of your sleeping roommate down the hall, Bucky having left the door open when he came to the kitchen.

You looked from his beautiful vibranium arm back up to his piercing blue eyes.

“I want you to kiss me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

But you didn’t need to say it any louder.

His eyes darkened at your words. “I can’t.”

“You can,” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Please just kiss me.”

“Fuck,” he whispered when you placed one hand on his shoulder and one tentatively on his waist.

You closed the space between the two of you and tilted your head up, offering your waiting lips to him.

“Please, please kiss me.”

He didn’t move, which meant he also didn’t move away.

“Bucky, I know how you look at me now. You didn’t at first, but you’re bored of little miss perfect, you want imperfection, you want reality, you want me as much as I crave you.”

He dropped his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes. “Don’t.”

You pressed your chest flush up against his. “Just one kiss.”

“It won’t be just one kiss,” he shot back so quickly your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t hold back.

You surged up and captured his lips. His hands flew up to grip either side of you head, and it would have been tender if not for the heat and rage and longing that fueled it, causing him to hold you a little more firmly. You moaned into the kiss, and he backed your hips up to the counter, then lifted your hips up onto the granite countertop. You leaned back, bracing your hands on the smooth surface behind you. You drew your legs up around the backs of his thighs to pull him close, his legs stopping against the island, and you dragging your pelvis to the very edge, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his sweatpants. He broke off the kiss, his head dropping back on a groan of pleasure.

Desire was desperately coursing through you, you had wanted this man more and more over the past months, every friendly interaction only seeping deeper and deeper into your heart.

But adrenaline and bitterness also fanned the flames of your need.

Because it was likely she’d gotten plastered enough to sleep clean through anything until morning.

But she could wake up and come out here and see you like this as you kissed her boyfriend and pushed his sweats and boxer briefs down to free his cock. She could hear him growl into your mouth, licking against your tongue in an eagerness to taste more of you, pulling your panties off so quickly.

He only broke away from the kiss long enough to line up his cock, and then he shot into you, reclaiming your lips to swallow a sharp cry from you.

You’d been fueled by lust, but sustained by longing.

This was so much more than one kiss.

And as you clutched onto his shoulders – one metal and one flesh – you knew this would not be the end of it.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#tw: cheating #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #aspen wrote something #the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #tw: infidelity #female reader

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octuscle · 1 month

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Dear Chronivac Support,

I am a nerd who doesn't get high grades, despite studying a lot my grades are not the best, and my roommate is a smart jock. He's muscular, handsome, well-groomed, and intelligent. I find this an affront to the balance of stereotypes. How can I adjust the Chronivac so that he slowly loses intelligence until he becomes a traditional dumb jock with grades much worse than mine?

We are in the Holy Week… And envy is a mortal sin. You're not seriously asking me to punish your roommate just because he's smarter, more handsome and more charismatic than you are? But we can do something about the fact that you look like a nerd but are more of an intellectual jock! We can equalize that!

When you wake up the next morning, it's somehow no longer your room. There are posters of ice hockey and football players on the walls. There are lots of dirty clothes, pizza boxes and beer cans on the floor. It smells a bit. But it could also be you. A deep breath from your armpit. Yep, you're not entirely innocent of the smell. You didn't shut down your computer last night. The porn site is still open. And you haven't wiped away the wank stains on the keyboard either. You're a bit disgusted with your own place right now. But only for a few moments. Hey, you're young, you're having fun, if the dirt bothers you, clean it up. And your cool flatmate doesn't mind. Even if he's a lot tidier himself.

No clean clothes in your wardrobe again. You could now ask your bruh if he has anything for you. But unfortunately, his clothes wouldn't fit you anyway. You are separated by a few kilograms of pure muscle mass. But if the lectures are boring again, you'll go to the gym and try to catch up with your muscles. And the next lectures will be boring. So you can actually go straight to university in the clothes you want to work out in afterwards.

As you stand in front of the mirror in your smelly, dirty tank top and old, washed-out sweatshorts, you think for a moment about how silly you look. The clothes are two sizes too big for you. And with your nerdy pot haircut, everything looks even worse. You grab one of your flatmate's caps. Much better! And off you go.

Shit, you chose business studies so you wouldn't have to do so much math. It's a hell of a lot of math. The exams are back today. C-. Shit, damn it! You've got so much… Well, to be honest, you haven't studied at all. Even though he's sitting three rows in front of you, you can see your roommate grinning. You can already imagine what kind of grade he got.

You took your bad mood out on the weights. Hehehe, three hours in lectures, four hours in the gym. Good ratio. If only your parents knew. They would certainly cut your monthly allowance. But who's going to tell them?

When you get home, your flatmate is snoring on the sofa. His exam is on the table. A-. Well, everyone has a bad day. His snoring is contagious. You just manage to make yourself a protein shake and down it. Then a proper protein fart. Yeah, that was a good one! And then you collapse onto the sofa.

You dream that you are a nerd. But not one of those who have a doctorate in physics after two semesters. One who is clumsy in sports and dumb in math. Someone with just two single hairs on their chest. One with a fluffy, fuzzy beard. And one with no muscles at all. Crazy dream! Although, the part about being dumb at math… That's true!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #tank top #nerd to jock #jock tf #ai image

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hazbinhotel-bitch · 3 months

Text

He Knows: Alastor x (Name)

(Name) had a few more times after being confronted by Alastor. She was a little surprised he knew who she was, but she knew he had many connections and probably sent out his shadows to keep an eye on every Overlord and probably noticed a reoccurring face. (Name) was glad that Alastor let her continue with her research to see if it was worth writing about. But with the few visits she made she started to like their company, there was a certain pull about the sinners that resided in the Hotel.

(Name) was by the bar talking with Husk and Angel-Dust. They were all chatting and laughing as (Name) was telling them of her times as a human. Granted she did have to look back at her journal that she kept a page entry of memorable memories of her life. She kept a few of her happily memories as a human where she would bring up in conversations from time to time.

"So picture this; it's late at night. I was a young woman dressing like a young man but if I'm being honest I looked like little boy, but I was trying to get into a pub that lead to an underground fight club. So when they kicked me out from the front door I decided to get in through the back, luckily for me knew the building layout so I was able to break into a home that had a connecting basement." she explained "But because of the two Basements were connected I though it'd be easy but, it turned out this place was connected through several other building and I ended up getting lost."

Angel just laughed at the misfortune she had and called her a stupid bitch which she took no offence. She was pretty young at the time she was only in her early 20s at the time so she thought she knew everything. But in the end she published her experience in the underground tunnels and that many building basements that connected intricately with one another. She went on to talk about how if she stayed longer she was afraid she would find the underground people who live in the swerves. In the end of anecdote she compared the idea of meeting the underground cavillation is no different to hell itself and the people inhabiting the place. Through out this Alastor was listening from a distance with an arched brow, he kept his smile up as he let his intellectual mind wonder.

She certainly has a way with her story telling... and she does seem to captivate people with her charms.

Alastor thought as he watched her with a slight curious gaze. In no means did he think he was lacking in his work with the broadcast she's had for years, but in the seven year hiatus he took notice that no many sinners cared he had left or when he came back, aside from Vox the demon with the TV head who was pissed that Alastor decided to come back to the limelight. But Alastor had been keeping tabs a fairly known writer under the name of Siege, a couple of decade after he arrived he noticed paper article titled "Siege's Scandal Sheets" where it would be highly detailed of very sensitive subjects on many Overlords and even those from Ars Goetia and the Seven Deadly Sins. The Radio demon was rather impressed but wary but soon caught on that the scandal sheets has started to slow down since (Name) made an appearance near the Hazbin hotel. It wasn't long until he realized (Name) was the cunning writer, Siege from the scandal sheets of hell.

Alastor was debating whether to use (Name) to his advantages and have her work for him to get him more stories of hell to get his listenership up again, and who better than the infamous Siege of the scandal sheets.

"Ah My dear (Name)" Alastor finally said making his way to the trio of sinners "What a lovey anecdote"

(Name) sighed with a smile still recalling her time as a young human journalist doing whatever she could to get the biggest story with freedom.

"I was curious my dear. If you were journalist in your human life, what are you doing here in hell of an occupation?" Alastor asked with a smile.

(Name) didn't trust his interest. When she started showing up more and more Alastor either avoided her like she was a fly on a wall or if she started to try and get some kind of information he would belittle her simply offer her a deal of an exchange of secrets which she refused. But this was new. He was asking her of her occupation in hell.

Does he know? Surly he know... he's one a very intelligent and cunning man. There's no way he doesn't know who I am... or maybe I'm looking too much into it. Maybe he is wondering why I am here all the time... that has to be the reason he is asking me.

(Name) thought to herself in her inner monologue moment in her mind as she simply stared at Alastor. From the outside it looked like she was simply taking in his features, as if she were to paint his face on a canvas and she was simply as admiring. But she smirked when she noticed his smile twitch in annoyance along with his eye as he waited for her answer.

"I've had a few odd jobs here and there, but Journalism doesn't really work well here in hell. Velvette is the main dominator when it come to news here in Hell" (Name) mentioned with a shrug.

"Perhaps... but Velvette never facts checks her news, which makes her unreliable. Feeble gossip and nothing more" Alastor mused out "But~"

His voice was like a sing song tone. (Name) could feel her heart race as he drew closer to her as his smile seemed far more sinister now.

"There is one person the people of hell wait for" he was close to her face before he straightened up with pride as he looked down at her "Aside from myself that is"

"And who is that Mr. Radio demon" she scoffed trying to keep her tone aloof like her expression.

"Siege of the Scandal Sheets"

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#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #radio demon #x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

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