#wet pathetic man. of course i need him carnally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nillabeam · 4 years

Text

thirst texts at 2 am

synopsis: ah the queen of the drunk text. that’s you. but what happens when the person on the receiving end of your drunken sexting is none other than bakugo katsuki himself??

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: 18+ for sure, alcohol mention, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lANGUAGE bc bakugo is in it so that a given 100%, reader being a little brat, slight age gap but both characters are aged up

a/n: hi it’s me again bringing you another thirst post but Bakugo’s a little tiny bit of a sub in this one and i’m probably making a part two which will probably be pure sin but we’ll see! thanks for reading as usual please ignore all my shitty grammar and spelling mistakes <333

You were more than lucky to score an internship straight out of UA, and even luckier to be scouted by Endeavor’s agency. And luckier still, to be able to work with Bakugo Katsuki, Ground Zero himself, the boy you had a school girl crush on since the day you watched him in the sports festival on TV. Feral and an obvious asshole, needless to say for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you were smitten. You even managed to get into UA, granted he had graduated the year before you actually attended UA, still it was hallowed ground to you since so many great heroes were a product of the prestigious high school. What started as a shallow reason for attending became the best decision of your life. You left UA a strong pro hero to be, and your quirk made you a perfect addition to the fiery ranks of your new agency.

You fit in quite nicely, most of your co-workers took a liking to you immediately. Except, of course, Bakugo, who always seemed to keep his distance from everyone. The loner rockstar of the agency, honestly it was very on brand for him. You could count on one hand how many times you’d interacted, and you only needed half the amount of fingers to count how many times you’d actually spoken to one another. Lucky for you your school girl crush had wavered a bit since graduation. After all, you were a full fledged hero now. That didn’t mean you steal a few peeks of the hero here and there on the rare occasion he would show up at the office. Honestly, you forgot he even worked there most of the time. Since you were a rookie and he was an established hero you two rarely crossed paths. You doubted he even knew who you were.

It had been a little over six months since you started at the agency so you were eager to oblige when some of your old classmates extended an invitation to get some drinks and go dancing. The night was great, but like usual you went a little overboard at the bar, but you figured you’d let loose for once. Besides, you had the next day off from work.

It was a little past 2 am when you fumbled out of your Uber, into your apartment, giggling to yourself as you kicked your heels off by the door. Clumsily, drunkenly, you drop the small purse you were carrying, effectively spilling everything out of it. “S-Shit--” you mumble and begin to shove the contents back into the bag. Your hands linger on your phone which is vibrating with texts from your friends asking if you made it home okay. You tap out a few replies to assure your friends you were safe just kinda drunk before you lazily stroll through your messages. Your eyes widen slightly as they rest on a name at the bottom of the list.

Bakugo Katsuki.

A single message he sent when you were lucky enough to work on one of his missions a few months back buried beneath all the other messages. You forgot you had saved it.

You shouldn't.

You wouldn't.

Fuck it.

Quickly you type out a text, deleting and retyping until you’re completely satisfied with it before you hit send.

A dull buzz against his nightstand stirs the blonde from his light slumber, his large hand smacking around in the dark before it finally lands on his phone. His eyes are heavy with sleep and it takes a second to read the screen properly. It’s from an unsaved number. He tosses the phone away with disinterest, rationalizing it as a wrong number. He starts to drift back to sleep when the phone buzzes again. “Fuck’s sake-” He opens the message to drill in a angry reply when his breath hitches in his throat.

hi! remember me??, the first message reads.

The second an expertly taken photo of you clad in matching lace bra and thong, posed in such a way that he could admire all of you.

how about now? The third message makes him throw his phone away from his face.

He definitely remembered you. You were a sidekick, he saw you around sometimes, that tight little body clad in your hero costume. Or sauntering around the office in that fucking pencil skirt/thigh high combo. He tried to remember your name but his mind came up blank.

His phone buzzed again and he rubbed his face with both hands before grabbing it and opening the message. Another goddamn picture. This time you were on your back, on your bed he assumed, because your hair was slightly messy, forming a halo around you. One hand holding the phone, the other at your lips a finger pressed against your perfect pink tongue lolled out of your mouth. Your eyes were glassy and half lidded. He let out groan at the sight of you.

does this help?

He could feel his prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants. His hand dipped beneath the waistband, his first instinct was to palm at his growing length. He chewed his bottom lip, going back to the first picture to inspect your assets more thoroughly this time. He groaned, his strokes long and languid. He closed his eyes, his mind about to wander when he was suddenly hit with a pang of guilt. Tearing his hand from his pants he tossed his phone away. No, no, no, no- he wasn't this fucking desperate. He was not going to get off on some lewd pictures of his coworker just because she was clearly thirsting over him. The thought made his cock twitch in disrespectful betrayal.

His phone began to buzz again. This time it didn't stop, it was rhythmic and slightly lower. Shit. A call. He stared intensely at the number on the screen. His ego got the best of him. He answered it, against his better judgement, promising himself to put this extra in her place. There was a long pause and he nearly hung up.

“Bakugo?” The sweet voice finally rang out of the speaker and his confidence faltered. “You know it’s rude to leave people on read.” There was an obvious teasing tone to your voice, which he swore had a slight slur to it.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing you shitty extra but stop texting me that shit.” He growled into the phone.

“You didn’t like it-”

“I don’t even know your fucking name, asshole.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn it soon enough.”

“I’m going to tell you one more goddamn time if you keep sending me that shit i’m going to-” A soft moan completely derailed his train of thought. Fuuuck. Another slightly louder groan followed. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” He barks into the phone, face flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t stop, aren’t you going to tell me what you’re going to do to me?” You mewl breathlessly, your fingers dancing along your wet folds as you imagined all the things he could do to ruin you.

He licked his lips, wetting them, he had to grip his bedsheets to keep his free hand from wandering back beneath his sweats. “Are you touching yourself right now?” He tried to sound disgusted, but it ended up sounding a little more desperate than he intended.

“I wish it was you touching me instead, Katsuki.” You ask, your tone breathless and dripping with lust. The way his name sounded coming out of your mouth had his eyes rolling back. He wondered how you knew it in the first place.

(Honestly, you saw it while you were helping Burnin’ with some paperwork one night at the office but that wasn’t really the point right now.)

He covered his mouth to stifle a groan that dared escape his lips. The way he saw it he had two options: let you continue and shove his hands down his pants the way he so, so desperately wanted to OR hang up the fucking phone.

“Mmm-! K-Katsuki-” He snapped out of his daze and scrambled to hang up the phone. He tossed it away and thew himself back onto the mattress shoving his hands into his messy blonde hair. “F-Fuck.” He mumbled, groaning at the thought of you getting off to only the sound of his voice.

It wasn’t fair. For you to look the way you did and sound the way you did. He figured you were drunk. The slight slur in your breathy voice, the dazed expression you wore in those sinful selfies you sent him, all idicating as such. That had to be it. There was no other rational explanation. He did the right thing, ending the call.

He wasn’t so pathetically desperate that he had to get off to some drunken extra throwing herself at him.

He was Bakugo Fucking Katsuki.

Ground Zero. Soon to be #1 he—

His phone buzzed again, louder now that it was pressing up against the headboard. Bakugo reluctantly checked the caller id. A fucking video call. No, no. He couldn’t. It would be too much. He was a man after all. With carnal, primal desire welling within him, and right now he was barely keeping those desires at bay. He ignored the call.

Another buzz.

He was fucking stupid.

“FUCK.”

His fingers greedily swiped to answer the call. He was immediately greeted by your beautiful face, you offered a sweet smile and wave. “That wasn't nice, Katsuki, hanging up like that when I was so close.” You were lying on your stomach, feet swaying back and forth in the air behind the curve of your ass. He drank in the sight of you, your face flushed, messy hair framing your face perfectly, your lips plush and slightly pouting.

He cursed himself internally. “So fucking desperate.” His voice was huskier than before, and his words were more akin to a growl.

“Only a little.”

You sat up and rested the phone on something so you no longer had to hold it but ensuring Bakugo still had a great view. You stared at him through the screen and he felt his cheeks heat up, even though you weren’t in the room with him he still felt a little intimidated by your boldness.

You dipped a finger to rub over your clothed entrance, “Now where was I?” You teased, your other hand trailing over your cleavage. Bakugo fumbled with his sweats, sliding his hand down them to palm his aching cock. His ruby orbs memorizing every movement you made. You stop suddenly and he stopped too, a little annoyed. “Something wrong?” He growls, his tone low and thick with want.

“I’m gonna need you to do something for me first.” You say your fingers hooking into the strappy waistband of your thong pulling it away from your full hips teasingly before releasing it, the material hitting your skin with a slight ‘snap’. He ponders it for a moment, but his desire gets the best of him.

“For fucks sake-”He rolls his eyes, “What now?” He asks, clearly skeptical.

“Turn a light on or something, this isn’t a free show-” There's yet another long pause and Bakugo weighs his options. You start to get a bit impatient when a sudden ‘click’ catches your attention. Finally. There he is in all his glory. Well, not all his glory but some of it. It’s still a little dark but those piercing red eyes of him are unmistakable. His gaze makes you flush two shades darker. His appearance is slightly disheveled, his hair is messier than normal, probably bedhead since you most likely woke him up, his cheeks are tinted pink and he looks a little fucked out already. Probably from all the teasing. He looks absolutely perfect.

“Fucking happy now, brat?” He growls.

“Yes! Much better.” You comment, feeling your heat drip from the mere image of him. “I guess I can reward your good behavior..” You trail off, reaching back to unhook your bra, you catch it before it can fall, teasingly biting your lip. You can hear him groan at your teasing, finally you let the lace fall away from your body, giving him a full view. The liquor in your system keeping the shame and embarrassment you would normally be feeling at bay.

“Fucking perfect.” Bakugo groans lowly at the sight. You’re caught off guard by the compliment and you feel your body heat up. He slides his sweats down enough to free his cock from its confines, he makes sure you can’t see him first, only visible from the chest up. He swipes his thumb over the tip spreading the pre cum along the length of his cock before starting slow, languid pumps.

You notice his eyes roll back slightly at the sensation and you almost threaten to stop again if he doesn't show you what he’s doing, but you’re afraid he’ll stop entertaining this foolish idea entirely so you fight the urge to call him out.

Instead you trail your hands along the top of your thighs, “Tell me what you want, Katsuki.” His breath hitches at your words, he smirks darkly before biting his bottom lip.

“Touch yourself.”

You feel a wave of lust wash over you and you pull your panties off eager to please. You spread your legs exposing your soaking folds, you rub a hand lazily along your slit. “Fuck-” You hear him groan at the sight of you.

“Such a dirty little, slut.” A bolt of electricity shoots through you at his words and you can't stop your fingers from dipping into your mess of a cunt.

“So fucking desperate for my attention.”

You are moving your fingers feverishly now, chasing the release you were denied earlier, his words pushing you closer to that blissful edge. Soft moans fall from your lips, your free hand moves to rub clumsy circles against your clit.

He’s keeping pace with you, his strokes matching your movements. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so beautiful like this.” He can’t help the moan that follows his praise. “K-Katsuki, i’m close-” You whimper, eyes watering from the building pleasure in your core. “Did I say you could cum?” He asks his breathing ragged as his own climax sneaks up on him, his strokes become more desperate.

“P-Please, I can’t help it-” You whimper, you can feel your orgasm about to crash down on you.

He can knows how close you are. He can see it.

“Beg for it.”

“K-Katsuki! Please let me—ahh!—cum! Please, K-Katsuki, p-please I really can’t—mnn help it.” You whine, trying your best to be good and hold back for him.

“Cum for me then, Princess.”

You manage a hurried nod and your ministrations become hurried and sloppy. Bakugo’s not doing much better as his shirt is now in between his teeth, the camera tilted slightly giving you a view of his perfect chest. His muffled groans push you closer and closer to your release, as he thrusts up into his hand imagining its you instead. Finally, it all becomes too much and the coil inside snaps, you whine, tossing your head back, “Fuck. Katsuki!” Your fingers move from your core to your clit, wanting to prolong the orgasm as long as possible.

Bakugo bites down even harder on the material between his teeth, desperate to stifle the whimpers falling from him, his face contorts and his eyes nearly roll all the way back. Thick, white ropes of cum make a mess of his exposed stomach. He lets the fabric of his shirt fall from his mouth, his jaw sore from how hard he was biting down. His body relaxes a bit too much as he comes down from his high and he accidentally drops the phone.

“Shit-” You refocus on your own screen, forgetting it was there for a second, you hear him cursing under his breath and fumbling around until you are graced by the view of his flushed, fucked out expression. You offer a sweet smile and he smirks a little in response. “That was great, but i’m a little disappointed it wasn't the real thing.” You admit, forcing a slight pout. You see him visibly stiffen, his pupils dilating at the thought.

“You couldn't handle the real thing, Princess.” He taunts.

“Prove it.”

Fuck now you’ve done it.

“Come over tomorrow.”

“Don’t play games with me, Princess, I don’t like to be teased.”

“I’m serious.” You disappear from the screen for a moment while you type out a text. His phone buzzes in his hand. “That’s my address. Tomorrow around 8 work for you?” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. Fucking bet.

“You’ll regret that. ” He offers a deliciously devilish smirk.

“We’ll see.” You tease back.

“I’m going to bed, it’s fucking—” He moves to look at the time, “-three in the morning—shit.”

“You’re right big day tomorrow! Goodnight, sleepy head!” You muse rolling onto your back. You move to end the call when his voice stops you.

“Wait-”

A pause.

“Tell me your name first.”

#bnha #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #nillabeamwrites #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines

3K notes · View notes

kitawarheit · 3 years

Text

Choke

Hey guys! I decided to post it here too~ Anything this is some Frank x Danny x female reader insert hella self indulgent smut~ Ngl, had someone ask me, "how far do you take your dirty talk?" aaaand here's the example I guess?? lmao Either way it was fun as hell! Enjoy! <3 Can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31056830

Tags include: dub-con (ish), verbal humiliation, dirty talk, name-calling, spitroasting, f/m/m threesome

The Fog had been a living hell, for sure. You dare say you were getting used to this “Entity” and its foul games. The pain didn't seem to feel as bad as when you first got here—or maybe that was just your mind knowing you wouldn't truly die? Your cruel resurrection was inevitable in this hellscape. But, you found solace in the small things. To start, you had the other survivors. The companionship was at least enough to keep you sane (for the most part) until you found a way out. But was there?

Trial after trial, your morale drained slowly—that is, until your curiosity was piqued. Some of these vicious killers were... well, human. For the most part, maybe. Take The Legion for example: although they switched off, they were all still four human punk-asses. Sure, being cat called while chased by Frank or having insults hurled at you while Julie choked you to death wasn't the most ideal thing... But it was a breath of fresh air. There were others, yes, but the most talkative or entertaining ones were primarily Frank and Danny—The Ghostface, as they called him.

Speaking of those two—back to the predicament at hand. How the fuck are two killers allowed to be in a trial at the same time!? It wasn't fair! Not only for obvious reasons but more personal ones... Sometimes, you wanted to punch Frank in his stupid face for his chastising, filthy mouth. But, that was only really because of how hot and bothered it actually made you. You knew back before this shit, you were really into dirty talk and stuff, but here? Now? Surely, The Entity knew and was doing this on purpose.

No, you were absolutely sure The Entity was doing this on purpose when you saw the second killer was Danny. He had a nasty mouth on him too—a bit more aggressive than Frank overall, but it still didn't help you not be affected by his “teasing”. But why? Sure, you enjoyed their talk, even if your brain tried to yell at you that they were there to murder you, not sweet talk you to bed. But did The Entity even give “graces” like this? No, no—it must be for the killers. After all, they were the ones that essentially gave power to this thing.

No matter why or for who, it didn't matter. You weren't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. You deserved a slice of pleasure too, right?

So, here you were, being dragged into the old ski resort lodge, two sets of hands moving over every inch of your body, making you squirm between them.

“Hey, hey,” Frank cooed in a smug tone as you were turned to face him. “Settle down, kitten, we haven't even started yet!”

“She can't help it,” Danny mocked behind you, grabbing your ass, which made you give a squeal of surprise. “She's gonna get double fucked! Any slut would be excited by that.”

“You're right,” Frank practically purred, sliding his hands under your shirt and making his way up to your chest. “I'm surprised she's not already trying to tear out of her clothes.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed weakly, trying to squirm from their grasps—but, the both of them proved to be too strong and they kept you firm in place. “Let me go...!”

“Oh, don't worry, kitten,” Frank said, lifting his mask to sit on the top of his head as he eyed you over. “You'll fuck me soon enough~”

You were too busy examining the details of a face you hadn't seen without the mask to notice Frank giving a nod at Danny. There was a chuckle behind you and, suddenly, Danny had his hands over your torso, ripping open your shirt and pulling the ruined garment off, letting it fall to the floor. Another squeal escaped you as you tried to cover your arms over your chest, face flushed. Of course, Danny wouldn't let you do that as he gripped your wrists and held you in place.

“Fuck, she's got some nice tits,” the man behind you mused.

“Hell yeah, she does,” Frank agreed, brandishing his knife. “Let's get a better look, though...”

Before you could make a protest, Frank's knife slipped under the front of your bra, harshly tugging upwards to tear it in half. Quick on the move, Danny let go of your wrists to let your arms hang low so that he could swiftly tug your destroyed bra off and down to the ground.

“D-Don't touch me,” you shrieked, only to have them do just the opposite. Danny's hand cupped one of your breasts, while Frank toyed with the other, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You were trying so hard not to make noise, but the look on your face must have given you away.

“What a slut,” Frank laughed, making you jolt as he pinched your nipple. “Hmm? You like having killers play around with your tits?”

“Look at her face,” Danny cooed. “She totally does! Nasty bitch~”

Your mind was failing to think of words to says, insults to hurl, threats to make. But, it didn't matter, they were too strong for you and you had nothing to fend them off with. And if the heat pooling in your core had any say in the matter, you were likely going to break anyways. Sooner, rather than later, if they kept this up.

You tried to at least keep quiet—if you couldn't make threats, the least you could do was not make any moans. Your focus was brought back to the situation as Frank cupped your chin, forcing your head up to look at him. For the moment, he had let go of your breast and Danny took full advantage of that by cupping both in his hands, squeezing them.

“Fuck,” Danny grunted behind you. “I've gotta get my dick between these sometime...”

Frank seemed to be searching for something in your face as he looked you over, yet abandoned that endeavor rather quickly. He let go of your chin and scoffed, grabbing hold of your hips now.

“I bet you anything she's already fucking soaked,” Frank mocked, emphasizing his last word as he popped the button of your jeans. “Let's just check that... 'Kay, kitten?”

Frank slipped his palm over your stomach, making his way down as you squirmed in Danny's grasp. He slipped past your pants and toyed with the waistband of your panties briefly before finally slipping his hand down over your folds. There was no warning when Frank brought his head closer, dipping under your chin to bite harshly into your neck, at the same time he pushed two fingers into your pussy. You were already losing yourself, but there was no way you could hold back the moan that ripped past your throat at Frank's actions. You could practically feel his smirk against your neck...

“Ho~ly fuck,” Frank cooed as he released your neck, pulling his head back to look at you while he pulled his fingers out from your jeans, just to hold them in front of your face. Of course, Frank was right —you were already wet by now. “This bitch is a total whore! Look at how wet she is already!”

“Damn,” Danny laughed, pinching both of your nipples in an attempt to draw noise from you. “I guess we got lucky with this one, huh?”

You whimpered softly as Danny pinched again, squirming as you watched Frank make a show of licking his fingers clean. Your mind teetered on the edge between wrong and right, just a touch away from going over and begging for them. In some pathetic last attempt to escape, you tried to pull away again. Frank clicked his teeth and gripped your hips again to hold you in place, Danny giving a light grind into your ass. Fuck, you could already feel how hard he was.

“Please,” you spoke softly, trying not to look Frank in the eye. To this, he roughly grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eye, a smirk tugging his lips upwards.

“Please what, kitten,” he sneered, bringing his face even closer to yours. ...That was it. That was the tipping point and your brain tumbled down the wrong side. But, you didn't give a hot damn. You needed this... and you needed it now.

“Don't tease me,” you breathed out, flashing Frank a look—oh, did he know that look well. The look of letting go and giving in to carnal desire. It was show time.

“That's what we wanna hear,” Danny chuckled, his voice more clear now and you could only assume he took his mask off as well. “A slut in the end—can't resist having some cock in you, right? Even if it's from a killer?”

Frank gave a vicious grin from ear to ear, letting go of your chin to dip his head down against your neck.

“Good girl,” he purred, giving another firm bite before working on pushing your pants and panties down. This time, when he bit into you, you let out a soft whimper, wiggling your pants and panties down the rest of the way to help, then stepped out of them.

Behind you, Danny removed his gloves, letting his bare hands slide down your chest, savoring the warmth of your skin as he kept moving further down. Sure, he knew Frank was right—but he couldn't help to feel for himself as his fingers dipped between your damp folds, his fingertips gliding up and down some. Your breath had already started to become labored from his small actions alone, surely stroking his ego more than it was. You wanted to savor the moment, but Frank seemed a bit impatient.

“Lemme have her,” Frank spoke, a bit of a grumble behind his tone. “I got an idea~”

Frank seemed to enjoy simply tugging you along and keeping you out of the loop. Throwing you over his shoulder like he would to carry you to a hook, that instinctual fear almost began to rise. As Frank started to climb the stairs with you, Danny followed behind, looking just as impatient as the other man.

“Don't worry, baby girl,” Danny cooed, patting your cheek some. “You're not going on a hook. We got something better in mind for you!”

On the second floor, there were a few empty rooms with faded memories of what this place once was, long ago. In one of the rooms, there was a large mattress and pillows, cigarette butts littering the ground with the smell of smoke still rather fresh. This was probably Frank's sort of make shift bedroom, if you had to guess... You almost wanted to ask (why, you weren't sure), but the wind was briefly knocked from you as Frank threw your body on the mattress with ease.

“You're gonna love this, kitten,” Frank hummed as you coughed a bit. “All just for you! I know a little whore like you can probably take more... But we'll start here, okay?”

You weren't sure what he meant and you weren't given any time to dwell on it before he rolled you onto your stomach, just as Danny came around to sit on the mattress, close enough to your face that you could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body. Grabbing your hips, Frank lifted your bottom half up to meet his crotch as he let his erection rub against your ass through his jeans. With a chuckle, he shoved his hips forward, forcing your face into Danny's crotch, making you both groan.

“I know you're excited, kitten,” Frank sneered, giving a harsh slap across your ass. “So get to work! I'm sure my friend here would love to see how talented that slut mouth of yours is~”

Propping your torso up just a bit, you looked up at Danny as he began to unfasten his pants, pushing them down a few inches just to make it easier to take his aching erection out. You couldn't help but stare for a moment, impressed by his girth. Damn, were all the killers like this...? Taking your distraction as hesitation, Danny ran his fingers through your hair, gripping tightly as he tugged your head forward a bit.

“I'm not gonna wait all day, bitch,” Danny sneered, purposefully rubbing himself against your lips. You whined a bit at the tight grip he had on your hair before obeying—placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as the other gripped the base of his cock. You gave one long, broad lick along the underside of his cock, dragging your tongue up until you flicked it off of the tip. Frank rubbed the side of your ass he slapped earlier, as if silently giving praise at the little show.

“Ohh,” Danny groaned, flashing a smirk down at you. “I can already tell she's used that mouth well before. Think she's tried to use it to bargain for the hatch?”

“Probably,” Frank said with a laugh, giving your ass another slap, causing you to gasp out. “At least, I wouldn't put it past her.”

You could feel yourself throbbing, started to become impatient yourself. But you weren't going to beg—oh no, not yet. To keep yourself quiet, you took a few inches of Danny into your mouth, sucking lightly as if to savor him. Danny groaned and muttered small praises to you, so focused on him that you were deaf to the sound of Frank's zipper being pulled down behind you. When you felt his rubbing the tip of his cock against your slit, you gasped, but were unable to stop the soft moan you gave.

“Oh, you're gonna feel so good around my cock,” Frank cooed, rubbing a bit more incessantly. You started sucking harder around Danny's length, trying not to give in to the feeling of Frank rubbing against you. Trying was the key word, but your body acted first, trying to rub back against him for more friction. He gave a click of his tongue and used his free hand to keep your hips still.

“You want it, kitten,” Frank asked with a mocking tone. “You gotta beg for it~”

Danny yanked your head up and off his cock, making you wince as you glanced up at him. Seeing the smirk on Danny's face made your heart jump and you were all too sure that Frank had the same look on his face. Flushed, you chewed your bottom lip a bit, as if a bit embarrassed to say it out loud. Frank gave you an encouraging, yet hard, slap across your ass, making you squeal out and tremble a bit.

“P-Please,” you squeaked out, whining as you tried to press back against Frank. “Fuck me, Frank...! Please...!”

“You want my cock in you,” Frank chuckled, giving another smack to your ass. “Say it, bitch!”

“Y-Yes,” you moaned out. “I want your cock in me, Frank! Please!”

“What a total cock slut,” Danny laughed as he brought your face close to his cock again, making sure you had him in your mouth before releasing his hold on your hair. You felt Frank lining himself up, pushing just the tip in before gripping your hips with both hands. Without warning, he suddenly gave a single, sharp jerk of his hips, thrusting himself inside you to the hilt, causing you to lurch forward and deep throat Danny. You almost gagged on him from the sudden force, but Danny only groaned, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” Frank groaned, keeping still a moment. “She's tight, too... Damn, she feels good!”

Frank pulled you back some, letting you off of Danny's cock to catch your breath, watching you cough a bit from the surprise forced deep throat. Once you were mostly settled, Danny gripped your hair again to guide you back to his throbbing length, rubbing the back of your head encouragingly. Frank pulled out most of the way before speaking up again.

“That was your warning,” Frank taunted, rubbing his thumbs over your hips. “So you better get ready—'cause I'm not stopping until I've filled you up, got it?”

“Do anything you want to me, Frank,” you whined out, glancing over your shoulder at him as your mind clouded with lust. “Please use me...~”

“Damn,” Danny scoffed, turning your face to him again with an amused grin. “She's a compliant little cock sucker.”

“Ohhh,” Frank cooed, fingers digging into your hips. “You just sealed the deal there, babygirl~”

Listening to Frank, you knew this was your one second to attempt to brace yourself. Taking Danny back into your mouth, you pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock, but let your jaw hang slack. If Frank's “warning” was anything to go by, you wouldn't need to be doing much head movement, anticipating his thrusts would be enough to do that for you.

And that it was. Frank showed no mercy, no easing you into it—no, he immediately started with a rough, somewhat quick pace as each thrust would push you back down onto Danny. You had let yourself go well before this point, so there was no trying to suppress your moans, loud and needy as they were. The small vibrations from your moans sent a shiver up Danny's back as he gripped your hair tight again, seeming to be holding back the urge to straight up fuck your mouth.

“Shit,” Danny hissed, leaning his head back some as he savored the feeling of your mouth. “It's gonna feel so good to cum down your throat!”

The anticipation and promise of his words excited you, more so than you thought as your inner walls clenched down around Frank, drawing a low moan from him.

“Easy, kitten,” he groaned, the bruising grip on your hips never letting up. “I know you're a fucking cumslut—nghh—but no need to rush it~”

Frank's pace started to deepen as he was back to burying himself all the way in with each forward snap of his hips. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as everything started to become overwhelming—the way Danny almost hit the back of your throat every time you were shoved forward, the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin from the force of Frank's hips, the pleasurable throb that came each time Frank's cock rammed against your cervix. You were a mewling, moaning (and if you could move, you'd probably also be writhing) mess between the two men.

You could already feel that familiar heat starting to coil down in you as you practically drooled onto Danny's cock, doing your best to rock your hips back against Frank. His grip was stead-fast, but he seemed to let up just a tad to enjoy you trying to fuck yourself back onto him. It earned you a groan from the man behind you, your wet walls throbbing around him in a pleasurable thrum. You were close, you knew it—but it seemed Frank knew this too.

“What a whore,” Frank groaned as he stilled his hips, swatting Danny's hand away so he could grip your hair instead, wrenching your head off of the other man so you could speak properly. Danny made a groan of protest, but allowed it as he was just as eager to hear your cries. “You wanna cum, bitch?”

“Yes, please,” you whined out, frustrated from being so close to your blissful high.

“Yes, what,” Frank sneered.

“I want to cum...! Please, let me cum!”

“And you wanna take our loads like the good little cumdump you are, right?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I-I want to be filled by you both...!”

“Atta girl~”

Frank promptly shoved you back down on Danny as he went back to his brutal pace, close to his own release. As you were shoved down and fucked hard, you finally snapped, your orgasm tearing through your body like a tidal wave. You moaned loud around Danny's length and your pussy clamped down and convulsed around Frank, both being the final push they needed to fill you. Frank bit his lip as he moaned behind you, burying himself all the way before cumming hard inside your willing cunt. Danny gave a few thrusts into your mouth, hand back in your hair, and held your head in place while he released in your mouth, groaning low.

“Swallow you fuckin' cumslut,” Danny growled, keeping a firm grip on the back of your head. You didn't need to be told twice as you swallowed a few times, making sure to take down every last drop. Satisfied, Danny pulled you off of him and released your hair from his grasp. Behind you, you could feel Frank pulling out, taking a moment to admire the view as his cum dripped from you, a few drops hitting the mattress below.

“Damn,” Frank hummed, giving one side of your ass an appreciative rub. “Now that is a good fuck!”

“Fuckin' right,” Danny concurred with a laugh before lifting your chin to meet his eyes. “Give us a sec and we'll get you ready for round two, babygirl. Don't think we're done with you yet~”

#dead by daylight #dbd #fanfiction #reader x killers #danny johnson #frank morrison #the legion #the ghostface #ghostface #smut fic

378 notes · View notes

mianavs · 3 years

Text

Festered Wounds

The insecurities that brought you together now tore you apart

Bakugo x f!reader

a/n: been thinking about toxic relationships lately and realized i needed to write more mha hehe

tw: dubcon, smut, implied abuse

wc: 1.4k+

The belief that you could climb the ladder of success through hard work and dedication had been your lifeline growing up. It was what your father engraved in your mind as he worked ungodly hours just to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. So you did what you had to do in order to avoid working a measly job with your mediocre quirk. You divided your time studying and improving your quirk until your eyelids grew heavy and your muscles ached.

But in the end, hard work wasn’t enough and your growth plateaued after graduating UA. You did all you could to improve your quirk but, at the ripe age of twenty-two, you were found yourself at a dead-end with the promotion from sidekick to pro-hero nowhere in sight.

They say misery loves company and you suppose that was what kept you tethered to Katsuki Bakugo after the initial attraction subsided. Like you, Bakugo had his own insecurities that ate at him the longer Izuku Midoriya remained the Number One Hero and the larger the gap between them grew.

Where the two of you once found solace in your relationship and licked each other’s wounds, it proved to have been only temporary. Your wounds eventually festered and turned your relationship into an unreliable crutch that sometimes supported you and other times let you fall.

The buzzing noise stirred you awake and you reached over to your nightstand to pick up your vibrating phone. You noticed the mail icon on your lock screen after disabling your alarm and your hands trembled as you rubbed the leftover sleep off your eyes. Impatient fingers opened the email but upon reading the first few words any hope you had dissipated.

[Thank you for your interest but, after further consideration, we have decided to pursue other…]

It was your seventh rejection letter that month and you were starting to lose all motivation to keep applying for a pro-hero position at a hero agency.

As you brushed your teeth, you remembered Bakugo’s words after the first few rejection letters you’d shared with him.

“Tch you’re obviously not looking hard enough. There’s gotta be some agency that’ll take you.”

Resentment reared its ugly head as you rinsed out your mouth. Of course he would never know what it was like to get rejected by an agency. As one of the top three heroes, Bakugo had agency’s lining up to recruit him yet his pathetic girlfriend couldn’t even get one. You’d eventually stopped showing him the rejection letters knowing his reprimands would hurt more than help you.

Taking in your reflection that showcased your swollen eyes, you cancelled your plans with your old classmate knowing the only reason she and all the others sought you out was to either brag about their successful careers or to suck up to Katsuki Bakugo’s girlfriend in an attempt to meet him.

You caught yourself before any more ugly emotions towards your boyfriend surfaced. It’d been a recurring action recently and the guilt that proceeded always goaded you to do things for Bakugo. Most of the time, he didn’t notice the extra-mile you went when you cooked, cleaned, or surprised him at work for a quickie during lunch but it was better that way—your shameful feelings were your own to deal with.

After spending the day cleaning, doing laundry, and buying groceries, you were plating Bakugo’s favorite spicy noodles when the sound of the front door slamming shut hampered your good mood. Used to dealing with his episodes, you waited for him to enter the kitchen and remained silent, hoping the sight of food was enough to lessen his anger.

Bakugo was perfectly disheveled when he rounded the corner and appeared before you. His hair was wilder than usual and you knew it was the result of running his fingers through it too many times. The suit jacket he usually wore for meetings was nowhere in sight and you assumed he discarded it somewhere in the living room. His red tie was loose around his neck and the sleeves of his black button-down shirt were pushed up to his elbows.

Under different circumstances, you would have jumped his bones without a second thought but the hostility in his scarlet eyes had you trembling for different reasons.

The plate in your hands was thrown aside, crashing against the wall and painting it an ugly red as the noodles slid down to the tile floor. Your legs moved on their own and you backed away from your boyfriend whose jaw was set, brows were furrowed, and his mouth contorted into a frown that only deepened as you retreated.

“You can’t look at me like they do, Y/N. Not you.” His strained voice was quiet but you recognized the hurt and comforting words spilled out your mouth instantaneously.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, but how about you tell me what happened. Please, let’s just talk—”

Hard hands gripped your shoulders and harsh lips swallowed your plea. He was rougher than usual and his teeth clashed against yours while your lips swelled from his bruising kiss. Pain eventually gave way to pleasure and the longer Bakugo’s warm tongue glided against your tongue the easier it was to surrender yourself to your carnal desires.

With your hands around his neck, Bakugo wasted no time in discarding your apron, bunching your skirt up, and backing you up against the kitchen counter. The press of his hard-on against you was enough for your arousal to leak out and coat your panties. You whimpered when his mouth abandoned yours and the only thing connecting the two of you was a strand of saliva that eventually broke and dribbled down your chin. Through lidded eyes you made out the frustration that replaced anger on his face and supposed it was better than nothing.

Bakugo rocked his hips against your wet panties and he placed open-mouthed kisses on your neck that further incited your need for release. You tugged your boyfriend’s hair and started moving your hips on your own accord which was all it took for him to release his cock, pick you up, and press you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

There was always a painful stretch when he sheathed himself into your cunt but normally Bakugo did a good job prepping you whether it was with his fingers, tongue, or cock. This, unfortunately, wasn’t one of those times and you were gasping in pain and digging your nails onto his clothed back as he hammered into you.

When the pain only increased with each erratic snap of his hips, tears streamed down your face but he merely kissed them away and continued to pound into you while your cunt tightened in discomfort. Your safe word almost left your lips but guilt and concern prevented it from being voiced. Left with no other alternative, you closed your eyes and held onto your boyfriend until his labored pants turned into groans and ropes of hot semen painted your walls in their color. Bakugo set you down after pressing a chaste kiss on your temple and you used whatever strength you had left to leave the kitchen and lock yourself in the bathroom without sparing him a glance.

The turmoil of emotions erupted in the shower and you cried not caring if he heard you. After crawling into bed with a headache, the belief that you’d discarded your hurt and anger in the bathroom was proven wrong when Bakugo entered your shared bedroom. The remorse is evident on his face but instead of making you feel better it incites your resentment.

“I’m sorr—”

“You’re pathetic, you know, taking it out on me. Why do I have to be your punching bag whenever Midoriya one-ups you? Maybe if you fixed your shitty personality you might be able to surpass him. But that’ll never happen will it, Katsuki?”

The cruel words spilled out like vomit; once you started there was no stopping it and in the end you felt empty. You waited for him to counter your insults with attacks about your quirk or your position but he only nodded once before turning around and leaving the room.

You were half asleep when Bakugo came back after showering and crawled into bed. You pretended to be asleep when he eventually pulled you into his warm chest and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

There were countless moments when you were tempted to break it off with him, especially after one of his episodes. The longer your relationship lasted the bigger the arguments, the harsher the insults, and the shorter the moments in between became. But when Bakugo held you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, thoughts of leaving him went out the window and all you felt was love and affection for the man whose insecurities mirrored yours.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo scenarios #bakugo smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou scenarios #bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha scenarios #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #tw: dubcon #tw: smut #navs.mha #navs.fw

193 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 3 years

Text

An Educational Favour: III

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Ghiaccio x reader x Risotto ;), interc0urse, v0yeurism?, degrading, female pejoratives, spanking, overstimulation, stuffed creampuff (if ya get what i mean)

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART III: ⛸Ghiaccio⛸

Soft light blue fabric bounced on your upper thighs as you sped to Ghiaccio’s room to meet up with Risotto and the blue curled grump. The cute ruffled trim tickling you every once in a while, the babydoll negligee making you feel like the cutest little cake topper. You had indulged an inkling that Ghiaccio would like cute and frilly things despite his usual nature. Curious to find out what today had in store as you entered your third guest’s dimly lit bedroom. The two men broke off their conversation to eye you from the very top of your head to the very tip of your toes. A bit taken aback by their staring you softly smiled while waving your fingers at them, starting to feel shy under their hungry gazes. The red frames resting on Ghiaccio’s nose were quite bad at hiding his cheeks that starting flushing in a similar colour. “Hey guys.” Nervously rubbing the ruffled fabric of the flouncy hem between your fingers, your soft voice snapping the two out of the strange spell you had seemed to put them under.

As far as you could tell the men appeared to appreciate today’s choice of lingerie, patting yourself on the back for the excellent choice. “We were just discussing things, come sit.” Risotto informed as you slid next to Ghiaccio on his bed who seemed to have grown anxious as his shoulders tightened and his jaw locked, a big gulp bobbing his Adam’s apple when you inched closer. Nodding to indicate you were listening, hoping that Ghiaccio would start. “Ghiaccio…?” Your capo inquired, giving his knee a quick tap to bring him back to reality. He had been staring in front of him, catatonic almost, while you’d both patiently awaited his plans. The nervous man besides you snapping his head to meet your eager one, taking in the way your compassionate smile tried to calm him down. The space between you seeming too suffocating for a moment, making him breathe out deeply. The gentle hand being placed on his shoulder almost melting right through him. “I’m fine.” The low growl swatted away your kind gesture. “What are we doing today, Ghiaccio?” You tried your best to remain patient with him, still curious to know what he’d like to indulge in.

Risotto didn’t let much slip about what Ghiaccio had revealed about his kinks or desires. He’d assured you it wasn’t too overwhelming to ease your mind that had conjured up the wildest suggestions. “First I need to know you won’t tell anyone what we’ll do today.” His tone had softened, a few drops of nervous sweat slowly drying up again as he recollected himself. Risotto moved back in his seat to offer the man space, the creaky woven chair noisily squeaking as he leaned back into the pastel coloured cushions, the sight of his darker and goth like aesthetic against the softer hues of Ghiaccio’s interior offering quite the comical contrast.

“I promise. You have my word, Ghiaccio.” Another sympathetic hand squeezing his thigh, offering a small smile, urging him to continue. You kindness moved away the heavy fog that clouded his anxious thoughts, choosing to indulge in your sweetness rather than swatting it away again. “Ok. Risotto told me you’re very comfortable with stuff already. A little too eager maybe…” he trailed off as you shot the dark eyed capo a frown, only making his dimple appear, enjoying teasing you. “Uh-huh, ok.” Turning your attention back to tonight's guest for his follow up. “Well I can get worked up during…you know-” he gestured vaguely, indicating he meant sex. It made you huff out a chuckle at his choice to not say it. His voice grew quieter as he continued. “I want to spank you… call you mean things. If that’s ok. And…” the hesitation so obvious but his tone so kind and demure for once. The idea of being spanked and called names already peaking your interests as you pressed your thighs together in anticipation. “And?” You urged him on. “Risotto can join as well… I mean I’ll do everything but he can hold onto you.” For a moment there it had almost felt like all your dreams came true, a rush of pure lustful energy coursing through you as you perked up, eagerly searching for your capo’s approval. “It’s fine by me.” At this point you were practically hopping up and down next to Ghiaccio who seemed to grow less nervous now, unclenching his jaw and placing his hand over the one you’d rested on his thigh, avoiding your delighted smile and excited noises as he stared off, rosy cheeks growing even darker.

He’d been slightly nervous about the whole ordeal, having heard little about the previous escapades from his teammates other than that you were ever so delicious. Having to be so vulnerable made him all the more anxious, wondering if you’d let him cuddle you afterwards, something he so desperately craved after the roughness. The idea of his capo there as well had brought him peace of mind, just like it did for you. The man always had a knack to offer his stern voice as a guiding beacon to settle Ghiaccio’s frustrations, grounding him back into clarity.

You couldn’t help but admire Ghiaccio as he removed his top, his muscled arms and broad shoulder being revealed to you for the first time. He’d asked you to keep your pretty outfit on and to only take off the matching panties, them quickly being placed on his desk. Risotto had taken a seat at the head of Ghiaccio’s bed, resting topless against the headboard, his torso never having looked more inviting as your hungry eyes traced his well defined abs. Those dark eyes trained on you, hazed over in desire and the idea of having you in his arms while you’re being pleasured. The thought alone making his growing bulge twitch. Ghiaccio had removed his trousers as well now, his silk blue boxers the only thing separating his hardness from the open air.

You gave him a few innocent blinks, awaiting the man to take action, his hunger was clear in his harsh glare that kept moving between your chest and eyes appreciatively. He grabbed onto your shoulders with a strong grip, swiftly placing you between him and Risotto. Those sturdy hands letting go and traveling up to clutch your face tightly as he met your lips with bruising strength. His hold was strong and full of need, his tongue racing to lap around yours as he breathed heavily. No choice but to meet his power, straddling onto his seated hips and letting your hands roam his back, toying with his curls as he nipped at your lips while coming up for air. “God you’re such a gorgeous slut. I want to fuck you into the mattress till you can’t even breathe anymore.” His nasty words tickling your neck as he worked his way down, lightly spanking one of your cheeks behind you with a velvety groan. The slight tap making your core clench around nothing, feeling his hardness grow underneath you. Seeing how the tap didn’t affect you just yet, he opted to provide another one, this time with thrice the power. “Fuck Ghiaccio!” You hissed while grinding your hips into his cock, breathing heavily down his neck. His ferocity was intoxicating, almost animalistic and drenched in longing.

As you clung to his hips he moved you in between your capo’s legs, almost too flustered by the icy haired one’s actions, making it slip your mind Risotto would also be a part of tonight’s activities. If only a little bit. His chest felt so nice against your back, his warmth radiating against you as he swung one arm around your waist, securing you in place. He hummed in appreciation as Ghiaccio fervently worked down your body, rolling a nipple through the thin light blue fabric and kneading and massaging your other breast. “I’m gonna make you come before spanking your ass raw while I pound into you. Such a good cock slut.” His growls only made your core ache in anticipation, thoroughly wet already and awaiting any attention. Letting out soft hisses whenever he pinched you too hard, the stings only preparing you for the spanking in mind.

The way Risotto breathed deeply and the feeling of his clothed hard cock grazing the small of your back, the way Ghiaccio was sliding down to move open your legs, made a loud needy moan escape your plump lips. Begging him to please you, tired of clenching around nothing. “Fill me Ghiaccio please!” You pleading so pathetic it only made the man move faster than he already was. The nerves from before having been completely replaced by carnal desire. “You’re such a needy whore, begging me to fuck you.” His growl grazing your folds as he got down between your legs. You felt the arm around your waist tighten and the hard cock behind you twitch as the wet sounds of Ghiaccio starting to lap at your pussy began. Another deep growl vibrating straight through you this time as he tasted your wetness. “You even taste sweet, like you were made to be used like this.” The brims of his glasses had started to fog as he got down again, suckling on your clit and moving his tongue in alternating motions, the sensation as good as you remembered. More mewls and desperate moans filled the air, another team member who clearly knew how to please you. Every lick and suck sending fiery jolts through your body, your hips bucking up to meet his hot mouth.

After a slight shift, Ghiaccio slid a thick digit inside of your wanton core, the squelching of your juices so lewd as he pressed deeper, grasping walls already moving against it. The welcome entry of another one filling you making your breath hitch, the fingers felt quite chilly inside you while you clenched around him with need. With a swift stroke he moved his wetted fingers out, up and inside your slacked mouth, making you taste your own sweet essence. “You even like the taste of your own pussy. Of course you do, such dirty bitch.” His fingers only slid deeper as you lapped at them, sucking off all you could, slightly choking as he reached your limit. Your spit now mixed on his digits as he slid them out, drool sloppily still connecting them to your lips, working them back between your wet folds. Returning to his previous position to suckle at your throbbing bud of nerves while working his fingers in and out with great power and tempo. Just like he’d warned you, he was getting worked up, cheeks red and forehead sweaty as he aimed to please.

His actions making you babble his name over and over intermingled with “oh fuck”’s, nails digging into Risotto’s arm around your waist. The fast movement of his fingers stimulated your senses as he worked your clit with his able mouth. “Come for me you nasty slut!” You had been close already but his awful words only drove you further, toppling over the edge and letting the waves of pleasure take you over while his movements didn’t even slow. He let you moan and writhe until his jaw hurt and his fingers cramped, the overstimulation burning but not before he coaxed another orgasm out of you. It came on amazingly fast and unexpected, it almost made you scream at how deep it hit you. Ghiaccio had stopped his mouth now, wiping your juices from his chin while panting. His fingers slowing down as the final clenches eased around them. Out of breath and thoroughly fucked out by his fingers you started to release your iron grip on Risotto’s arm, crescent moons denting his tender skin.

“Fuck Ghiaccio…” mind still recollecting itself after the double orgasm he just so kindly delivered. “Now it’s my turn.” Licking his lips while a lecherous smirk ate up your tired expression. A quick nod to his capo and the warmth of his grasp left you, another quick motion later and he’d pulled you back from Risotto before flipping you over. Face down into your capo’s hard cock, still constrained under his trousers. The man behind you dipping the mattress after slipping off his silken shorts, already having left a wet spot of leaking pre-come in them from all the excitement.

You felt him line up at your entrance, his spongy head teasing you as he firmly gripped the base. “You gonna take me like the slut you are?” His voice was never that displeasing to the ears when calm but his usual growls would be forever changed after tonight. No longer making you wish he calmed down, instead wishing they growled how much of a good slut you were. When you only replied with a hum, mind still recovering, he offered a loud smack to your asscheek that was so invitingly staring back at him, both waiting to get painted red by his taps.

“Answer me!” Another harsh slap, this time on the other, the stinging mixing with the lingering pleasure of your orgasms making it hard to mutter anything as your legs trembled. “Yes Ghiaccio! Please…” Unashamed you felt yourself drooling over Risotto’s cock as he held your head gently. His thumb ever so lightly caressing your cheek, finally letting himself touch you after much hesitation. He couldn’t deny it, seeing you like this, barely able to speak from pleasure made him throb. You were doing so good, it only made him want to ravage you more.

Pleased with your answer he slid inside your waiting hole, so incredibly wet that there was no set back as Ghiaccio slid inside. You fit so nicely around him, his length felt less girthy than the others but enough length to reach all the way to the most pleasurable spots inside you. With every slam into you he reached so deep, heavy balls smacking against you with every move. Small moans coming from your cute little mouth as you tiredly basked in satisfaction, your walls clenching around him every so often making him twitch and hiss, followed up by another hard spank on your ass. It had grown so beautifully red as Ghiaccio admired his work while continuing his thrusts.

Risotto’s soft ministrations on your neck and cheek bringing you comfort while ferociously getting slammed into, every move rubbing you further into his groin. A curious hand coming to slide over his clothed cock. In your hazy state you still wished to please your capo, this had been the closest you’ve ever been to him. It felt like a gift to have him under you, so hard and excited. Part of your initial request to have him educate you on the world of desire coming to fruition. With every harsh thrust, you moved over his cock, grabbing onto it through his clothes. An almost unintelligible hiss coming from his softly parted lips, they looked so inviting.

Ghiaccio’s grunting behind you got louder and louder, his thrusts were starting to falter into helpless shakes. The way you clenched around him after hitting deep inside you making him moan. The sound so sweet and needy as you gripped your capo tighter and worked faster, the man behind you was getting awfully close and you still had a job to do. Offering wet sloppy kisses to Risotto’s clothed cock every few strokes to get him closer, his pets on your cheek still continuing as his grip and your head tightened. He was close as well. “I’m gonna come inside your wrecked pussy!” The harshest slaps you’ve received all night being planted on your cheeks as his sloppy speed quickened. His movements had made a deeper wave of pleasure build up in your core, ready to spill over just as he was.

Loud groans filled the air as hot ropes of come filled you up, the feeling of the warm drips making you help fill the room with the most lewd sounds. But your cup was so close to overflowing, still needy for another orgasm and that of your capo. “Keep going Ghiaccio… f-fuck.” You muttered, a wet puddle of drool staining your capo’s pants as you fervently worked his shaft. “You’re such a fucking slut.” The man behind you growled as he kept working in and out of you, his come coating you so nicely as his cock slid easily with his movements. If only you could so how blazed red his face was, trying his best to keep going as the overstimulation made him hold his breath. Finally you felt the rush of heat move over you, legs trembling as you gripped Risotto’s cock, urging him to come for you during your own loud moans. Ghiaccio’s pace faltered completely, the way you squeezed around him pulling the sweetest mewls from him. “Sh-i-it.” His breath hitched as he felt a final rush of pleasure careen through him.

Finally you felt your capo twitch under your hand, working him through his orgasm as you hazily recovered from yours. That deep sigh of relief letting you know he was satisfied, his large finger’s movement had slowed down considerably until they stopped, resting on your flushed face.

Ghiaccio pulled out, too exhausted to even admire the way his come was leaking out of you. Your tired knees sliding down onto the mattress as you regained your breath. Risotto moved you over next to him, Ghiaccio sliding against the far right side of his bed to lay next to you. The bed was tight for three people so you took Ghiaccio into your arms, letting him rest his head into the crook of your neck as you cradled him. The grump too tired to protest and if he’s being honest with himself, it was just what he needed and hoped for. To rest in gentle arms after a job well done. Risotto’s large figure spooning you from the other side while gently caressing your arm as his chin rested on top of your head.

All worked out and sleepy, the three of you lay there, no shame or embarrassment. Blissfully indulging in each other’s intimacy. A lazy hand from your blue haired teammate came over to lightly pet your outer thigh. “Do you want me to ice that?” Remembering how red he’d slapped your behind, hoping he hadn’t been too harsh. “Mhh… later. Let’s rest first.” You yawned, not even bothered by the mess seeping out of you. Too worked out to worry about it now.

As you recollected your thoughts, that goofy worn out smile resting on your lips, you made sure to encapsulate what you’d learned today. Everything about the combo of being degraded, used and spanked turned you on. The contrast of the loving holds on each other offering a comforting conclusion. Feeling a smug satisfaction over having been able to work your capo twirling around your mind as you gently played with the blue curls resting in your neck. “That was fun.” You whispered, hoping your companions were still lucid to hear it.

#i may be in love with ghiaccio #dw they got cleaned up after :)#jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto x reader #la squadra fic #risotto nero #ghiaccio #jjba x y/n #jjba imagines #jjba smut #la squadra #not sfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #ghiaccio x reader x risotto

184 notes · View notes

cummingforkylo · 4 years

Note

If your requests are still open, could you write a Kylo X Female Reader smut with inappropriate use of his lightsaber and just really rough, hot, and wild sex, with hair pulling, ass smacking, and then overstimulation from multiple orgasms? I just can't get over imagining Kylo fucking me senseless until I'm a wordless sweaty mess and cumming over and over and over again while sobbing and not being able to control cumming so much oh god help me I'm a mess for this man im so sorry ugh

I combined a bunch of these because they seemed to…fit together. I created a Frankenstein monster of a drabble. Its reallly long and its shameless fucking smut. I’ve spent the better part of my afternoon on it, I hope you like it!

BegRating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon?, inappropriate use of a lightsaber, nasty sex, shameless smut, name callingWord count: 2,865Prompt: You have dreams about the Supreme Leader, you didn’t realize he saw them.

You didn’t know Kylo Ren, you had only seen him, only heard the stories and yet, your dreams were always of him. You always woke sweating, your legs tangled up in the sheets, your underwear wet, your pussy throbbing from just…dreams of him. Dreams of his eyes on you, watching you, dreams of his hands caressing their way up your thighs. The dreams were filled with the sound of his deep, commanding voice and the buzz of his lightsaber. You hated yourself for it, but there was something about him, the anger, the brute force, the indifference to life that made you ache deep within. So you dreamt. You dreamt every night of what it might feel like. What he would feel like. Every morning you woke up still tired, and the dreams continued to weigh on your conscious mind throughout your days.

One night, things changed though, instead of waking up in the morning. You were brought to consciousness, out of your haze halfway through your sleep cycle. You were groggy but as soon as your eyes opened you could feel something different. Something off, something was wrong. You blinked and sat up, you thought you saw something but you couldn’t be sure. You told yourself you were just reacting to the dreams. You pushed yourself out of bed and went to your table to pour yourself water from the carafe. You stood there in your t-shirt and underwear and sipped your water, trying to calm down your racing thoughts and your excited body. That was when you saw him, Kylo Ren, standing by your door, his eyes trained on you. You nearly screamed but the sound stuck in your throat. You had just been dreaming about him and like a dark apparition, here he was. You swallowed thickly, trying to wet your bone dry throat.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped out, unsure if you needed to call him ‘sir’ when he was intruding on your room. His expression was amused as he raised his eyebrows,

“What are you doing dreaming about me?” He countered. Your insides went cold, it felt as though your vision tunneled as you stared at him and you realized he had seen or sensed your dreams. The fear coursed through your veins, sending icy shocks with it, but even as it did, it mixed with the heat that your dream had produced. The two fought with each other inside you, burning and cool. Fear and excitement. They mingled and became one thing inside of you, raging around.

“I…” You tried to speak and he rolled his eyes, he took the few long strides from the door to your table until he stood right in front of you. You backed up until you bumped into the table and he still came closer to you. In one fast movement he grabbed your hips and shoved you back so you were sitting on the table. “I-I…”

“You…you…you what?” Kylo asked mimicking the nervous way you had stuttered as you sat up on the table and stared into his eyes. You tried to rip yourself away from him, struggling to push back but he lifted his hand and involuntarily your arms snapped to your sides. Your hands felt like they were glued to the table, you tried to struggle against the invisible bonds but they seemed to get tighter and tighter the longer you struggled.

“Don’t you struggle with me, girl.” He snarled, still standing above you, staring down at you, his expression dark.

“Why not?” You snapped, “You’ve come into my room to…to..what!?” Your voice was ragged and you hated how scared it sounded.

“You dreamt of me.” His voice seemed to fill the room without even trying. The deep baritone reverberated inside of you, through your stomach, into your spine. “You wanted this, you begged for more in your dream. I’m merely fulfilling all your fantasies.” He said.

You whined and struggled, but it was a pathetic, feeble attempt to kick your feet. Kylo’s huge hand wrapped around your ankle, shoving it back so your foot was on the table to. Arms still trapped, unable to catch yourself, you fell back against the table knocking the carafe off with a loud clatter. He stood above you and you laid there with your back against the table, one foot up on the table while the other dangled. A sob escaped your chest and Kylo grabbed the other ankle and forced it back, setting that foot on the table too. You couldn’t struggle properly and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

“You have filthy dreams about your Supreme Leader and then want to pretend you don’t like it when it actually happens?” he asked, his hand stroked up your bare thigh in and almost…soft way. He wasn’t wearing gloves and his hand felt hot, and good. You found the will to struggle ebbing away, your legs twitched. You wanted more. There was a gush in your pussy, you were somehow getting wetter than you already had been from the dream. His fingers brushed up your thighs and then back down to your knees. It only took him pressing on the inside of your legs a little to get them to fall open and back. “See? You do want it.” He breathed.

You let out a whine and you looked up at him.

“Should we see how wet you got, dreaming about your superior?” he asked. You wanted to tell him no, you wanted to beg him not to pull your underwear off, it was humiliating and horrifying to even think of him doing it. You couldn’t pull those words out from yourself though, you couldn’t make yourself say it. You wanted it too much. Your whole body was nothing but want now. Your mind was going blank because of his touch, because of his words reverberating through your whole being. Kylo’s hands found the sides of your underwear and in a fluid motion he pulled them down and off of your feet. Automatically, your legs opened for him again and you watched an expression flicker across his face.

Dark power, a deep hunger, tinged with carnal lust crossed his face as you did what he wanted without even being told. His eyes focused on your exposed sex, and you burned with shame and pleasure. You could feel your lips parting and the wetness that blossomed at your entrance spreading over your lips. His fingers found your slit and he stroked his index finger down it, catching the wetness. Your body reacted instantly, you tensed at the feeling of his finger, finally on you. Just that one touch sent a spasm through your body.

“Slut, I’ve barely started and you’re already twitching.” He said. His finger slid back up your slit and then stopped. You shivered as you felt it resting against your clit. He didn’t move it, he just kept it there and looked down at your face. Your brow furrowed, your mouth opened and you stared at him.

“Will you do as I say?” he asked, that voice…the voice in your dreams, the voice that had sent chills all through your body for days. You knew you should say no. You knew you should have been fighting it but you couldn’t say no to that voice, especially with his finger on your clit. “It will make things easier if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Good.” He said and you knew that you had never really had a choice. Kylo’s finger stroked across your clit, and you gasped at the feeling. It sent sharp, hot, rods of pleasure shooting through your body and your legs twitched open even more, pulling back. His eyes dropped to your cunt and he watched as his finger delicately traced around your clit. Over and over you felt him make tight circles around that extremely sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe he would stroke you like this, so soft, gentle. It was pulling your orgasm towards the surface, you gasped and pressed your body forward towards his fingers.

“Ohhh! Yes…” You moaned. Kylo swiped his finger across your clit now, gentle strokes but unrelenting. You wanted to cum so badly, it was so close to the surface. All your dreams and his touch now was mounting inside of you.

“Would you like to cum?” his voice, almost bored, spoke to you from what felt like very far away. You nodded feverishly. “Beg.” He said simply.

“Please! Please…please, I want to cum so fucking badly. Please!” You whined. “Please! Fuck!” you pressed your hips up, needing more. Needing him to run his fingers across your little bud over and over until you could be released from this need. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please!” You gasped.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, slut. But no. You don’t get to cum.” He pulled his hand away from you and you gasped in horror. Disappointment, and boiling frustration surged inside of you. Tears pricked your eyes and he watched, amused as you tried not to cry in front of him. You barely had time to think about your tears because his fingers were at your clit again, rubbing along the sides, stroking it repeatedly, over and over. Your brain was in a fog, you could only focus on the pleasure and breathing, there was nothing else. It went on and on with you getting closer and closer until his voice floated to you,

“Beg.”

“Nooooo,” you sobbed, because you knew nothing would be good enough now. You whined and squirmed, trying to make the right begging noises. “Please, Kylo…sir…please! I n-need to cum! Please!” You said, holding out the vague hope he would let you.

“No.” He spat the word out and pulled his hand back. You started to sob now, tears slipped out of our eyes and you struggled agains the Force that still held your arms down.

“F-fuck you.” You sobbed, your voice cracking. You regretted it a second later when his hand came down hard on your cunt, smacking it with such force it knocked the breath out of you. Your pussy throbbed with the pain, the sting reverberating through your clit and down inside of you. You choked on air. Faster than you could even pay attention to in your fuddled state he moved his hand to his belt and unclasped his lightsaber.

“You want more?” he asked, pulling it up to you.

“Yes!” You sobbed without thinking. Kylo flipped the saber in his hand so the bottom end was pointed towards you. Your body tensed up and his eyes glinted. You recoiled from you but his hand grabbed your hip, keeping you in place.

“You want more so badly, I can show you more.” He said, you looked up into his face, he looked wild. His eyes were black with lust and the air of power surrounding him crackled. He pressed the bottom of the saber against your pussy, it was icy cold and shivers ran through you at the first touch.

He let go of your hip, trusting you would stay still and he gently spread your lips, opening you so he could press the saber handle into your tight cunt. You twitched as you felt yourself stretch around the cold, unforgiving metal. Your walls contracted, and you were unsure if it was trying to drag it in farther or rid your body of the intrusion. Your breathing was wrecked and you sobbed with need, pain and pleasure as he pressed it in farther. Each bump, each ridge caught against the inner lips of your vagina, swirling the pleasure inside you. It ached so deep inside, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as it was as far as it could go inside of you he pulled his hand away and just looked at you. He examined his efforts, splayed out in front of him. You legs open wide as you lay on the table, his weapon sunk deep in your cunt which struggled to stretch open for it. You gasped for breath and rolled your hips with need.

“Your cunt is so needy for me, slut.” He breathed as his hand came back to the soft flesh of your pussy and he stroked his thumb over your exposed clit. You jumped at the feeling. That, combined with the feeling of his saber inside of you, filling you up made you clench and nearly cum on the spot. “No cumming.” He said. “I’ll tell you when or if you’re allowed to cum.” His voice was so dangerous, all you could do was whimper.

His thumb stroked over your clit and his other hand grasped his lightsaber again, he dragged it back out of you and then in again, fucking you slowly and deliberately with it, watching as you writhed underneath him. The pressure mounted inside of you, it was so close again and you garbled out your desperate pleas,

“Please, sir! Please! I’ll do anything. I need to cum! Please! I need it! I need to,” you sobbed with longing. All the opportunities you had had to give yourself an orgasm before this that you hadn’t taken flashed in front of you, now all you wanted was that feeling and he was in control of it. Kylo’s thumb stroked your clit and you bucked your hips up into him, fucking yourself on his weapon.

“I need it, yes, oh stars! Yes! Please, ohhh please.” You sobbed, tears rolling out of your cheeks.

“Cum, you stupid slut, cum.” He growled all of a sudden and his thumb pressed against your clit, his hand still using the lightsaber to steadily fuck you. A half scream, half sob was pulled from your chest as the feeling washed over you. The orgasm cascaded in waves over you as you pressed your hips up and his thumb unrelentingly stroked your overly sensitive clit. As it started to subside, the feeling began to be too much and you tried to close your legs.

“You wanted this,” He growled as he ripped the saber out of your pussy. He shoved your legs back and the suddenly the Force locked them open, like how your arms were locked down. You were spread open for him, unable to cover the burning, too sensitive flesh. He stroked your clit, and everything burned, it was too much and you shook, gasping, sobbing, shaking your head.

“No! No more! Please! No more” You begged.

“You wanted to cum, so fucking cum, whore.” He said. His hand didn’t move from your cunt, as his other hand struggled to get his pants undone, shoving the layers of clothing aside. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t recoil. All you could do was live in the pulsing pleasure that wracked your body. Another orgasm mounted and was unwillingly pulled from you, making you quake underneath him. Kylo pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and you saw his wild eyes looking down at it, watching as he slowly pressed it inside. The feeling of him inside you was so good and combined with the constant movement from his thumb against your clitoris it pushed you over the edge again. Even though you were exhausted and felt like you could take no more, you came again. His hips started to move, beating into yours. His cock was huge, and with each time you came you felt like he was breaking you apart little by little.

“Oh fuck! Kylo! I’m yours…all yours…ohhh fuck me! Fuck me!” you moaned. His thrusts were rough and painful in your throbbing, swollen and dripping cunt but it made you unravel around him.

“You are mine, slut. You’re mine.” He growled. He ripped his hand away from your pussy and he leaned over you , looking into your eyes, “Do you hear that? You’re mine.” He said. He hissed out another moaan as your eyes connected and he could see the need there. You were going to come yet again, just from his cock this time. Your mouth opened in a low moan and you clenched hard around him. You found you could move your arms again, he couldn’t concentrate on keeping you held down anymore, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought yourself close to him. His hand found your hair and he tugged it hard.

“Fuck!” He said, trying to bite back the emotion in his ragged voice. As you came, his cock spasmed and filled you with his hot cum. You stayed against him, your arms around his neck and now your legs wrapping around him. He lifted you up so he held you against him, his hand loosening in your hair so he just cradled your head. Your breathing was labored but he held you until both of you returned to reality, relaxing into him. Your room seemed too quiet. Life didn’t seem right because he was no longer inside you.

“You’re mine.” He said quietly into your ear and you were okay with it.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #reader insert #kylo ren smut #kylo x you #kylo x reader #ben solo #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars smut #requests #writing #fanfiction #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfics

2K notes · View notes

remember-to-be-gentle · 4 years

Note

Hello! I’m excited to see you are accepting requests. Yandere Mirio finally gets his hands on his darling, he has been stalking her for a whole and he want to show reader his love and affection noncon nsfw please and thank you! 💛

Subject: BNHA, Tamaki Amajiki aka Suneatee

Title: Let Me Show You My Love (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Non con, stalking, drugs + aphrodisiac, gag + tied up,

You’d called the police more times than you could count. Every time they told you not to worry, stalkers couldn’t close to their targets, not with hero society evolving as it is. There were too many caped crusaders on the street, someone would help you when the time came. Of course, they also didn’t believe you when you told them the one stalking you was none other than rising top hero Suneater. It would only be matter of time before he came for you.

A small part of you hoped the police were right.

As you were coming home from work, exhausted and sore, you saw your front door was open. You pulled out your phone to call the police and your stomach sank when you saw the screen wouldn’t turn back on. It had died during your shift. A sense of panic began to beat inside your chest, growing with every pump of your heart. Maybe you could go to the neighbors, ask them for help or—.

“I’m sorry.” You stared at Suneater in your house. Dressed in civilian clothing, you almost didn’t recognize with so much of his face exposed. “Can we talk, please? I just think I need to explain myself...”

He looked so pathetic standing there, the points of his ears low, hands nervously twisting in front of him. He looked harmless. You shook your head. This man was a professional hero, quickly climbing the ranks within the top fifty spots. Suneater, down in his civics as Tamaki, was far from harmless.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said.

His ears drooped lower. It would have been cute if he hadn’t been stalking you. “Please? I promise I’ll be fast and if you don’t like what you hear, I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”

“Fine.” Anything to get this over with. You followed him into your house where you saw he’d set up tea, the kettle still steaming on a large coaster that wasn’t yours. Was he bringing his own things into your house now? Tamaki pulled a chair out for you and you begrudgingly sat. He moved across to the other side of the table and sat himself down, slowly picking up his cup of tea, hands shaking.

That’s what you should be doing: shaking but for some reason, you felt calm. Maybe it was the anger calming your nerves. You picked up your cup and took a sip. It was chamomile. It tasted salty. Tamaki must not have been great at making tea. Something else you may have found charming if he hadn’t been stalking you. “Talk.”

Tamaki nodded. “I feel bad for making you uncomfortable.” His voice was soft, shaking. “I never wanted to hurt you, just wanted to make sure you were safe.” He took another sip of tea. “I know you’re lonely and you hate your job and I just wanted to ease some of your anxiety by keeping an eye on you.” He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I didn’t realize that doing so without your permission may have not only crossed boundaries but also make the problem worse.”

There was something off about the way he was speaking. Did Tamaki always talk this much? Plus your head was feeling empty, woozy like a wind you couldn’t feel was making it spin in circles. You didn’t feel so good.

“Don’t worry,” Tamaki continued, “I’m going to make sure you won’t have to worry about anything again.”

Suddenly you couldn’t hold your head up anymore. You had to lay it on the table, sleeping clawing at your consciousness, eyes twitching shut and unable to stay open. What the hell was in that tea?

“I love you, you know.” Tamaki’s voice was right beside your ear. “I love more than you’ll ever understand and I think it's time I show just a fraction of that love.” He covered your eyes.

When you woke up, you were tied up in your own bed. Your body on fire with something you couldn’t quite name, a deep aching in your core like a carnal hunger. Your clothes had been stripped off you, leaving you bare and exposed. At your beside, Tamaki was also stripped down, his cheeks red as he shakily tugged a condom on his erection.

You must have made a sound because Tamaki jumped, his gaze turning to you. Relief swept through him. “You’re awake.” He climbed on top of you, straddling your waist, his plush balls pressing into your stomach. “I’m sorry I had to do this, but I didn’t think there was any other way you would have let me show you the affection you deserve.” He buried his face into your throat, inhaling your scent as he did. The tip of his nose was cold against your skin. A low groan escaped his throat. His hot cock twitched against your belly.

Hot rage coiled in the back of your throat like bile. You tried to cuss him out, curse him away, but your jaw wouldn’t move around something in your mouth. Tamaki had gagged you. Anxiety stricken, nervous handshaking Tamaki drugged and gagged you. He said, “I’ll make you feel good. And then you’ll know love.”

Tamaki kissed you then, right behind your ear, his lips soft and warm. Those delicate kisses trailing down to your jaw then suckling at your throat. Teeth scraped skin each time he moved, uncharacteristically bold with each sweep of his mouth. Soft tingling started in your toes, crawling up your body until your clit started to ache.

Kisses like these shouldn’t have excited you so much, got your core twisting so much, and if it were not for the gag in your mouth you would be moaning.

Tamaki moved lover, all the way down to your nipples. He took one into his mouth, suckling gently while his hand began to pull and massage your other one. His lower body wiggled between your legs, his erection poking your inner thigh. “You’re so soft,” he murmured against your skin. “I want to be inside you forever.”

He pulled back dragging his hands down your body to your weeping slit. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” One hand remained on your hip while the other slid inside you, two long gently probing fingers. You whimpered against your restraint, feeling yourself tightening around his intruding digits. You were on fire with pleasure, so much more than a simple fingering should have given you. There must have been an aphrodisiac in the tea as well, not just a sleep drug.

Tamaki began to speak quietly, his voice so soft that you could only hear a few words. “Wet, inside, mine, love, full.” Those fingers kept pumping away inside you until you thought you’d cum. With a final, impatient thrust, Tamaki pulled his fingers out of you, grabbing his shaft to push inside.

You could feel him stretching you out, pressing further and further in until the head of his cock was pressing against your cervix. He shuddered at the feeling of you around him, whimpering at the sensation whispering about how good you felt. “I can give this to you every day,” he whined, “every day I’ll worship your body like you deserve. I’ll wait on you, hand and foot. Anything to make you happy.” He buried his face between your breasts, wrapping his arms around your back. “I’m so glad I decided to show you my love. I’ve waited so long for this.”

#raven writes #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #bnha #my hero academia #male yandere #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere tamaki amajiki x reader #suneater #yandere suneater x reaader #suneater x reader #yandere suneater #tw non con #tw stalking #tw gag #tw tied up #tw drugs

272 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years

Text

the marble king, part 11 [read on ao3] [rated M for adult situations]

“I was speaking to your mother while you went to market,” his wife said as they settled back into their bed for the night.

For the time, they were lingering a few extra days in Messalia. It was difficult not to--Venice did not have his mother’s cooking, nor his sister's sweet smiles, and Paul was much better at teaching Annabeth Italian than Percy. As well, Percy needed to go and convert some of their money to florins and ducats and the like, far, far more money than he had ever thought he would ever possess. He was very glad for his step-father’s assistance in this manner; neither he nor Annabeth were terribly talented with numbers, and there were quite a lot of calculations to be done. He was equally glad for the affection between his wife and his mother; that the two most important women in his life got on so well was very pleasing to him. “Oh, yes?”

“I had some questions about pregnancy.”

He turned to look at her, a sudden flutter in his stomach. She had not told him of any new complaints or complications, but perhaps she had shared them with a trusted woman. “Are you well?” he asked.

Annabeth pursued her lips, frowning so hard he could nearly see the interconnected web of her clever mind. “I... must admit I have a problem.”

Percy raised himself on one arm, concerned. “A problem? Is it serious?”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “Your mother assured me it was perfectly normal. However, I may require your…” Annabeth trailed off, then, glancing uneasily at him. “...Your assistance.”

“Anything,” he said, laying a hand on her arm. Such casual touches still managed to thrill him, sending shivers down his spine. “I am at your disposal.”

“I am…” She swallowed, licking her lips. Percy’s eyes could not help but track the movement. “That is, your mother assured me it was normal for a woman in the last stages of her pregnancy to be taken with certain… needs. So to speak.”

“Of course,” Percy nodded. Expectant mothers were cursed with sudden, intense, often contradictory desires. He had learned that years prior with his mother and Esther, and had witnessed it firsthand with Annabeth and their little Anja.

Annabeth met his eyes, stunning storm clouds ringed with gold. “Certain… carnal needs,” she said, slowly.

Percy… Percy blinked.

“It is quite common,” Annabeth said, her pink cheeks rapidly turning red in a manner quite becoming, “for women who are pregnant to find themselves with increased lust.”

“I… see,” Percy said.

Well, he had certainly not known that when his mother was carrying Esther.

Still, there were much more pressing matters at hand. “How… may I assist you?”

Did she require the room to herself, and need him to protect her privacy? Did she wish him to go and… procure her a tool for aid?

Was that why she had been so fixated on brothels the other day? Was he meant to find her a companion at one? If he did, would it be presumptuous of him to select a woman? He did not like the idea of her laying with another man, but--but she had told him of Katya and Clarice and--

No, he furiously thought, nearly shaking his head. Annabeth did not wish to be the object of his lust, and he would not make her so.

“What may I do to assist you?” he asked her again. As her husband, he would serve his wife and her pregnancy however she required it. The actions he took which led to such a situation had been distasteful to her, and so he must endure some of his own distaste now on her behalf.

She cast her eyes from his once more. “I… cannot reach,” she admitted, her hand flicking below her round belly. “I was wondering if you would be willing to…” her voice faded away, shame and embarrassment plain on her red face.

Percy swallowed. “I… you--you wish me to… touch you?”

She nodded. “I find myself in rather… urgent need of completion, and I should be very grateful for your assistance--if,” she rushed to assure him, “it is not too distasteful for you, of course.”

“No,” Percy said, then, quickly, at her crestfallen expression, “I mean, yes, of course it is not distasteful.” He swallowed again, his mouth watering, but making sure his eyes rested on her face and no lower. “I am happy to assist you however you need.”

A moment passed between them, long and charged. There was a time when he would have been able to divine the whole of her mood and motivations, just from the tilt and shape of her brow. Now, however. He had not been able to read her for quite some time.

Slowly, as though he was approaching a skittish animal, he sat up in bed, peeling the sheets off the both of them. She wore a red kirtle over her chemise this night, her wimple discarded on the floor below, her hair braided down her back. Simple, sturdy traveling fare.

Hushed, he questioned her once more. “May I…?”

Annabeth nodded.

Ever so carefully, Percy pulled her dress up, up over her calves, her thighs. Her stockings were tied above her knees, the garters delicately embroidered with wavy lines of green. Percy had not had the pleasure of undressing many women, and the goddesses of his father’s court did not take to modern fashion. He did not know if such garments were standard, or a mark of the maker. Perhaps Annabeth had made them herself and merely liked the pattern.

“Is there a problem?” Annabeth asked when he waited too long, Percy attempting to keep all his attentions on the cloth and not her pale thigh.

“No, no,” he said, faintly, and then pushed her dress up more. Perhaps sensing his fear and trepidation, she took it from his hands just as it uncovered her center, pulling it the rest of the way so that it lay at her hips just below the swell of her belly.

There, beneath the curve of her stomach, he saw the pink flesh and more of the blonde curls which adorned her head, and his mouth nearly watered. They were a darker gold, here, and easier to see in the afternoon sun than they had been by the glow of the hearth on their wedding night.

Would she allow him the use of his mouth, rather than his hands, he wondered? He was not unskilled with his fingers, but his true abilities were in his tongue. He would prefer it, as well, the flatteries of which his tongue never tired.

With a deep, steadying breath, grounding himself in the sweet, fantastical reality of her laid out before him, open and willing and longing for his touch, he reached out a finger, and traced along the seam of her cunt. Once, twice, three times, until she gave a little gasp, her outer lips parting carefully about the tip of his finger.

So wet already--he tried not to moan himself at the feel of it, at the smell of her as it wafted into the air around him.

Up and down and up and down, he sweetly toyed with her folds, then dipped inside with a finger. At the little whine which escaped her throat, he had to force down his pleased smile.

Cease with your foolish thoughts, he chided himself. This was not about his own pleasure. This was about hers.

Over and over again, then, he went, caressing her cunt as it deserved, as he wished he could do to her every night, trying desperately not to get lost in her sounds of pleasure. This was to ease her suffering, he always had to remember--not for his own benefit.

“Percy,” she gasped his name, and he felt himself twitch in his breeches. “Please!”

Too afraid to ask, too caught on his name on her lips, he did not know for what she begged of him. So he took his other hand, and after briefly caressing her belly, the holy chalice which held their child within it, he brought his thumb down on the place at the top of her cunt, rubbing at it while his other hand teased at the rest of her sensitive pink flesh.

“Yes,” She cried. “Yes, just like that, yes . Percy, yes, please .”

He quickened his pace on her skin, and rather than tease her further, as he so desperately wished to do, instead slid his fingers inside her and out again. As long as he did not say so, as long as he did what she asked, he allowed himself, just for a little while, to pretend it was his cock instead.

Her sweet cries grew hurried, more breathless as Percy moved his hand faster, harder, with greater intent.

“Good girl,” he murmured in a hushed voice, a voice which was not under his control, yet nonetheless taken from the deepest, most desperate places of his desire. “Good girl. Just like that.”

She cried out once more, and he was forced to bite his tongue, lest he declare her beauty to rival that of Aphrodite--or lower it for a taste.

As a flower to the sun, her cheeks bloomed, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips pulled beyond a smile in ecstasy. Letting out one final, piercing cry, Percy felt more wetness gush out of her, straight into his waiting hand.

He was certainly not unschooled in the ways of women, but he had never seen that before. Percy licked his lips, thankful that she could not see him.

Slowing his movements, then, he gently brought her down from her feminine heights, her body twitching with latent pleasure as her climax passed her over. Only when he was certain that she was well and truly sated, that her breathing had returned to normal, that her limbs were loose and lax, that her cunt had ceased to ripple around his fingers, did he finally, torturously remove them, sliding them from her body with a great, private reluctance.

Sleepily, she slid her eyes open once more, catching him with her gaze. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her skin still flushed. “Thank you.”

His heart pounded as though he were the one who had just undergone such a physical act, throbbing in his chest. “It was my pleasure,” he said, his voice sounding at least somewhat more normal--a feat far more heroic than any other he had ever attempted before. “To--to help you however you need,” he stammered, quickly following up.

She nodded, waving a limp hand.

Almost against his will, he glanced once more towards the peak of her thighs, wet and glistening. “Allow me to clean you,” he said, pathetically desperate for just another touch of her.

Slipping off of the bed, he made his way to the water basin. When he turned away from her, it took every ounce of willpower and fortitude he possessed not to lick his fingers clean. Instead, he rinsed them off, and then wet his handkerchief, returning to the bed to gently wipe at her folds. She squirmed, weakly, her brow furrowing in a discomfort of feeling.

When he finished, she tossed down her skirts, and with his help climbed out of bed, undoing the lacing of her dress and shucking off her kirtle, before easing herself back down again. He had seen her like this for months now, Annabeth in her linens, her growing belly pushing against the fabric until she had to purchase more to modify her dresses.

So beautiful, he mused. So perfect. His wife, but not his.

He would do well to remember that fact. Anja Elisabet was wife, his friend, the mother of his child--but not his. This was the deal they had struck.

She looked out the window, her eyes half closed in sleep and Percy stripped off his own outer clothing.

He was careful as he climbed into bed not to show Annabeth how much his assistance had pleased him.

“Thank you, Percy,” she hummed, pleased and pliant, turning onto her side, a hand curled protectively around the swell of their child.

This bed in the inn was far too comfortable, he thought. They had been here for much too long. “Of course,” he said once more.

Of course.

Of course he would serve her, however she needed.

Of course he would feel empty as soon as the deed was done.

***

They had no need to stay in Messalia for three weeks, but stay they did, for his mother’s embraces, his step-father’s smiles, and his sister’s giggles. Were it his decision, he would have put down his roots in the port city, never to be parted again. But Venice was what he had promised his wife, and there was the church built in the image of the St. Sophia, perhaps the new home of their godly family.

So there he left his mortal family behind.

“Here,” he said on the last morning, as their various parcels were loaded onto the boat, and Annabeth was distracted by Esther’s hugs. He handed his mother another velvet purse, stuffed with more money taken from his little allowance.

“Percy,” his mother said, breathless at the flash of gold. “This must be at least a year’s wages.”

He nodded, a bit uncomfortable. “I thought it might do you some good.”

“Oh, my darling son.” She placed her slander hand on cheek, her calloused skin rough against his, and his willpower nearly dissolved. “You do not have to do this.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You took care of me for so many years, and now that I am able, I shall take care of you in return.”

He paused, then, as he considered his next statement. He did not wish for it to be misconstrued, as he held no ill will towards her husband, but… it needed to be said.

“I am giving this to you,” he spoke, catching her eye so that she could divine his full meaning. “Not to Paul.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He took her hands in his. “I have left Paul our cart and our horse. I know that you told him of the money I gave you weeks ago, but please, do not feel as though you need to share this with him as well.”

“Percy,” she chided, “Paul would never--” “I know that, mater ,” he said, for if there ever was doubt to his character, he might have dispatched the man himself long ago. “Still, I think it is fair for you to keep something for yourself, for any trouble which might arise.”

With those keen, piercing eyes which saw so much, they looked on him with so much affection, he felt his own eyes grow wet. “My son,” she said, so full of tenderness, “I can see that you are a good husband, and will be an even better father to your little girl.”

He smiled at her words, a tear falling down his cheek. Her excitement over her granddaughter was palpable.

Percy would see them all again, he swore, and one day, his mother would meet his little Anja, and she and her family would come to call Venice home.

They all embraced. Esther sobbed, and Paul and his mother were not without tears. Nor was Percy, though he was only in real danger of unbecoming emotion when he heard Annabeth whisper to Esther about what a good aunt she would be to the baby.

And then, once more did they board a ship, sailing towards a place unknown.

The first few days, he had worried that perhaps sea sickness would strike his wife again, but, to his pleasant discovery, she was as hale as could be expected, waddling about the ship, hand around her middle as she took in the fresh, salty air. Percy thought fleetingly of the Madonna he had seen in the church Athens, then put her from his mind entirely, for this was surely a more divine and holy mother, this Anja Elisabet, draped in robes of blue and white, belly full of his daughter, standing proudly aboard a ship.

What goddess, either that of the Christians or the Hellenes or the Norsemen, could ever hope to compare? Perhaps this was the source of Hera’s animosity and ire, all those years ago, the knowledge that one day Annabeth would surpass her in her own domains of marriage and motherhood.

“You are in a very good humor,” Annabeth said, five days into their journey. “I would have expected leaving your family to put you in a foul mood.”

She was in something of a foul mood herself today, languishing in their little cabin, unwilling to tread outside. In hopes of lifting her spirits a little, he was rubbing the tightness from her feet, digging his fingers into her muscles. At one particularly strong motion, she moaned, low in her throat, in a manner not dissimilar to when she came, shaking on his fingers.

“I am very sad to leave them,” he admitted, hoping to keep his mind off of… other things. “But we are our own family now, are we not?”

Her face still slack from the relaxing massage, she frowned, her brows drawing together the way they did whenever she was faced with a particularly thorny Gordian knot of a problem. Percy could not, strictly speaking, discern whether or she derived any joy from such a statement.

He spared a moment to wonder if he had said too much, or if he had made her uncomfortable. But she just nodded. “Yes, of course. We are a family, as well.” She shifted, trying once more to situate herself in the position which would cause the least amount of physical discomfort from her stomach.

Though she were still, at times, entirely unreadable, Percy knew when something weighed heavily on her. “What is it?” he asked, his hands stilling on her foot.

Pausing, she looked away, no doubt weighing the merits of keeping whatever it was to herself. “It is nothing,” she said, after a moment. “I was reminded, for a moment, of Lukas, and of Thalia.”

“Oh.” Percy pressed his thumb into the ball of her foot, easing the tense muscle there, grounding himself in the feel of the delicate bones of her ankle beneath his fingers.

The last Olympian had granted him a vision, once upon a time, of Annabeth as a very, very young girl, lost in what he now knew to be far northern wildernesses, having been rescued by the two older children. Lukas had pledged to her, then, to be her new family, to replace the one which had so cruelly cast her aside--only to cast her aside himself, five years later. Undoubtedly, the concept of a family which would not abandon her was not a concept with which she was overly familiar.

Well, Percy would certainly do his best to familiarize her with it.

Shifting again, she shooed away his concern, bidding him to keep up his work on her aching feet. She seemed to prefer that to even his work on her cunt, which he still provided nearly every day.

“You never told me,” she inserted into the silence, tight and restrained. “When did you sell the cart and horse?”

He froze, his knuckles pressed against the sweeping arch of her feet, a wave of guilt crashing over him, as the shore in a morning storm.

Oh, dear.

Percy swallowed. “I… that is to say…”

In truth, he had hoped she would not ask. She seemed accustomed to a certain standard of living, and now, burdened with her share of her inheritance, he had thought that she may not notice some of the finer details. But of course, she would, being the cleverest, wisest woman in the world. How, then, did he apologize for such a gross misuse of funds? Of her trust? “I must confess something.”

With some difficulty, she adjusted her seat, so she could look on him more fully. “What is it?” she asked, her tone short.

She had been so forthright with him, it was only fair that he did the same. “I did not sell the cart and horse,” said Percy, meeting her gaze. “I gave them to Paul.”

She tilted her head, appraising. “I did not know he was in need of either of those things.”

“I gifted them so he could sell them,” said Percy, “so they could make use of the money.”

“Of course,” she said, nodding her head. “That is good compensation for their hospitality, among many other things.”

“There is more,” he said, nerves rising. “I also… gave my mother some money. Well, quite a sum of money.” A year’s wages, she had said, but between both purses he’d handed over, it had really been much closer to two. “A… rather large sum of money.”

She frowned, and he felt the guilt sinking lower in his stomach. “How large a sum?”

“Probably… a hundred or so ducats.”

“Oh,” she said, her face falling from a frown into a sort of bemused smile. “I understand why your mother would think that was so much money but--”

“I wish to assure you,” he chimed in, quickly, desperate to explain himself, “that I will work tirelessly to recoup it when we make land.”

“Recoup what?”

“The money which I took from you.”

“Percy,” she said, in a tone he knew from their youth, the one she assumed whenever she tried to patiently explain something to him, rather than simply calling him the fool she considered him to be. “The money is in your name. You know that, yes?”

“I do,” he agreed, “but that does not make it mine.”

“Any law would say otherwise.”

“The law does not always speak truly,” Percy said, “The money is yours, by right and by blood. I apologize for taking so much of it without your express permission, but please know that I do intend to pay you back in full.” Such a task would take a long while. Two years at least, for the money he gave to his mother, and quite a bit more for the horse and cart, then he could begin working to save to send for his mother and her family. Hopefully, Annabeth would be willing to pay for their room and board when they arrived. “I suspect there is work to be had on many a ship in Venice. I know a good many merchants make their homes there. If not, perhaps I can find employment in a shipyard. I cannot be a shipwright, of course, as I would not be able to afford the apprenticeship, and I am too old besides, but there is always work to be found, if not on the sea, then in the city.” It would be torture to live so close to the sea and yet work with the soil, but he would find a way to persevere. “I will find something, I promise you.”

Annabeth stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “I do not understand.”

Percy knew very well how the children of Athena hated problems they could not quickly understand. “I want to assure you,” he tried again, “that I will pay you back all that I owe. Unfortunately, it shall not be quick. Nevertheless, I shall toil until you are compensated in full. I fear, though, that without any previous social standing, such an undertaking may encompass several years. I am sorry for the delay, but I will fulfil my debt to you, one day’s wage at a time.”

This had been the issue, oh so many years ago. It had been an issue in Constantinople, when it was all he could do to feed himself during the siege, and it had been an issue at the tender age of sixteen, when he could never have supported a family. Now, thankfully, his wife had a deep cushion upon which she and their child could fall, which took a tremendous weight off of his shoulders.

“One day’s wage…” she repeated, softly, unbelievingly, then with a force and speed which surprised him, Annabeth yanked her foot back from his hands. “You mean to tell me,” she said, steel-voiced and spitting fire, “that you plan to become a common laborer?”

“Unless by some measure of luck a man of distinction from Constantinople with whom I served now resides in Venice, I have nothing in the way of connections.” The odds of that, he felt, were startlingly slim, however. He could, perhaps, send a message to Aachen, as they had their own web of social ties running up and down Italy, but he thought Annabeth might dislike money made from a Latin connection even more than the slow amounts he could provide with work by his own hands. Iason would be eager to help him, but Annabeth would likely not be eager to take it, and so he would not mention it.

Annabeth still stared at him, befuddled, angry. “But--I--You--”

She stood up off the bed with easy grace, long practiced even despite her belly, but as she began to pace in their very small cabin, she did waddle around a bit, distracting Percy with the beauty of the image. This was an important conversation, he told himself, shaking his head. “What can I do to--”

Then, with a frustrated cry, she whirled on him. “You truly would disrespect me so much?” she demanded, her face red.

The force of her words was so strong he had to lean back a little. “I--” he stammered, uncomprehending, “I only wish to do right by you.”

“Do right by me?” she sneered. “How? By disrespecting our marriage so entirely that you will not claim what is legally yours? By reducing me to a laborer's wife in a city of strangers? Me!” she scoffed, her voice rising higher and higher in pitch and volume. “A daughter of Athena. A warrior of Rome. A legacy of Frey and a lady of house Förfölja!”

“You can be whatever you wish,” he offered, and although it was true, it sounded small to his own ears. Her father had wished for her to play politics among the noble houses of Svealand--if she wished to do so in Venice instead, he would not stop her.

“Oh yes,” she said, venom in her voice. “I can certainly go and meet with the Doge and his retinue. I shall dress up in my silks and my aunt’s jewels, and when they say, ‘Oh, Signora Thalassinos, who is your husband?’ I will have to reply, ‘Oh, he mucks the stables near the shipyards!’”

Overwhelmed by her fire, her intensity, he blinked at her, speechless.

“You would have me introduce our son,” she went on, incensed, “not as the legacy of great gods and greater heroes, but as the son of a man who refuses to honor his marriage, and would rather toil away on the docks!”

His hands raised before him, he beseeched his goddess, demurely, placatingly. “What would you have my do, my lady?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed, and he was reminded of her mother, of so many years of disapproval. Lady Athena had wanted him to stay away from her daughter, and for several years, he had thought she had gotten her way. “Take what has been freely given,” Annabeth demanded. “If you wish to return to the sea, well, buy a ship. Buy a dozen! Surely you would have better luck carrying goods across the Mare Nostrum than any other man, with your father’s blessings. But if you insist on ignoring the money that is by law, custom, and my own wish yours , then you shall earn it back in a manner which will not shame me or my child.”

Stunned, he said in a quiet voice, “I do not wish to take advantage--”

“Oh, I know,” she nearly snarled. “You will take no advantage, nothing of me--only my hand and my maidenhead.”

He flinched, as though he had been struck.

“And what do you give me in return? Your distance and your disrespect.” Her breathing was hard, labored, as though she had just gone several rounds in the arena. His own heart beat so rapidly in his chest it felt like the sparring match was against him. Perhaps it was. “I took you as my husband, son of Poseidon. I expect you to act like it.”

She made to leave their cabin, to make a grand exit worthy of the Empress she should have been, had she chosen a better husband. Then, as she reached the door of their cabin, her shoulders tensed, and she curled in on herself, letting out a cry of pain.

Percy was by her side in a moment. Wrapping his arms around her, her hands clutched at her stomach. “No,” he breathed, all anger and fear forgotten, “not now.”

“No,” she agreed, “no, I think not.” She straightened up a little, but left most of her weight on him, “Your mother told me this could happen. False pains, she called it. It is not yet time.” But she did not seem so confident.

“Come,” he said. “Sit.”

She ended up laying down on their little cabin bed, huddled on her side, her face drawn in pain and worry, but after ten long, excruciating minutes, no other pains came, and her breathing returned to normal.

“Do you need anything?” Percy asked her, gently. “Some water? Some wine?”

She nodded weakly, but did not specify which.

After a few minutes, making certain she was no longer in any serious pain, he then went in search of one or the other, and possibly even a little bit of food.

The sailors greeted him as he emerged onto the deck. He was quite friendly with the seamen. Annabeth had paid good money for their services, yes, but also, he sensed that they could feel a kindred spirit among them.

He found the quartermaster, a kind man with five children of his own and the air of a legacy of Neptune, with very little trouble. The man was always eager to assist this young charge and his wife, and gladly procured Percy wine and hard bread.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Percy considered, as a thought occurred to him. “You do not happen to be in possession of any olives, do you?”

He gave Percy a sort of sideways look, and then, to Percy’s amazement, nodded, producing a small jar of the stuff.

Percy could have kissed the man. His thanks would have lasted all night, had he not been shooed away, back to his wife.

She had maneuvered herself to a sitting position once more when he returned. Freya the cat had made herself quite at home against the line of her thigh, purring contentedly as Annabeth rubbed at her belly, speaking words he did not understand, but recognized as her father’s tongue, so musical and lilting that it could have been a lullaby.

“I have returned,” he said softly, almost unwilling to interrupt the moment. “With--"

At his voice, she raised her head, her eyes a little red and puffy from tears, but the smile she directed towards him was soft and pleased. “Oh, thank you, Percy. Here, come sit by me.”

Settling in on her other side, ever mindful of both her stomach and her furry companion, he handed her the wine, resisting the urge to brush her hair which had fallen into her face.

“I do apologize,” she said, after she had taken a drink. “I did not mean for my words to be so harsh.”

“It is alright,” he replied. “I did not realize the enormity of your feelings.”

Nibbling on a piece of bread, she swallowed, chasing the morsel with a little more wine, before pinning him with an odd sort of stare. “You must remember, Percy, that your choices no longer solely affect you. You are a husband, and a father. There are certain things which you are now obligated to provide.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he said, throat thick. Money and order and prestige, none of which he possessed. “All I meant for was to reassure you that I would not trap you in a situation from which you could not free yourself, should you ever need to.”

More than she knew, the shadow of his mother’s first husband hung over him still. He would rather die than submit Annabeth to even an echo of the same treatment.

“I am not trapped,” she said. “I extended the proposition of marriage to you, and you agreed--quite the opposite of the way things are usually done, might I add.”

He chuckled. That did seem to be a common thread between them.

“But,” she went on, “I am your wife. You must remember that. There are things for which I will not stand, and unlike some women, I have a noted history of running off when I do not like my treatment. When I married you, I knew, however, that you would never do those things.” She paused, considering him, holding his gaze. “I am a reflection of you, as a wife always is. I chose a brave, handsome, powerful, intelligent husband, and I am happy to be with him--but it will do me no good if he hides away and refuses to use his gifts, or disrespects our union by not valuing property that is rightfully his. If you act as though our union is not one of partnership, but one of a great burden, then, whatever your intentions, that will harm me.”

There were a million things he wished he could tell her, in this moment, promises of autonomy, declarations of love, but he knew she would not want to hear either. “That is not fair to you,” was all he ended up saying.

“I never said it was fair,” she agreed, a sympathetic twist to her mouth. “However, this is the way it is. I am not so displeased with my choices, not yet, but please, for my pride, if nothing else, do not prove me wrong.”

“Well,” Percy offered, falling into old step, “pride is your fatal flaw, skjaldmær . I suppose I must take particular care with it.”

She smiled at him, real, true, beautiful. “That is what I ask.”

“Is that all?”

“Well,” she grinned, a little of her humor shining through, “I daresay I shall ask for much much more--for what, however, at this time I cannot say.”

Percy wished he could, were she so inclined, offer her the world, his devotion, his love, all that he had and more. He settled instead for reaching beneath his cloak and pulling out his gift from the quartermaster. “I know you said that your cravings had--”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Annabeth had yanked it from his hand.

“Olives!” she cried in a tone not dissimilar to that of her lusts. “Oh Percy, you found them! You found me olives at sea!”

In very quick succession, she kissed him, and then she had the jar open and began shoving olives into her mouth.

***

In Neapolis , as he was disembarked, he made certain to purchase more olives for her. He did not do so because he wished to put some space between himself and his wife, but rather because she loved them, and at this stage in her pregnancy, she was finding herself uncomfortable all the time. The movement of the boat was not the cause of her nausea, but the cramped quarters and lack of comforts were wearing on her.

So, he set out to find her olives. The fact that he felt his own failure as a husband keenly, but he still did not know how to rectify it, was merely an additional consideration. Thus, he would provide her with food, because it appeared he was unable to provide her with anything more effective.

He managed to procure a few figs as well, juicy and sweet. And some salted nuts he thought might please her. And many many olives. He spent a good deal of money on the volume, hoping that they would last them to Venice, or at the very least to their next stop.

Spending money on his wife was no hardship. On himself, however? It took him several minutes to convince himself into purchasing a new hat, as his had accumulated a rather disgusting layer of road dirt.

She would like this one, he hoped. It was black, but with a blue and gold trim around the brim. She seemed to enjoy that particular color scheme.

He came back to the ship to some commotion, though he only half listened to the first mate’s words as two trunks were loaded aboard. He was nervous around his wife, still, her condition always lighting fearful fires within him, but he found he could never be too far away. Percy felt as though he were a young boy of fifteen all over again, just returning from their terrible, terrible trip beneath the earth, only now coming to terms with the breadth of his feelings for her.

“There's been some commotion on the ship while you were gone,” said Annabeth as he entered their cabin, once more laid out on their bed. Freya the cat did not crowd her this afternoon, but slept peacefully on Percy’s discarded winter cloak.

“Yes,” Percy agreed, handing her the olives and figs, watching with detached horror as she stuffed them both simultaneously into her mouth. Would it be husbandly to mock her choice? Had they both still been youths, he would not have hesitated to do so, and that good natured mocking had come so easy to him still, even with his devotion, but everything now felt so unbalanced. Marriages did contain humor and good-natured ribbing, but were they acceptable enough substitutes for love and affection? Too fearful to try, he instead answered her question. “We have taken on a new passenger, it seems.”

“Anyone interesting?”

“A count, returning to his home in Venice,” he said. “The first mate did not volunteer many more details.”

“Perhaps you should introduce yourself,” she suggested. “As you said, we have no connections in the city. A count on friendly terms could potentially be a great boon.”

A part of him hated how she had listened to his every word, as she should not have to manage his life so fully, but, well, it was a very good idea.

“I will do so when you are feeling a little better,” he promised.

“See to it that you do.”

She winced, then, moving about to readjust herself on the bed. “I apologize,” said Percy, for what must have been the thousandth time. He never wished to cause her such discomfort, even if the reason was a happy one.

“I have asked you repeatedly to stop apologizing,” she said, relaxing into the bed. “You know it is no trouble. I have traveled to the ends of the world with you twice now, both ways. I think it is in fact easier to do while with child, mostly. Next time,” she continued, quickly, refusing him ample time to dwell on her strange words, “perhaps we shall arrive before the later days.”

Such words belonged to the realm of dreams; “next time.” In truth, they would not have another opportunity such as this. This would be their only child. He tried to comfort himself with the fact that it was better for her, as many a tragedy befell women in the birthing bed.

His own fears about what might await his wife were quiet, but as the date came nearer, it had been harder and harder to quell them. She was hearty and hale, but normally she would have been confined to comfortable rooms. Even traveling up and down the continent, the meanest inn made a far better place to lay than the softest beds upon the undulating ocean.

They had no nectar or ambrosia here, no healer of Apollo or midwife of Artemis on hand. Annabeth only had Percy, and he was sorely terrified he would find himself lacking in the crucial moment.

Ashore, in Neapolis, he had burned a sacrifice in preparation, to Artemis, Eileithyia, and Hera, and any deity who had even the remotest connection with childbirth. He had strongly considered using one of their precious few drachmae to attempt to contact the agoge , or perhaps Thalia and her maiden hunters. They had, like their lady, brought babies into the world on occasion.

Without a guarantee of success, however, he found himself loath to waste such time and resources. But it mattered not--they would be in Venice in a few days, he would find her the most comfortable of rooms, the most talented of midwives, and the most celebrated of doctors, and there they would await the birth of their daughter.

Afterwards, what he was supposed to do still remained a mystery. Not be a laborer, not find work on a ship, he was too afraid to ask what she wanted him to do. Too afraid to once again ignite her ire. Too afraid that he could not give it to her.

In some ways, her growing discomfort was a blessing. It distracted them both from having to figure out what he was to do to make her truly happy.

They set sail again, and Percy sunk into the feeling of the sea all around him, a brief escape from his wife’s, his dearest friend’s discomfort. They were very close to their destination, less than a fortnight at a normal speed, and with Percy’s help, well, they could be much, much faster.

As Annabeth winced and groaned, her momentary peace fleeing her with the rocking of the ship, he decided that they would make it to Venice in ten days’ time. Most likely, he could manage an even quicker pace, but he did not wish to scare the sailors so badly that they might stop all together.

Perhaps they should not have dallied in Messalia. Or perhaps they should have remained longer, long enough for her to give birth.

He should have done a great many things differently, it seemed.

At her request on the second day, he took her out of their cabin, supporting her as they slowly walked about the deck. All night, he had heard her toss and turn in their shared bed, groaning in pain. She seemed a little better this morning, but hopefully the sea air would do her a bit more good.

“And if not me,” she said, her jest squeezed through gritted teeth, “then perhaps your sea spawn.” Her laughter was cut off by her gasp of pain, digging her nails into the skin of his arm.

By his count, she had done that at least every five minutes for at least several hours. The time between the pain might have even been getting shorter.

“Are you certain you are alright? There are plenty of places to make port between here and Venice.”

She waved him off. “I am fine, I just… ooh , it feels as though your child is nearly as excited by the sea as you are.”

Usually, Percy would have been mollified by such a statement, and he would have gone about his business as usual--but not today. “I think we should return to our cabin, and get you back in b--”

All at once, she crushed his hand, nearly falling into him as she let out a terrible, heart-wrenching cry.

“Annabeth!” He braced her against his body, a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “What is it?”

“ Ma ton Dia ,” she gasped, “I… oh, no! Oh, stupid, stupid, I am such a fool!”

“What?” he pleaded. “What?”

Her eyes were wild, shiny and tinged with pain. “The baby,” she groaned, “Percy--your mother told me I would--” Then she cried again, even more anguished than before.

“Anja!” He nearly buckled beneath her weight.

“It’s coming,” she grunted, struggling to remain upright as the ship roiled beneath them. “The baby--it’s here!”

Oh, no. Ohhh, no no no. “What? Now?”

“Yes, now!”

“I--”

“Perc--” she wailed again, too much in pain to speak.

A large wave crashed on the side of their ship, sailors shouting orders to one another.

Paralyzed with fear, all Percy could do was clutch her closer. Now? Now, of all times?

One of the men stepped up to them, beginning to herd them towards below decks. “Signore Thalassinos,” he said, gruff but commanding, “there seems to be a storm rising, we ask that you return to your cabin until it has passed--”

“My wife is having her baby,” he blurted to the man.

His fear and terror must have been plainly evident, for the man paled in response. “Now, sir?” he squeaked.

“Yes, now!” Percy said. “Come, we require your assistance.”

When he made to shift her so that he could carry her, she cried out even more, releasing her grip on Percy so as to clutch at her stomach. Together, they braced her between the two of them, but rather than return them to their cabin, he led them to the captain’s suite. “The captain has a much larger bed,” he said, easing the door open with his shoulder. “Your wife shall be more comfortable here.”

Percy did not even have the wits to protest, or thank the man.

She shrieked as they laid her down, her hands clawing at the fine sheets. “Shh, shh, Anja,” he gentled, lacing her fingers with his. “I am here, I am here.”

“Signore…”

The crewman was looking down at his feet, gesturing to a spot on the captain’s rug. It took him far, far longer than it should have for Percy to realize that it was blood. A trail of it led beyond the door, onto the deck of the ship. Squeezing her arm in a silent apology, he positioned himself in front of the other man so he would not be able to see, then lifted up just a corner of her dress.

Her chemise had been white when she had put it on this morning. Now it was all stained and colored, a deep, dark, red.

Hastily, he laid the fabric back down, his hands shaking.

“Annabeth, darling,” he said, one hand coming up to push the hair which had fallen from her wimple out of her eyes, “you are bleeding. What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her face red, tears leaking from her eyes. “I--I have never done this before. I do not know.”

“Is there supposed to be so much blood?” Percy knew little of childbirth, but quite a bit about injuries. Had this been an arm or a leg, he would have been very concerned. Being a woman was bloody business, he knew, but was this how they were supposed to go?

“I do not--I do not think so…” she whimpered.

The helpful sailor still stood there, at a loss of what to do with himself. From beyond the cabin, he could hear the pelting of rain as it smashed into the ship.

“Percy, I think something is wrong,” she said.

Something was wrong.

“It hurts,” she cried, “differently, differently than it had before. I can’t--” Then she let out a great wail.

No. No. No.

The boat beneath them rocked, violently. Percy was able to keep himself and Annabeth stable, but the crewman was not so lucky.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, “it's alright.”

Again the ship lurched beneath them, sailors shouting in fear and terror. He paid it no mind.

Annabeth screamed, her whole body contorted in pain.

“Something is wrong,” she said once more. “Something is wrong .”

No. No. He felt like the sea outside--angry, rolling, ready to burst.

The ship swayed again.

“Percy!”

"Signore, what is it?” asked the crewman, having finally, fully righted himself.

Had he been of a clearer head, he would have recognized that the man could not understand Annabeth, as she had been screaming in Greek. At the moment, however, he was too full of fear to be kind. “Don’t just stand there,” he snapped. “Go and get the doctor!”

A midwife would be far, far better, but they would have to settle for the ship’s doctor. Between his experience and Percy’s battlefield expertise, hopefully they would be able to come up with something between the two of them.

“Yes,” said the man, “the count’s friend, he is a doctor, he said. He is a doctor.”

“A doctor,” Percy repeated. “There is a real doctor aboard?”

“ Si, Signore, yes. He is not Italian, but the count says he is a doctor.”

“Fetch him for me,” Percy pleaded, “please, fetch him, tell him something is wrong, and I will pay him whatever he wishes.”

The sailor departed, nearly tripping on himself to get out of the cabin. “What is happening, Percy?” Annabeth asked, frantic. “What did you say, where is he going?”

“He said there is a doctor aboard,” Percy said, turning his attention back to his wife, “he is going to get him.”

“The ship’s doctor?”

“No, the count’s doctor is aboard--I sent him to fetch the man.”

Weakly, she reached for him, her fingers clumsily hitting his arm. “It will be alright, won’t it Percy?” she asked. He had never seen her so afraid before. “Percy, promise me it is going to be alright.”

“It will be alright, I swear it.” Hands working quickly, he undid her wimple, as he knew she disliked the garment, and he did not want her to grow even more feverish.

Under it she looked pale and almost clammy. Still she bled.

The seas outside turned even choppier as Percy waited for this mysterious doctor to come and save his wife.

He did not want to disturb his wife with any more loud noises. The last thing she needed right now was to see him in all his fear and terror. Within the depths of his mind, he cursed himself for being a fool. If only he had not been so selfish, staying in Messalia for so long! If only he had not given into the sweetest of all possible temptations!

But now was not the time for self-flagellation. Now was not even the time for prayer, though pray he did, begging all the gods who had ever thrown a scrap of goodwill their way to save her, Eileithyia for a safe delivery, Apollo for a safe recovery, even the queen of the heavens, who had no lost love for either of them, but whose protection extended towards families. He prayed to them all for the gift of Annabeth’s life, and that of their child, promising anything, everything. There was not much he would not do, should they call upon him to pay his debt, as long as she would survive this.

“You’ll be alright,” Percy said, pressing a kiss to the curls plastered on her forehead. “You’ll be alright.”

“And our son,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “He’ll be alright too, won’t he, Percy?”

“Of course.” He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Everyone shall be healthy, hale, and whole--you shall see.”

It seemed to work, somewhat, Annabeth relaxing into the pillows, giving him a shaky smile in return.

Kronos’ curse upon them, perhaps, it was likely mere minutes, but felt like another age had passed before the cabin door once again swung open. “Here, Dottore , here she is.” said the crewman, ushering in another man. “Signore, I have brought you the count’s doctor. As I said, I apologize for the interruption--”

“It is no trouble,” said the other man, his voice lightly accented. “I am happy to help. Hello Signora Thalassinos, I am… Ana Zabeta ?”

Percy looked up sharply. That voice, that--

“Guillaume?” Annabeth whispered, raising her head.

“ Guillaume ,” Percy repeated, “Will.”

It was him. Will, son of Apollo, the greatest healer of heroes, the most skilled doctor that the agoge had ever produced.

“Percy?”

“Oh, thank all the gods,” Percy cried, dropping his Italian completely. “Oh, thank you, Boedromios , thank you, father! Will, something is wrong.”

Sparing him a quick glance, he stripped off his own outer layer, discarding it on the floor of the cabin, and rushed over to Annabeth. “Help me get her gown off,” he told Percy, before waving at the crewman. “You, stay--I may have need of you yet.”

“Can you help her?” he asked.

“Childbirth is generally the purview of women,” Will said. “I have only assisted my aunt in a few before--but I am confident in our process.”

That was enough reassurance for him.

He and Percy got her kirtle out, so she was only in her chemise, the linen sticking to her skin as Will peeled it away to examine her. A consummate professional, his face remained calm even as the boat ferociously lurched to one side, then the other.

“Percy,” WIll said, firmly, “please stop raising a storm outside.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Please try, for Annabeth.” Touching at her belly and between her legs, he frowned as he looked at the blood. Even in pain, nothing escaped Annabeth’s notice.

“What is wrong?” she asked, weak and withdrawn. “Will, Will, is my baby--”

“Sailor,” Will called in Italian, turning back to the man to look at him, “please go and tell the count to bring me my specialty bag. He’ll know what it means.”

“I can go fetch it for you, sir. I will not bother the count.”

“No,” Will said, firmly, years of wrangling unhelpful demigods in the infirmary lending him strength. “Tell the count to bring my bag, and some linens if he has some on hand, which he should. If he questions you, tell him I demanded it.”

“Will,” Percy said, “let me go go and--”

But he shook his head, reaching into his bag and removing some cloth. “Stay. I shall need your assistance for this next portion.” He handed Percy a wooden rod and a cloth, then leaned over Annabeth, the picture of peace and serenity, even in such a stressful time. “Annabeth,” he said slowly, “I sense there is some tearing, and you are bleeding far too much. However, I promise I can take care of that. Unfortunately, there is another problem: the baby is in the wrong position.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, wincing as another wave of pain crashed over her.

“I can feel the baby’s feet,” Will said, “when I should feel the head. I will try to turn it, but I may need to try a few other things beforehand.”

Eyes glassy, she begged of Will, “You will save my baby, Will, yes? Please… Percy…” She grasped at his hand, mumbling words he did not understand.

“Percy,” murmured the good doctor, “this will be painful. I will do what I can, but I wish to keep her as comfortable as possible. I’ll need you to make sure she can bite down on the wood, and wipe her face and her chest as well. Can you do that?”

For her? Anything. “Yes,” he said, “yes.”

“Very good. Can you calm the sea?”

“I--”

There was a knock on the door to the cabin again. “Will?” came a deeper voice, speaking Greek. “What is going on? There is a vicious storm brewing, and I found this cat who seems to be in serious distress."

“Quickly, quickly.” Will called back, not looking away from Annabeth. “Come in.”

Too exhausted, too worried, too scared, Percy could not properly comprehend precisely what he was seeing when Nico Di Angelo walked into his cabin, carrying a leather bag that seemed to glow even in the dark room in one arm, and Freya the cat in another.

Nico, however, did not have that problem. He nearly dropped both of his parcels at the sight of them. “Percy?” Eyes wide, mouth open, he then took in the whole strange, frightening scene. “Annabeth? What--what is the matter?”

“Several things,” said Will, “and we shall have our joyous reunion once they are resolved.” He wiped his bloodied hand on a cloth, and then opened the bag which Nico had placed beside him, taking out several little clay jars and water skins. Smearing a substance on his finger from one of the jars, with his other hand, he gently tapped Annabeth’s cheek, pulling her attention, her eyes fluttering open. “I need to attend to some of the bleeding,” he said, serious and stern. “I apologize in advance, but this will feel very strange.” His countenance never wavered, even as he lowered his hand and slipped his fingers inside of her. Then he nodded at one of the water skins. “Percy is going to help you drink some, yes? Just a few sips.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

Percy reached for the skin, recognizing it as nectar from the smell as he dribbled a bit into Annabeth’s mouth. For him, it smelled of his mother’s kitchen in the evening, cinnamon and honey and nuts. “Here Anja,” he said, hoping it would remind her of home, “drink up.”

“No,” said Will, “only a little! The other is unicorn draught. She can drink all of it, if she wishes, as long as it is done slowly.”

He brought the other skin to her lips. “Careful,” he said, as some of it leaked out of the side of her mouth. Unicorn draught was potent, powerful--he himself had had much of the stuff during his stay with the Legion, and he knew firsthand just how effective it could be. “There we are, there we are, love.”

Nestled in Nico’s arms, their poor cat wailed, upset at her mistress’ distress.

“Nico,” Will ordered, “please pet that cat before she wakes every sea monster that Percy has not already raised with his storm.” Then he took a deep breath. “Annabeth, I am going to reach inside and try to reposition the baby. You can bite down on the stick. It will all be over soon.”

“Can you bite down for me, Anja,” Percy asked, putting the water skin aside and raising the stick to her mouth.

Eyes shining, she pulled together a smile, soft and full of pain. “ Jag skulle göra vad som helst för dig .” she whispered. Then she bit down.

He could still hear her scream around it. Several tears ran down her cheeks, and he wiped them away

After a few moments, Percy looked towards Will, who was now smiling.

“Good, Annabeth, very good,” said Will. “You're ready, you can start pushing now.”

“ Malaka ,” swore Nico, looking rather green. Dressed in a black doublet, surcoat, and breeches over black hose, in his arms resting their little white kitten, he made for a startlingly amusing picture, entirely out of place for such a fraught moment.

“It is alright, Anja,” Percy said. “It is nearly done.”

Weeping, red-faced, exhausted, she nodded, and began her most harrowing trial.

There was not much more he could do to ease her suffering at this point, but he supported her as best he could without a birthing chair, allowing her to brace herself against him as she cried out and made aborted movements. Then Will was announcing things: a head, shoulders, arms.

And then a cry pierced the room, cutting through Annabeth’s moans and the roar of the sea in Percy’s ear. Annabeth fell back against him, loose like a bow released from its string.

“Annabeth,” Will said breathlessly, a bright, broad smile on his face. He stood, holding something in his arms, and presented it to them. “You have a son!”

A son.

Percy had a son.

He took a closer look.

It-- he --was small, and round, blotchy white and purple and brown. Wrinkled and wet. Ugly.

He looked, all things considered, like a turnip pulled from the ground.

Reverently, Will placed him into Annabeth’s outstretched arms.

“Oh,” she cooed, breathless, “look at you.”

A son. He had not wanted a son. He had hoped, so hoped, for a daughter, a little Anja to be a reflection of her mother in all things.

The boy resting in Annabeth’s arms already had dark hair, and a mighty cry, calming when he came to rest on his mother’s chest. Then, for the first time ever, he opened his eyes.

His face was still purple and white and splotchy, yet when he looked up at Percy, his eyes were the color of the Bosphorus on a sunny day. Those were Percy’s eyes. That was Percy’s dark hair coating his small head, Percy’s nose reflected in miniature.

Yet there was something in his expression, mere moments old, passing judgement on his father. You wanted a daughter , it seemed to say, but I knew better .

Annabeth always knew better than him, and so, it seemed, did her son. Her beautiful perfect son.

His son.

He fell in love at that moment, meeting his son’s eyes, sea green to sea green. “Welcome,” he said, reaching out to run a finger along a round, splotchy cheek. “May all the gods' blessings be upon you.”

When he pulled back, Annabeth was watching him. “Are you alright?” she asked, hushed.

“I have never been better,” he promised, his voice thick with unshed emotion. “And you?”

“I…” She did not answer, her brow furrowed. Swallowing, she turned back to the baby in her arms.

“Here,” said Will, holding out a square of ambrosia, “take this, if you please.”

Nico hummed, looking out of the cabin door. “It appears as if the storm has broken.”

While Will did his best to make Annabeth comfortable as she took the baby to her breast, Percy cleaned up what mess he could, gathering the dirtied linens together. He would have to apologize to the captain for commandeering use of his quarters, and pay him back for the use of his bed.

“Do not fret over the captain’s things,” said Nico, somehow divining his thoughts, as he usually did. His black clothing was now covered in white fur, as Freya had made herself quite at home in his embrace, all distress forgotten, sleeping peacefully in the crook of his arms. “He is a good friend--I can certainly compensate him for a new set of linens.”

Percy shook his head. “That is very kind of you, but I can afford it.” If he were to have some control over their shared finances, then he would not begin by placing themselves in debt.

“I apologize for the interruption,” said Will, “but I need to give Annabeth another exam. Percy,” he grinned, and it was then he noticed that Will was holding the baby in his arms. “Would you like to hold your son?”

“Yes,” came tumbling out of his mouth. “Yes, I do.”

“So he is your son, then?” Nico asked. At least he had the decency to look bashful at the look Will shot him.

The good doctor placed the baby into his waiting hands.

He was so small.

He did not cry, being removed from his mother, but blinked up at him, sleepily, uncomprehendingly. Percy began noting so many little details--the thin, patchy eyebrows which would no doubt grow in with time, his pudgy fingers, curled into a little fist, his ears, an exact replica of his mother’s, the ones for which Percy had once considered composing sonnets. This was his son , made in their image, but also a little person in his own right.

Was this how his own father had felt, all those years ago, holding Percy in his arms?

“I think you will be just fine,” Will proclaimed, rising from Annabeth’s side. “I will go get you some food, but in the meantime, please, drink the rest of the unicorn draught. I shall return shortly. If there is any issue, do not hesitate to send for me at once.”

“But--”

“We can ask for their adventures later, Nico,” Will said, tossing his golden bag at the son of Hades. “Come, let us give them some privacy.”

Though, as they made to leave, Freya the cat extricated herself from his one-armed embrace, landing on the floor without a quiet thump , before leaping up on the captain’s desk, observing the whole scene from her perch.

Nico and Will shut the door quietly behind them, leaving only Percy, Annabeth, and their son.

Propped up against the pillows, Annabeth reached out her arms. “I wish to hold him again,” she said, quietly, still so exhausted. “Please.”

He acquiesced without hesitation.

Annabeth took him with a sweetly tired smile, bringing him to her chest. Immediately she returned her gaze to the baby, tenderly fingering a stray wisp of hair on the top of his head.

His breath caught in his throat.

Now he had a better understanding of why the trinity men worshipped a mother.

“What should we name him?” he asked, sitting beside her on the bed.

“I had thought we could call him Perseus,” she said, so taken with the little boy. “A first born son should be named after his father, should he not?”

He swallowed, his heart fit to burst. He deserved not this woman, nor their son, and yet the gods had seen fit to bless him with both. He could not, however, allow his son to labor under his curse. “I think not,” he said, with only a little regret. “I think very much not.” The first, great Perseus was only related to him by the most distant of circumstances. His own mother had given him the name of the only hero of antiquity who had earned a happier ending than his peers, dying old, in his bed, surrounded by his family, in order to pass some of that same luck onto Percy. He had never considered himself terribly lucky, until this very moment, but his life had been a long, hard one, and he did not want his son to share his fate. Percy did not deserve this family--not yet. When he did, then, perhaps, they could have a child which bore his name. Placing a hand on her shoulder, she turned her head to face him. “Let them say,” said Percy, quoting that old poet, “that he is greater, by far, than his father.”

Annabeth’s face fell, but she nodded.

“Alexandros, then,” she said, after a little silence. “Alexandros, for greatness.”

“Alexandros,” he breathed, looking at the child. Will had wrapped him in a bit of the linen Nico had brought with him, and he was, all told, barely bigger than a loaf of bread. “Alexandros is perfect.”

“Then be we agreed.” Annabeth said, pulling down her chemise, and helping the baby latch onto her nipple. Percy retrieved the unicorn draught from its place on the floor, opening the stopper, ready and waiting for her. “Alexandros Thalassinos.”

Beyond the cabin walls, the sea was calm, placid, the ship moving smoothly through the waters towards their final destination, the city on the lagoon. There were many, many things still to be done, money to be exchanged, property to be sought, connections to be forged. What good fortune, then, that they had happened upon Nico di Angelo--the man was surly and ill-tempered, but he had proved himself a good friend and a great ally on many occasions. With his assistance, they would be able to find what they sought in Venice, he was sure of it.

But that was all to be dealt with later. Now, there was Freya, who leapt from the captain’s desk onto the bed, curiously sniffing at the small thing which now occupied her favorite spot of her mistress’ embrace. Now, there was Annabeth, and Alexandros, sweaty and panting and in dire need of a bath.

Now, there was his family.

He wrapped an arm around his wife pressing another kiss to her curls.

“Perfect,” he said. “The greatest.”

#percabeth #the marble king #my fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #pataytayo #uhhhh who else likes this idr #thejudgingtrash

35 notes · View notes

zerot0all · 5 years

Text

ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪɢʜᴛs | ᴍ

.WOONG POV.

.Small story plot. Straight filth. Instant love.

.Rated M for smut & slight fluff.

Enjoy!

She works long hours at that convenience store, putting her life in danger every single night. Those sick humans have tried countless times to take advantage of her ... but not anymore.

That’s why I stick around. Making sure no one touches what’s mine.

She’s fragile. Soft. Gentle. And beautiful beyond belief.. while I’m a monster who dwells the nights feeding off of the sinful.

I’m not like my brothers. I care for the innocent humans. A lot of them are not bad , not as bad as us. Especially her... she’s different. She’s usually alone and helpless, but she’s also strong. She’s continued to move forward in life amongst all the negative shit that keeps getting thrown her way.

Which is why I’m here ... I’ve suddenly fallen for her. The innocence of her beauty and her shy being. I wish to help her with life ... I want her with me.

“Woong, you’re back?” Her smile brightens up my night , it was nearing dawn when I always make an appearance.

“I was kinda craving some Oreo cookies ,” I lie. The excuse is to be around her when it’s her time to clock out , since she walks home, that’s the only way I can protect her at this moment.

“You’ve become my guardian angel, do you know that?” She grins, lighting my world on fire as her eyes watch me. She’s pure. So fucking pure. And the monster within me wishes to taint her soul.. black.

“Well, I’m always here for you if you need me.” I say as calmly as I possibly could, but the simplicity of her innocence and gratefulness has made my chest tighten. Every second being around her has taken so much out of me, the monster within begging to be freed so he can consume. Feast on her delectable sweetness which courses through her precious veins , but I mustn’t.

“Woong?”

She speaks up, bringing me back to reality as I stand outside her apartment door. She watches me , like she’s waiting for me to say something. That’s when I notice I have been transfixed in everything having to do with her, that I never noticed we were at her place already. I shake my head. Almost embarrassed.

“Huh?” I hum, wondering what she was waiting for. Then she giggles, making every inch of my cold blooded body begin to burn up.

“I asked if you would like to come in for some coffee?” She asked again, moving to the side so I would enter. I glanced at her living room, which was right at eye sight. I could- but I shouldn’t.

I blankly looked down at my shoes. Battling with the demon within me, telling him to remain calm. But the more I took in her scent , he hissed. My teeth chattered , my fangs painfully needing to rip through her flesh and-

“Come in, Woong,” her permission made the invisible barrier come crashing down and the monster grin slyly.

Before I knew it , I was making my way into her small apartment. One I’ve watched and protected from the outside for months , taking care of her like as if she belonged to me.

She doesn’t ... not yet, at least.

“How do vampires drink their coffee?” Her sudden question made me freeze , quickly turning towards her small frame as she headed to her kitchen.

“W-What?” I stuttered.

“Wait, do vampires even drink coffee?” Her heartbeat was calm, as well as her voice. Yet, I was on edge.

“H-How-” i tried to ask, only to have her interrupt me.

“Well, I think about three months back , when that old man got loud with me , I saw the way your eyes turned black as you glared him down. Plus, a friend of mine is a vampire too.”

Her bravery had taken a sudden turn, making me smile. News of our kind wasn’t unheard of , but after centuries of being one with the shadows , we are still getting used to humans knowing about us. We live amongst eachother , still keeping silent about our outings ... the war between human and night creatures has been a battle that will reign on for more centuries to come.

Till, of course ... we take over.

“So, you knew all along. And ... you’re not scared?” I question, eyeballing her cocky demeanor. It was something I haven’t seen in her , yet it was refreshing. Her confidence had made everything about her that much more appealing.

She goes to shake her head, biting her bottom lip as a ploy to get me to break. I blink back her alluring poison, making its way into my very own soul. She’s addicting, yet I haven’t even had one single drop of her blood.

I needed her ... bad.

“You don’t scare me ,” she breathed as we stood in the middle of her living room, the light breaking into the sky outside her window announcing early hours of the morning. Her words ran through my head, triggering the monster. But her pure aura has made me calm, making me take a few steps towards her.

“That’s good , because I would never do anything to scare or harm you.” I confess, letting everything I believe fly out the window, along with the meaning of being a deadly killer. I gulp the anticipation down, dreading her reaction. For months, my nights have revolved around her.

Her world.

Her protection. Her safety and her heart.

“And I believe you, Woong.” Her voice was small, tiny even. The sudden jump in her heartbeat let me know , she was feeling more than what she was actually letting on. But as I took a sudden deep breath, I realized what it was.

My dear y/n, was excited. And as her heartbeat began to accelerate, so did my instincts.

“You do know the rule of inviting a vampire inside your home, right?” I purr, getting closer to my prey, to which she nods.

“And you still invited me in? Do you know how dangerous that is, my dear.” I go on. Each step I took towards her ... she took two back, instantly meeting the wall.

“I trust you .... more than you will ever know.” Her lips trembled , her heartbeat faster than ever, as her chest tainted pink along with her cheeks.

We were inches away , breathing the same air as I leaned down, softly rubbing my nose on her cute little button nose. She gasped shyly, closing her eyes shortly.

“You didn’t invite me in for coffee, huh?” I whispered , anticipating the next move. Her trembling hands began to inch closer to me , finding my waist and holding on to my belt. The signs were all there ... her deep breaths, goosebumps, and her radiating essence which called out for me. I was right ... she didn’t want an early morning coffee date ... she wanted something way more carnal and lustful.

I slammed my hands on the wall behind her, cutting it close from her fragile head, making her jolt up in fright. Her eyes finally opened , glancing up at mine . She gasped suddenly, watching as my eyes shifted from black to blood red. I was hungry , daring to crave her very flesh but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her in that manner.

“What do you want?” I hissed. Her eyes not once wavering from my fearful glare , I was letting the monster out , testing the waters of my possibility of holding back. But with each passing second , her aroma filled my lungs.

“Y-You,” she stuttered , taking short breaths as I pinned her to the wall with my hip. Her mouth hung open on a soft sigh, not sure what made her this brave but she slyly lifted a leg, letting me fit right between her sweet thighs. I groaned inwardly , needing her to do or say more.

“For fuck sake my love, tell me what to do.. tell me how to fuck you, give me orders ... I’m here to please no one else but you.” I was her pet , her fool to do as she may. I wanted nothing more in this pathetic world than to cater to her.

“Fuck me against the wall, make me scream your name. I want the whole apartment complex to know who I belong too.” Her voice was small, gentle but yet my cock sprung to life making me see red. I huffed as I went to her , assaulting her lips with mine. She moaned an approval as I kissed her passionately, tasting her tongue, sucking on it to make her groan.

Her tiny hands fumbled with my belt , unbuckling it with an urge. I grinned maliciously, letting her tantrum reign hell as I also went to her jeans. Unzipping and getting rid of them. Her panties went next , just as I dropped my jeans too.

I was admiring the way she let me do as I please , one of my hands held onto her thigh, keeping it lifted as I grinded into her, while my other held onto her face as I kissed her endlessly. My length was heavy with need as it was cradled by her precious cunt, adjusting it between her folds for minimal pleasure. I wanted to get her wet enough so I can fuck her hard and fast , as much as I wish to make love to this innocent human, I needed to be inside her and finally make her mine. Claim her .. leave my mark on her so no one else would even dare approach her.

Time and space itself seemed numb and nowhere to be found as I finally let my throbbing cock sink into her. She was tight... just as I imagined, she was meant for me.

She was destined to be with a monster.

“W-Woong,” she hummed , seductively as her arms went around my neck, gaining control and balance. She did a quick hop , bringing both her thighs to hang on my hip. It was better , easier even for me to thrust up into her core, her essence dripping down along my leg the more I rammed up into her. Her soft voice began to grow with each thrust , sensual moans carefully spiking up to loud screams.

She was close, I could feel it in the way she hugged my cock, the way her legs shook with adrenaline, her thighs clamping around me, as well as her arms tightening their hold. she kept me close , closer than ever. Her heartbeat raced, meeting mine in a rhythmic flow causing me to growl into her neck. I needed to bite her, drink her blood that has been driving me crazy for far too long.

“B-Bite me ,” she whimpered. My eyes shot open at her command , I paused my erratic fucking to look deep in those dark eyes of hers. They were glossy , on the verge of spilling tears of pleasure and the fact that her words sang a song so catchy in my head , I did as my love asked of me.

My fangs elongated swiftly, meeting her flesh within seconds of coming to light. I bit down rapidly, taking one large gulp as both our climaxes joined together. We stood still , she gasped for air as her cunt wrung my dick dry. Meanwhile , I tasted the very liquid gold the originals have casted myths about. The thick crimson juice tasted of sweet sin , and I couldn’t believe she let me.

I didn’t wish to let her go. I wanted to remain stuck to her , let my cock sit within her pretty pussy. I wanted my mouth on hers forever ... for eternity. But as her breathing calmed , so did I. I released her fragile neck, letting my length slip out as I gently let her down. She swayed a little , a normal effect after getting consumed but I held her close. She smelled of lavender, clean and innocent. Yet, my sick and filthy hands have been all over. I claimed her.

She is mine.

“Wanna spend the ... day?” She giggled absentmindedly at her own joke. Knowing the sun was up, it was sure indeed both our bedtime. But she blushed, seeming as beautiful as ever , she was drunk off of me. I couldn’t help but smile at her , this little angel made a monster like myself fold.

“I’ll spend an eternity with you, my love.”

——————————

[MS]

#ab6ix smut #ab6ix woong #ab6ix one shots #ab6ix fanfiction #ab6ix drabbles #ab6ix scenarios #ab6ix woong smut #ab6ix fanfic #ab6ix imagines #ab6ix series #the night series

209 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

~Surprise~ | (m)

read insomnia first if you would like to get a contextual background

accidentally deleted the text when editing dggfdfdfdd.

Words: 2k

pairing: tae x reader

warnings: oral

You were nervous. To say the least. It’s not like this was the first time you had gone to the waxing salon but it definitely was the first time for you to get waxed down there.And for a boy no less? Yeah, even more rare. Usually you just used a razor and called it a day when the situation down under got a little too prickly. More so to stop Taehyung from whining like a baby being inconvenienced when he went down on you despite your protests. But of course, you too, were selfless sometimes and decided to alter you au natural state for your boyfriend. This Saturday would be your and Taehyung’s one year anniversary. Well, technically you’d only be dating for half of this duration but Taehyung refuses to not count the times you both had been friends with… benefits of sorts, claiming that you were smitten with him from day 1. Yeah, you couldn’t believe either that you were dating this man.

Nonetheless, you very much adored that man-child hence the mowing of the garden down there. While Taehyung never explicitly asked you to shave yourself clean, you could tell that he would enjoy that immensely. Especially from the way his eyes had glazed over when he had been reading the pricelist for the salon you usually kept on top of the fridge amongst other takeout menus. At first you’d laughed it off calling him a horndog for getting turned on by reading about Brazilian waxing. Then he had just let out a weirdly squeaky laugh and scurried out of the room to take a shower which was a million times odd in itself. Taehyung and no snarky remark or excessive pouting? Weird of course. But you being the receptive person you were had finally admitted that perhaps he was too much of a gentleman to request something like this from you. It was different when both of your brains were clouded with lust and carnal desires were being fired from his mouth left and right. But consciously asking you to wax yourself for him? Yeah, he wasn;t going to ask you that now. Maybe when both of you had just started dating? But certainly not now. He’d matured quite a bit since then frankly or maybe he just respects and likes you that much more now. Which, the thought of, brought all sorts of butterflies to your stomach.

And back then, you would’ve laughed in his face and would have said no in a heartbeat. Now? You’d frankly do anything for him. And so you had. Your boyfriend wanted your vagina bald, secretly of course, so you had gone and went through the painful experience to give him bald. And that wasn’t the only reason you were walking slowly towards your dorm, being sensitive and tender down there and all. Just the thought of telling him about it was mortifying. How does one even go about doing that? You’re mulling it all over in your head as you go to unlock the door but find it already open, only hinging it slightly to enter. Taehyung was sitting on the floor, playing overwatch on the computer that he’d set up in the corner of your room because he couldn’t live without playing the damn game at least once a day. You swear you were his sidepiece and the game was who he was actually dating.

“H-hey. Already back?” He was half listening to you as he frantically clicked his mouse and spoke in to the mic attached to his headpiece.

“Jungkook you fucking prick! We were so close to topping the leaderboard. Try to remember these are cartoon tits, not real!” Yeah, this was pretty normal.

“No I’m not going to calm down Jimin-ah. Not since I did all the killing! God, fuck.” Okay he did need to chill.

“Tae? You need some water?” Leaning down to kiss his reddened cheek you can hear the laughter coming from the headset faintly – the boys most likely laughing at him.

“No babe. What I need is for Jungkook to not get distracted by D.Va’s tits.”

“Hey these are actual girls playing those characters!”

“Do you realize how sad and pathetic you sound kook?” Jimin’s airy laugh is the last thing you hear before you straighten up and put down the containers of takeout you’d brought for dinner on your way back. Taehyung still immersed in the game, laughing along, bringing out a smile on your own face.

God. You’d become so different now. Too smiley. Taehyung could just sound happy and you would want to smile and hold his hands. Eugh. What had he done to you.

“Why are you looking horrified at the food? Is it not what you ordered?” Snapping out of your inner monologue, you just leave the containers packed to sit on your bed and wait for Taehyung to finish his game. There was no way you two were going to eat before he finished whatever round he was doing.

“Nothing. I-I’m fine.” Your wince doesn’t go unnoticed when you cross your legs to try and get a little more warmth around your centre. Your appointment was barely 3 hours ago. Right then, Taehyung is cursing at the monitor before he takes off his headset and looks back at you.

“I swear, I’m going to kill him one of these days.”

“Tae,” you deadpan, “It’s important to separate virtual reality from actual reality. Are you aware?” He’s sauntering over at you to tower above, cocking his head to the side before he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bed.

“Where were you? I thought your waxing only took an hour?”

And everything was rushing back in to your head at the speed of light. You’d done something for your boyfriend which you were so excited about but so nervous to admit. Would he think you were trying too hard? Maybe you just read in to things too much and he is ambivalent to the whole concept? Oh god. Yu hadn’t prepared enough for this. Okay, it was now or never. You were no little bitch.

Just kidding. You just couldn’t keep your mouth in check. “I got a Brazilian wax.”

There. You said it. The cock in his eyebrow doesn’t tell you much.

“A Brazilian wax? Is that a type?” He was adorably confused and you couldn’t believe he didn’t know.

“Y-You really don’t know?” When he’s still just blinking down at you – yeah, this was even more unexpected.

“I got waxed… down there.” His eyes are all but bulging out of his head and you sigh internally. Okay, there we go.

“You waxed your pussy?!” This sounded way less sexy than you imagined and his disbelief has you rolling your eyes. Taehyung drops to his knees suddenly, still looking up at you. “For me? Really?”

You couldn’t believe the amount of adoration in his eyes. Really, this is all that was going to take to have him on his knees? You had to bite back the snort. God, your boyfriend was a simple, one-track minded man. A simple, horny man.

“Yeah. It hurt like a bitch so you better be thankful punk.” Taehyung isn’t returning your playful glare. In fact, he looks way too serious. You recognised this look and it was finally showing. But even after seeing him with such unabashed need apparent in his expression countless times – it never failed to have you tightening your legs, crossing them as you felt the arousal leak.

“Y/n… Baby?” His hands were searing your skin that wasn’t covered by the shorts, massaging your legs and brushing inside your thighs ever so slightly.

“Y-Yes?” your voice was small. Nervous but excited.

Taehyung glances down between your legs, taking a salacious little bite of his pink lips.

“Can I have a look?” Your panicky brain wants to smart mouth him but your ever growing wet pussy wants to shove his face in there. “Can I please see your pussy baby?”

His mouth is sin and his whisper is the silver platter he’s delivering it in. And you’re gladly taking the bait when your legs fall open, muttering a shy, ‘okay’. He looks like he’s about to open his most prized present as he carefully slide down your shorts, rubbing his thumb over your damp panties before shooting you a lascivious look that makes you shiver.

The small moan you suppress only develops in to a bigger one when Taehyung presses down on the button of your clit before sliding off your underwear completely, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck…. so pretty.” The way he looks between your legs makes you want to close them. He’s so focused and almost looks like he’s in pain. “You did this for me baby?”

“I-I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary.” You keep glancing between looking at his handsome face and his strong veiny hands kneading the soft flesh of your mound around your sex. You held back a wince when he slides his thumb down the sides of your nether lips.

“I love it. You’re so pretty,” he suddenly leans down and gives you a little kiss above of your clit, making your body jerk forward.

“Does it still hurt?” Taehyung slips his finger downwards to gather some of the wetness that had been leaking and you’re mortified. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

“J-Just a little tender.” Your voice is small and he can tell you’re still shy.

“You’re so pink and pretty, y/n. No need to be embarrassed.” His teasing little chuckle has you hitting his shoulder when your foot which he effectively secures on his shoulder.

“Be thankful I did this for you. I would’ve never gotten waxed.. there otherwise.”

“Gladly. All I want to do is thank you baby.” His cheesy line doesn’t get a retort when he starts kissing all around your core with his addictive mouth, shutting you up and instead making it difficult for you to breathe.

“You’re so wet baby. Do you want me to clean you up, hm? Fuck… your pussy looks so pretty I don’t even want to put my cock in here and ruin it.” That makes you whine in protest and Taehyung just chuckles away before giving your mound a hot lick.

“Mm. This is even better with you all smooth like this… I can eat you forever babe.”

You’re biting your own lips and looking down at Taehyung who looks so sinful you can feel the arousal dripping out of you. Gosh, he was so hot. His tongue had started to lick fat stripes all over your pussy now, catching your arousal in strings on his tongue.

“Does it feel better if I lick here now? Hm? How about this.” His tongue rests heavily beneath your entrance before he drags it upwards to your slit and stops at your clit, making you lose your mind as your whimpers get louder and more frequent.

“S-So good- ah.” He’s watching your expression as he licks and prods at the folds surrounding your clit – your labia, lips of your pussy. When he starts to moan along with each clit you can’t help the gush of liquid pouring out of your clenching pussy.

“You’re so sticky and wet baby. I love eating your cunt. All mine.” He’s growling his possessive words and your legs are coming to together to trap his head in as your hands find purchase on to the bedsheets underneath you. But before then can clamp shut, he’s pushing them apart and pinning them down while continuing to gorge himself on you. His chin was wet with your arousal and you were so close to cumming – you wanted him to get inside you already.

“T-Tae, please. I need you.”

“And I need to eat this cunt y/n. Don’t deny me.” He’s latching his lips on to your clit, forming a vacuum like sucking before he pulls back his mouth, dragging your flesh with it. The pressure is so intense you thought you might start hyperventilating soon.

“I’m so close,” Your whimper doesn’t make him speed up though. He’s taking his time, enjoying his leisurely pace, licking deep inside your folds until they were wet again with your juices to start all over again. You were whimpering with no apprehension now, bucking your hips in his mouth as you clutched the sheets for dear life. Being completely bare down there made every lash of his tongue all the more concentrated.

“Stay still y/n. I can’t eat you properly if you keep moving.” He almost sounds menacing as he growls for you to stay still, tightening his hold on to your legs even more.

“Y/n.” He warns again when your hips don’t stop jerking.

“I-I can’t. I’m so close Tae. Make me c-cum. Please.” You’re crying out louder when he starts to drag the flat of his tongue over and over on your clit. His movements are fast and rough, shoving so much desire inside your body as you try your best to keep still.

It’s when he slides his tongue as deep as it can go, caressing your inner walls that you gush all over his face.

“Fuck! You squirted babe. So hot.” His face is still shoved deep between your legs as he keep licking all over your trembling pussy. You’re twitching and crying as your grab on to his hair, not knowing whether you were pushing him back or pulling him forward. Him not backing away was not helping.

“Cum again for me baby. I love your smooth pussy. I just wanna keep licking you. God, you’re so addicting. Give me some more y/n. Come on.” His head is moving frantically between your legs, almost disappearing out of your view each time he dips low to start his tantalising licks from the bottom to the top where he sucked your clit for a few seconds before doing it all over again. You were too far gone to keep watching him at this point.

“Tae, e-enough. Oh my god,” you’re squeaking embarrassingly before you cum again, back bowing off the bed as Taehyung continues to drink you in. Making loud messy noises as he gulps noisily.

You’re sure you’d blacked out for a few seconds because you don’t remember when Taehyung had climbed on top of your trembling body.

“Best present ever.” You’re too tired to respond so you just pull him on top before falling in to a comfortable sleep.

a/n: thots?

#bts smut #taehyung smut #insomnia au #taehyung

1K notes · View notes

mintjamsblog · 4 years

Note

Just read the last chapter of Gold and it was amazing. I would LOVE to get Alfie's POV on that whole chapter. I mean if you had time.

Great idea! So this is basically an insight into Alfie’s head during Gold Part III. The morning after that first night together …

When Alfie wakes up and looks over at Tommy’s back he has no expectations at all. Because last night was pretty amazing, but it didn’t exactly go according to plan. Getting fucked … that was definitely not what Alfie had had in mind. Still, he could hardly begrudge that little favour after Tommy had let himself go so beautifully now, could he? And yeah, Alfie’s gonna be feeling it all day, s’gonna be fuckin’ distracting innit? Being reminded of Tommy’s overwrought face every time he shifts in his chair. Hmmm.

There’s no telling how this is gonna go, is there? Still, no point in putting it off, so he reaches over to rest a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He can’t help but be disappointed when Tommy flinches like he’s been burned, all tough and rigid beneath Alfie’s fingers—like a piece of dough left out too long. Which is a shame, because he softened up like a dream last night, let Alfie knead him until he was smooth and elastic and malleable as fuck. But maybe that’s the problem. Because an over-kneaded dough makes a rock-hard loaf, don’t it? Alfie should bloody-well know.

It’s little surprise when, after that, Tommy fucks off as quickly as possible. Not very original. And rude, quite frankly, but there are no rule-books for this type of encounter and it’s not like Alfie can remember the last time he fucked someone he hadn’t paid, so he tries not to take it to heart. Not to dwell on it.

But dwell on it he does. All day. He oscillates between extreme disgruntlement at the manners of some people and pathetic longing to repeat the encounter. He’s a cunt to Olly from the moment he arrives at the bakery until the moment he fucks off at four o’clock to go home and have a bath. Because on top of the obvious soreness there are other aches and pains niggling at him, and not just the sciatica. He has cramp in his right hand after only a few signatures, fingers tightening up like a claw (thank god they didn’t do that last night). He decides to leaves his desk to go intimidate some of the workers instead. Except that wandering the bakery soon alerts him to the tightness in his shoulders and the ache in his back. Problems he wouldn’t have if he’d paid a little more attention to his own pleasure and a little less to someone else’s.

When the door opens that evening he’s reheating the soup Edna’s made and yeah, he’s surprised to see Tommy standing there. His stomach tightens in anticipation but he’s not quite ready to throw his arms out in greeting. When Tommy starts mumbling about kitchens and second courses he can’t resist the urge to be difficult, despite the childish pout on that pristine face. He’s pretty sure that soup’ll be burning by now, but what’s one ruined supper compared to Tommy’s clear discomfort? He always was soft for pretty things.

The loss of Edna’s oxtail pales quickly into insignificance when he feels Tommy’s lips on his neck. Now that was unexpected—Tommy initiating physical contact (without any razor-sharp comments)—and fuck if he’s going to let that go to waste.

By the time he has Tommy naked, beneath him, his mind is focused on one thing, and one thing only. He wants that look on Tommy’s face again, that soft, overwhelmed look that’s so at odds with his usual polished facade. He wants Tommy to want this. Which is why he makes him say it, say the words out loud, so that it’s not some sordid little secret, some threshold crossed by accident in the heat of the moment.

“Fuck me,” Tommy says, with enough conviction to make Alfie growl. He knows there’s trepidation beneath the surface and he is going to expose it. He is gonna make Tommy open up and give in, admit to his own desires, take every bit of pleasure Alfie can give. He can’t help but stroke his fingers over one fine cheekbone; the defiant tilt of Tommy’s chin and the steely look in his eyes are so obviously for Alfie’s benefit and so obviously a front. It makes him feel tender and cruel at the same time. Tommy’s no timid virgin and yet just now, in this moment, Alfie can almost imagine he is. Which perhaps shouldn’t make him feel as predatory as it does, but who is he to care?

When Tommy lets him push his fingers back inside Alfie feels relieved as much as anything, relieved that he has been granted this privilege a second time. And aroused, fucking aroused, because don’t Tommy just feel soft down there? Because of Alfie. He’s clearly still feeling last night, even if he’s trying not to let it show, but gradually relaxes—with the help of more oil and a slower touch—until he is melting under Alfie’s hands. Soft sighs and stifled moans are fluttering into the sheets and Alfie can’t help but kiss the smooth white skin of Tommy’s back. God he wants to keep him like this—pliant and needy—wants to work him until he’s pleading. But it seems that Tommy’s read his mind, his voice just slightly panicked as he whines out, “don’t you dare … don't you dare do what you did last night ... I can’t.” And that’s almost a challenge innit? Because of course, Alfie can if he wants. But there’s something else he wants far more that he won’t let evade him tonight.

A warmth engulfs Alfie, like a strong wind spreading a fire, a physical reaction to the rare and precious gift of skin and muscle and sweat. He pulls Tommy closer, squeezes him hard and still it’s not close enough; he lines himself up to press in, to make their bodies one for a few short minutes at least. He pauses, briefly, pinching hard on Tommy’s nipple, not to be cruel (although that's what he'll claim if pushed) but to distract from the burn he knows is coming. Perhaps he’s going soft in his old age, or perhaps the memory of yesterday is making him unusually empathetic. It’s certainly not because he doesn’t think Tommy can take it, because Tommy's had far, far worse. But if Alfie was forced to be honest, then Tommy’s enjoyment is rather high up on his list of objectives for this evening.

He needs to stop thinking about Tommy and start thinking about himself because otherwise this entire, delicious occasion will be nothing more than a memory (together with his pride).

He stops again—conscious of the exaggerated stillness beneath him—and says something vaguely reassuring, (he’s not entirely sure what, because his mind is entirely focused on resisting the desire to bury himself to the hilt). Tommy is struggling and trying to hide it, Alfie knows ‘cause he’s been there himself. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is, Tommy’s attempt to mask his discomfort, to act as if this is nothing. And so, when Tommy urges him on, he doesn't question the order, rather buries himself in those forbidden depths even if he knows it’s perhaps a bit soon. He’s only human afterall—and it feels too heavenly—although the scraped-raw expletive from Tommy’s lips might just send him straight to hell.

He pulls Tommy’s face round just to watch; to see if he looks as ravished as he sounds. Of course he fucking does, his cheeks are pink and his mouth is loose and Alfie wants to tell him so but instead he tightens his grip on Tommy’s jaw, one thumb pressed against his lips. And doesn’t Tommy just take it in, close his mouth around Alfie’s thumb and suck like a newborn babe? Two appendages wrapped in hot, wet heat is almost too much to bear. Tommy bites down hard, which is just as well, because the sudden pain is the only thing that holds Alfie’s resolve together.

He wonders if Tommy’s doing it on purpose, if this elaborate display of submission is in fact an attempt at control. If it is then it’s fucking skilful, because if he asked right now then Alfie would give him the world. But no, he decides. This vulnerability isn't something Tommy gives it's something Alfie takes. And if this is indeed an honest moment then Alfie wants to savour it.

They lay like that, locked together, unmoving until Alfie tries to extract his thumb, to get this back on track. But when Tommy sucks at it desperately, with a panicked little moan, Alfie doesn’t have the heart to deny him such a simple comfort. It ignites a fiercely protective instinct too, makes Alfie’s insides squirm and swell alarmingly. He starts to move again, to turn his mind back to more carnal pleasures. He starts slow, but Tommy responds and it’s not long before they’re fucking, properly fucking, before Alfie is making him move and moan in ways that he has only dreamt of. And still Tommy sucks his thumb. Like a little suckling lamb, Alfie thinks, and then has to share that thought, has to whisper it into Tommy’s ear to see what reaction he gets. He knows enough to surmise that the words will shame Tommy, and that the shame will arouse him further. He isn’t disappointed. A flick of his wrist and a few careful strokes and he’s rewarded with Tommy spasming around him. Beautiful. Abandoned. It doesn’t take much until Alfie is joining him, silently spilling his seed. And Tommy takes it, doesn’t he, like a fucking gift, groans like he’s coming again.

Afterwards, when they’re lying face-to-face and he’s ruthlessly teased Tommy and been thumped for his efforts, he wants to pull the man close. He settles for rearranging the pillows, for indulging an absurd inclination to make Tommy comfortable; to watch him doze and feed him sandwiches and grumble about the news. He wants to do it again. All of it. Wants to fuck him of course, but not only that, wants to lay side by side and listen to the shipping forecast and debate politics and just fucking … be with this man. And that way lies heartbreak don’t it? But it’s not like he has any choice. Not like he’s gonna kick him out or turn him away or not ask to do this again. The bread’s been baked and he’s gonna fucking well eat it until every last morsel is gone. Or it moulds. Or gets stolen. Only time will tell.

#peaky blinders #tofie #sholomons #tommy x alfie #asks

25 notes · View notes

c-atm · 4 years

Text

Drive/Home:The path to you (Astral connection part 3)

Connie looked outside of her window with a groan. She was feeling lonely and touch-starved. She hasn't seen Steven in the last two months, the last they met being their time in the dream...When he told of his visions of his mother. The last time they talked was a week after, a small sweet text with a little information about his next destination, though it had a typo..

‘Can’t wait to meet up again. I'll contact you when I reach my next destination; it's a beach tourist town. I'll pick you up there for your birthday. I love you, Dream Berry’

Connie sighed, a mixture of sadness and pining in the same breath.

“What a way to bring in my twentieth birthday.” She looked at the clock near her bed reading 12:30 am.She officially turned twenty, thirty minutes ago...More importantly to her, it was officially one year since Steven and her became ‘Dream buds’.

“Is he having second thoughts, regrets?”

Connie has been wondering about this since for a couple of weeks...Within the dream they crafted, they acted like newlyweds. They talked intimately, sharing secrets no one else knew, like him no longer being a vegetarian and her getting a tattoo on her right inner thigh...A black and red star.

They kissed each tenderly, passionately, and hungrily, in ways and places only they could. They touched each other in ways that only they could. They loved each other in ways special to them. He loved her in ways no other man or woman would ever be allowed to; an exchange of each other's last bit of mental and spiritual chastity.

She was grateful it was through astral connection and not yet a physical one, or they might've been in trouble after the first few times.. She did start to take precautions in the physical plane, for when...If they did.

“What a way to wake from a dream though. Even more tired, but so much more...Everything else.”

His little carnal text of thank you’s and praise for her amorous nature, they were always the highlight of waking up after those types of nights. It was revitalizing to have him not just enjoy her more... Erotic side...but appreciate it; welcomed it.

"Though Dreamscuit is more libidinous, than I expected." She let out a silent chuckle as she thought of one particular time they were carnivorous with each other.

The scene was a hidden spring he found on his travels, surrounded by tropical foliage and a waterfall spilling into it. He was in it, bare as birth, looking towards her who sat on the edge in her nightwear. The story of how he came across it was simple.

He fell in after chasing down and poofing a falcon like gem mutant. The mutant was causing problems for a nearby cape town with its destructive behavior, running through shops and breaking merchandise, ravaging the forest nearby, rampaging through the streets. He put an end to it after a chase through the forest, and a well placed shield bash after hitching a ride in its back.

He plummeted, as the falcon was already diving in attempt to throw him off, leaving him flying down the path set for him. Which happened to be in the spring, he was slightly knocked out due to the force of entry. He stated he dreamed about her during that time...Always dreamed about her when he came here.

Her asking him to tell her his dreams sealed the deal as he swam over to her, innocently; placed his hands on her knees, innocently ; and suggested he showed her his dream; INNOCENTLY . She agreed of course, it was her Innocent Dreamberry.

Which is why she was surprised when he examined her new tattoo thoroughly, through kneading, suckling and nipping. When he touched her in ways and places she herself dreamed about., stealing her breath, making lay back as he revealed his fantasies through action..and unknowingly, allow Connie to live out her own, in a manner of speaking.

At the end, she sat upon him in the spring, peppering his neck and chin with kisses and nips as he held and instinctively caressed her in away only her can. A way only she would allow him too. They were bare, bitten, bathed in sweat and spring water, and felt a bit bestial in their actions; but there were love with the lust, care with the carnality, romance with ravishing, solicitude with the sex. Their appetitive actions were fueled by their unyielding adoration for each other. It was wonderful..as was the three rounds after; they turned out to be quite the carnivorous couple.

"Couple..are we a couple?"

Small thoughts like that plagued her over the last two weeks, like an annoying bug that won't die and she couldn't stand herself for having them. Six weeks of complete Steven silence led her to uncertainty, over-worry, doubt. It brought thoughts of him being hurt, lost, in danger..even..

"No..He's ok..He's fine..much better than before he left on all fronts."

A calming thought that was compounded by even worse ones...Her thoughts went from his well being to their new status and the possibility of him no longer seeing her like that. Maybe he found someone else he can be physically intimate with instead of just in a dreamscape? Maybe he found someone better to be with? Maybe he found a better life in the town he was going to..and didn't want to break her heart.

Is this what it was to miss your partner...your lover? Could they even say they were together.. Everything happened in their dreams. Besides fatigue nothing physical passed on.

" Maybe, I'm delusional and even sent those texts to myself." Connie laughed a harsh wet laugh as she laid on her bed. She was so pathetic right now. She knew better. She knows better.. She was just missing him..Badly.

"Get it together, Maheswaran...Just because he's not around doesn't mean your world stops and everything you shared is moot. You went ten months without him and kept it together. Besides, you know your Biscuit, your Steven...Your man...Whatever reason he's been silent, it's important."

Rationality and logic sucks sometimes...She did know Steven and because she knew him, she could reason that he going silent was probably important...Yet stupid. He has a track record of ghosting people because he believes it's the right thing to do at the moment or he didn't want to burden someone..That thought just stroked her ire. She looked towards her phone and all the messages she sent him without a response..

"I'm gonna smother him next time we meet.. I swear to the stars."

Just as she was about to send another text..A roar was heard outside her window. She turned to see Lion, by himself looking up expectantly, ready for his mistress to mount him.

"Well, at least there is one dependable guy in my life."

Connie smirked as she got her jacket, her sword and went to meet her current favorite boy in the whole universe. She kissed the beast skull as she nuzzled close to him. Who in turned nuzzled against the crook of her neck before licking her cheek, making her giggle. She really could count on Lion to make her feel better.

"Why couldn't you be human, you'd be the best partner. Adorable, dependable, loyal, near ageless, able to teleport where you want..NOT LARS, but of course you have to be a lion, so I can only love you like a son."

She mounted the pink beast, ready for wherever they were going. With a roar, Lion created a portal and the two were off.

"So where are you taking me this time, Lion. A meadow, a battlefield, a forest." She chuckled as she held onto the beast. This wasn't the first time Lion took her out on a stroll alone. Far from it, this has been a common occurrence ever since Steven's surrender all them years ago.

She was surprised to see them on the beach behind the temple..The place where she officially met Steven. He bent down allowing her to mount off him. She turned to the sea rested her sword down and watched the serene waves as Lion gave her one last lick and nuzzle, before walking off...As he does on their 'dates', until the time he's needed. She sat pulling her knees to her chest as she took in the scent of the beach with her eyes closed.

The sand, surf and saltwater; his old smell, comforting as always...His smell now was a lot more woody, musty, musky. earthly..It was consuming, arousing and energizing…

Thinking about it made her imagine him. His broad chest, large limbs,long locks, whiskered face, rugged face and strong let pleasant breath. She was so lost in her thoughts that they could literally feel his touch upon her.

The fell of his arms holding her in that special way, around her middle and just above her chest. His inner thighs brushing against her hips as he sat her on his crossed legs, the feel of his whiskered chin on her collarbone. She could feel him, smell him.

"So this is what it means to be in love.. To long for someone so much that you can feel their presence even when they are not around. You're not even here..I don't know where you are, but I feel your touch, smell your scent... Isn't that stupid.,,"

"I wouldn't say that, Birthday Berry."

Connie's eyes opened up a husky, wine-like voice, as she looked up to Steven's smirking face. She looked past him for a moment before stretching out her hand to the left as flexing her fist.

"I..I'm not dreaming."

"Oh."

"I was going to summon a wiffle bat and bash your head in."

"Ouch.."

" I can't...I can't see the edge of our scene...Cause it's not a scene… It's real..,"

Steven kissed her crown tenderly as her breath became short, her eyes moistened and her hands trembled as she reached up and touched his face. It was warm..much warmer than the last twelve months. They chuckled, giggled and laughed as the tears began to fall from both of them. Connie kissed his temple as they held each other closed. Silently whispering to each other affirmation after affirmation, that this moment was reality, he was there with her, she was there with him, they were holding, kissing basking in each other in reality.

Connie turned towards him to hold her best friend and be held by him, before looking up. " Was it real?..Last year.. Those times..Was that really.."

She never got to finish as he kissed her tenderly.. The same way he's done it for the last year..Except more chapped, more full, had more heat, softer, gentler..yet rugged. It was his kiss..just not as a dream and she melted for it all the same.

He broke it and looked at her before whispering in her ear about the spring. About what they did in the spring. About the bites, the sounds, the words..Her mark's on his back. About him paying so much attention to her star.

Connie gulped as she covered her face in embarrassment.

"It was all real, Dream Berry. So to speak." He stroked her hair, as he reaffirmed last year.

Connie laid her head on his chest before taking his hand in hers. "You're so big now."

"You've said that, almost every time we've met"

"Can't I admire your growth."

"Sure, as long as I can admire your own."

Connie smirked impishly as she covered herself playfully. "These curves are for my partner and me only.."

"Isn't that me though."

Connie looked to the sea. "I thought so..I hoped so..then you went ghost...AgaIn." She looked towards him with a sadden glint in her eye. "Two months, No contact.. What happened?"

Steven sighed, shame coming from the breath. "I did what I said I was going to. I came to a beach tourist town..I returned here, was here for a bit, maybe a night ..Before heading to Homeworld."

Connie listened intently as he told her of the last two months. How he paid a visit to Homeworld, where he experienced a galactic jamboree. From the consensus it was surprisingly a lot of fun compared to the last ones; now that era 3 was in full effect. He also found out that the diamonds were thinking about sending gems to other planets as diplomatic representatives in hope to find other ways to expand their race and ranks without harming another.

He told the Diamonds, Spinel, and Volleyball the truth about his mother's feelings for them. How she regretted everything she did to them and loved them all until her last second, despite everything that transpired. Told them everything she did to herself in their name as well. It was a bittersweet conversation but it did put some things in perspective.

He was on Homeworld a month before heading back to the beach city, to the temple, to his family. He was surprised to see all six gems and his father waiting, expecting him to come out of the warp stream. They all stood silently for what seemed like an eternity.

"I cried. I took a deep breath...I was going to say hi...Joke...Something...but I cried...We all cried."

Connie let use a chortle, wiping a tear herself. " Of course, you guys did. Not seeing each other for so long, seeing how everyone changed, must've been shocking. Wish I was there to see the reunion."

"If they hadn't ambushed me like that, you would've, I digress though.."

Steven continued his tale, speaking of his journeys across the earth, The same tales he told Connie. He was surprised at the changes of the gems.

Pearl was giving relationships a chance with Sabina. Amethyst really took over as Little homeschool headmaster and even got Jasper in her staff, as a teacher in motivation.That made Steven pause for a moment, but he accepted it. Garnet was the vice headmaster of little Homeworld. Peridot, along with Bismuth, Pearl and Connie made little homeworld R&D, with Bismuth and Pearl acting as directors, as Peri still had her gardening classes to attend to and Connie had college. Lapis took her art online and got exposure for some of their meep-morps. Lapis was on her way to becoming famous and Greg is managing her. Bismuth took her forging online and now has a following of 10 mill on tubetube. As for Greg,he was still his dear old dad...Just a little grayer.

After catching up, Steven sat them down in the living room before telling them about Rose quartz, and unlike with the diamonds and Spinel, he told them everything. Her travels, her self-hatred, Sheva, the self-poofing...Everything.

"We've put a smaller version of her picture back on the living room desk. It's progress."

"I take it, they were reeling from the revelation."

Steven nodded. "Garnet split to hold each other, Lapis and Peri consoled Bismuth, Dad and Pearl had each other."

"And Amethyst?"

"Amethyst...Actually took it well, better than anyone else."

Connie features softened at the prideful look on his face.

"She took me to the side and asked me how I'm handling it. I told her that I was fine..Which I was and am..I came to terms with what she was and dealt with…How she dealt with them.."

His eyes glistened a bit as he held his head down thinking about Rose and how similar he was to her.

"We had a nice one-on-one...Talked about how I was going down a similar path as mom. Starting to hate myself for not being needed, or able to help people...You know, things I told you."

Connie nodded as she recalled one of their first dreams together. She remembered holding him as tearfully told her how he started to feel unfulfilled and useless again. After everything he went through to get better even seeing a therapist. He still felt the need to get away from everyone and everything related to the Crystal gems. He felt like he still needed to find himself..These were the reasons he left.

“After that..Amethyst asked when did I talk to you about this."

Connie eyes widened at the statement, trying to hide her shock through a smirk. " What?"

"She just figured it out. Said that I had a certain calmness and maturity, about everything. Said the only time I am like that is when I talk to you and mulled it over."

He took her hands in his and gave them a kiss. Connie squeezed them back.

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth...No need to keep it hidden…"

" Oh..And what truth is that?"

Connie smirked as he felt his lips upon hers, his thumbs massaging the back of her hands. His smell invigorating her senses… He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, nuzzling behind her ear giving her small nips.

" Said I've been visiting my girl twice a month, for the last year."

"Hmm.. Except for the last two."

As Steven pulled away ready to apologize to Connie, when she placed her index on his lips, shaking her head as she did.

"Don't...You did nothing wrong. If anything, I should apologize...I wanted you to feel a bit bad for not contacting me, that's not how you treat your partner."

"Your partner, huh?"

"I mean.."

Her bashful side glance made him snort, which in turn made her cheeks flamed. "If you'd have me."

With amusement, Steven caressed her left cheek before drawing close. Nose tips touched as he looked into her deep black eyes.

"Obviously. I am still under the assumption that today is our anniversary, as well as your birthday. Am I…"

"No!" Connie let a little stifled laugh at Steven's surprised face. Her heart was pounding against her chest, she found it hard to look at his eyes..she felt anxious, excited, and scared. "No. You're not wrong…I..I also thought of us as a couple since then...Though we never defined it, exactly."

"Dream-buds"

She smiled as she nuzzled into the stroking palm, kissing it. The moonlit ocean giving her eyes an fantastical glow. "We're not in a dream now, Dreamscuit."

His face turned pink and not from his gem. "And yet you're still calling me that.”

“Of course...You’re my Biscuit and a big piece of my dream for the future. Besides, you called me Dream Berry. Why is that?”

Steven licked his lips before letting his his hands rest on her hips and pulling her close...Trying to ignore how thin her nightwear was. She tilted her head slightly to the right as she saw a passionate light in his cool, almond eyes.

“You know why..It’s the same reason as you to me.”

Connnie gave a teasing grin, before tracing his cheek and jaw. She kissed him lovingly, passionately, heartfully. Her loneliness and heartache over the two months, her regret and penance over doubting him for even a moment. Her swelling pride and carnal hunger for him, Her thankfulness and graciousness over his safe return. Her happiness and undaunting love for him. It was all displayed, all revealed to him in that kiss.

Her kiss tenderness left him awe-struck, the depth; weak, the emotion; speechless.The touch left him trembling. His heart swelled and burst as he held her close by her back returning the kiss...The emotions He felt rejuvenated, reborned, truly reformed .He felt as he truly returned home.

They broke the kiss, laughing with tears in their eyes. Words lost them as they wiped each other's eyes and gave each other chatse kisses.. It was a few moments before they relaxed, opting to hold each close.

“I love you.”

Both their eyes widened at the dual confession,neither expecting it from the other first. Connie broke out of the stupor first, tackling him down to lay upon him. Her head on his chest ear to heart.

“You are home with us, with me. After so long. It’s real…In the present.”

Steven held her close, left hand stroking her head, right arm around her waist. “Yeah..I’m finally home..Finally where I want to be.”

As he gaze down at her receiving a small yet illuminating grin. He couldn’t help but think that both their present and future never looked so brighter.

#Connie Maheswaran #Steven universe #jambudweek2020 #drive #home #Connverse #Rose quartz #StevenXConnie #Self-hate #Journey #Tales #Astral connection #Reunion #Steven's finally home

16 notes · View notes

thecrownedbeastarchive · 5 years

Text

Unholy (Priest!Michael LangdonxReader)

Author’s note: This was a Millory fanfic I wrote a few months back. I edited it to be a Michael LangdonxReader fanfic. I thought you all would enjoy it! More fanfic to come thanks to your requests. 💜

Warnings: public masturbation, blasphemy, domination, bondage, nsfw

You were a faithful churchgoer. From your first breaths to now, your parents had instilled in you a sense of dutiful religion. The first thing you’d done after moving away from home was find a local church; and you found a perfect one in The Cathedral of Our Lady of Purity. The congregation was warm and welcoming, you felt at home instantly. The church leaders were devoted men of God, upright and holy. You believed they were the perfect shepherds to your soul. All except for one. A tall, young priest by the name of Father Michael Langdon.

Your trepidation had no basis in outward appearance. He was by all accounts a calm, disciplined man who took great care for the disenfranchised and delivered the most impassioned sermons you’d ever sat under. He was charismatic, helpful, walking in a regal dignity one expects of a representative of Christ. Perhaps it was his looks that so unnerved you. Often when looking upon him at the altar, you would compare him to the stone and stained glass angels encompassing the sanctuary. His golden hair would glow from the streaming sunlight, casting a halo around his head. His face was artwork, not one feature ill placed or imperfect. His eyes were blue as the heavens, and could hold you fast in your place like a command from God himself. His lips…You shook your thoughts away. Father Langdon had plagued your mind for three months. You would scold yourself, commanding your body to free itself from carnal desires; but the image of his mouth, his body, his manhood hidden under black trousers you wanted to see free and throbbing-Oh God! This was your reason for going to confession today. You’d been neglecting it, but now you knew you couldn’t give allowance to your sins any longer. The Cathedral was as grand and opulent as any; white columns, golden holy imagery welcoming the searching soul. There was a smattering of people, elderly men and women praying, some deacons milling about. The left door of the confession booth opened and a middle aged man stepped out, tipping his hat as he passed you. You entered the booth, making the sign of the cross upon sitting down, and took a deep breath, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been 3 months since my last confession.”

Your blood chilled when a familiar dulcet voice came from the other side, “I would have pegged you for more of a faithful confessor than that, (Y/N),” the voice chuckled.

Your legs tensed as you instinctively fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, “Father Langdon…”

The lattice of the window separating you still allowed the general shape of his blond locks to peek through, “I’m sorry, I know that’s not an appropriate thing for a priest to say at confession. I just hate how formal this has to be. I consider us friends, (Y/N),” his voice inexplicably dropped to just above a whisper, “Don’t you?”

You swallowed, your chest thumping, “Yes, but would a friendship at all impede this sacrament?”

His silence made you clarify, “I mean, for there to be bias on both sides.”

He hummed, a vibration that made your breath catch, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. There is no one better to confess to than a friend.”

The booth was suddenly cramped, musty. Your throat dry like a desert.

“The Lord has also given me a unique talent,” he continued, “an ability to discern the darkness of human souls. Those hidden sins, forbidden lusts that wake them late at night,” his tone was penetrative, “cause them to writhe upon their bed. I can unravel their mysteries and bring them to the light.”

You closed your legs even tighter, desperately ignoring the pulse between them, “I don’t have any dark places.”

“None?” He played with every word like a cat with its prey, “If we say we have not sin, we are a liar and the truth is not in us.”

You cleared your throat, the heat beneath your skirt begging for attention, “I meant, of course I have a sinful nature, but I simply don’t possess as deep a dark place as you speak of,” you dug your nails into your thigh, “I’ve never been one to contemplate on sinful things.”

A tense silence hung in the booth before he spoke, “I can sense that in you, (Y/N),” he finally said, “A purity of heart. Yet surely you didn’t come to confession to brag about your own holiness.”

Your voice trembled, barely leaving your mouth, “Of course not.”

His smile was dripping off his tone, “What is thy sin?”

You closed your eyes, imagining it were any other priest, pushing through with gritted teeth, “I have been assaulted by the Devil in more…potent ways than ever.”

“Are these the Devil’s sins, then?” He interrupted.

You paused, caught off guard, “No, Father, they are mine.”

“Then claim them, (Y/N),” his voice was a whisper, cajoling, tender, “Tell me that you have committed sins…and have taken great pleasure in them.”

Your mind felt hazy, “I have allowed my mind to be filled with perverted fantasies against a fellow Christian.”

“How often, my child, have you dwelt on these fantasies?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his tone was…desperate, “Months. I have welcomed sin into my heart and mind, and have let my imagination run wild.”

“Where does it run to, (Y/N)?”

“Lusts of the flesh,” you dodged coyly, “unbecoming to a young woman of faith.”

“Speak them,” he commanded.

You nearly jumped at the sudden change, “Father Langdon?”

“Tell me of your lusts,” he demanded again.

Your voice was so tiny, your heart leaped into your throat, “I don’t think-“

“Sin can only be absolved once it is fully confessed, (Y/N),” you heard him moving, his form leaning closer to the window, “Tell me of your desires. This fellow Christian, as you call them, what do you think of them doing when your imagination takes hold? Are their lips upon yours? Delighting in the sweetness of your mouth with a chaste kiss? Or are they hungry? Ravenous as their tongue dances over yours? Do they bite your lips, drawing beads of blood before licking them clean?”

Your core throbbed at his words. Your mouth hung agape, shallow breaths escaping.

“Are you naked?” Even the way he spoke the word was sinful, “Have your clothes been discarded on the floor in a heap, leaving your sensitive, aching pussy exposed to their lustful eyes?”

Every inch of your flesh was hot and riddled with goosebumps. Not simply from what he said, but how it was as if he’d plucked your own thoughts from your mind and was reading them aloud.

“Are you against the wall?” He stifled a little moan, “On your knees? Spread out on silk sheets, a delicious morsel all for the taking, for devouring? Tell me, (Y/N),” it was like his voice was right next to your ear, “tell me everything that’s in that slutty imagination of yours. Confess every sinful perversion you’ve dreamt about committing,” he chuckled darkly, “the ones you long to have committed against you.”

Your fingers slipped under your panties as if of their own will. You massaged your pulsing clit, your folds already wet with desire.

He continued in agonizing detail, his cadence falling into a steady rhythm to which you pumped two fingers in and out of yourself, biting your lip to detain your ardent whimpers.

“Do you feel their teeth on your soft skin, greedy fingers toying with your hard nipples? Where is their tongue? Is it licking your wetness, spreading it over your lips, or teasing your needy slit? Are their lips gently wrapping around your clit and sucking? Can you hear,” he paused on each word, tasting them, “the slick…wet…sounds? The growling need as they gorge themselves on your perfect, sweet, delectable cunt?”

Hot shame flooded you, but you kept going…faster, harder. What would those poor congregants think if they knew you were making such a filthy scene for the priest?And yet that made your desire grow.

“Can you feel them slide up your body, their hard cock pressing against your soaked thighs? Can you taste yourself on their lips? Do you taste good, (Y/N)?”

An obscene noise almost freed itself from your throat, but you placed a hand over your mouth.

“Do you wrap your legs around their waist like an eager little slut? Are you begging, whining to have them slam their thick, throbbing cock into your pussy over and over again until you cum all over it, screaming?”

His voice was thick with need, “Do you feel yourself stretching around them, taking in every inch? Do you like being filled?” He paused, “Answer me, little lamb.”

Barely trusting your own voice, you whispered, “Yes, Father Langdon.”

You could hear the satisfied grin behind his words, “Do you want to be fucked aggressively? Do you want me to use you as my plaything, my own personal whore to pound my cock into? Do you want to please me?”

You felt yourself climbing towards the edge, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You sounded so pathetic, “Father Langdon,”

He changed pace, as if sensing your closeness; gently guiding you towards your orgasm, “How about I take you slowly? Whisper blasphemies in your ear while I slip in and out of your yearning pussy? Tell you how you feel like Heaven around my dick. Worship you like an idol, sweet hymns escaping my throat in my moans because you feel so fucking good. My ultimate praise spilling out inside you, anointing you as mine.”

The word was like a signal, releasing your tension as you rode the high. As you came down, your breathing slowed, and your mind gained back enough sense to panic over whether or not anyone outside had heard.

“Does that sound like your fantasies, (Y/N)?” He sounded so casual now, returned to his calm, disciplined self.

“Yes, Father Langdon,” you muttered breathlessly.

“Are you sated?”

You removed your fingers from your panties, quickly searching your bag for a tissue to wipe them on, your face painted red, “For the moment, yet they seem stronger than ever.”

He laughed, “Such is the nature of man. Perhaps we could discuss your sins in further detail at a later time.”

You froze at the implication, and scorned how it made a new wave of excitement crash over you.

“Find a way to…absolve them in a more tangible way.”

You sniffled, “Yes, Father Langdon.”

There was a knowing, excited lilt to his voice, “Peace be with you, (Y/N).”

“And with you also,” you returned quickly, stepping outside the booth and trying to hurry outside in the most inconspicuous way possible. Perhaps it was your own anxiety, but you were sure a few squinting glares were thrown your way.

You had never felt more out of place than at Mass the following Sunday from your sinful encounter at confession. Every utterance of holy Scripture burned on your tongue, the wine of communion soured in your stomach. Even your outfit, a draped white blouse and black skirt with heels felt more scandalous today despite wearing it hundreds of times before. you sat at the end of your usual pew, legs pressed together tightly and hands folded demurely in front of you. Your eyes darted everywhere, terrified that somehow the other congregants could read your mind; because all you could think about was Father Langdon’s dulcet voice as he uttered deliciously sinful words right inside the four walls of the holy of holies. Without a single touch, he’d ravaged you so completely. The hymns you sang erupted from constricted breath as you imagined him slipping his elegant fingers between your legs and bringing you to ungodly bliss. You felt hot to the touch beneath the glass stares of saints and angels. You were thankful another priest delivered the sermon today; grateful how utterly boring he was, how completely dispassionate. One of Langdon’s beautiful orations would have been a detriment to your ability to stay calm. When the service ended, you gathered your purse and hurried towards the exit, desperate to feel the chilly winter breeze.

“(Y/N)!” The voice stopped you in your tracks, “Always a pleasure to see you,” Langdon commented sincerely, walking up to you with his hand outstretched for a friendly greeting. You didn’t accept it, and words spilled out of your mouth hastily, “Father Langdon, I want to apologize for what happened at my confession. I should not have let myself give into temptation so eagerly, and in my sin I led you astray. I pray you can forgive me.”

He cocked his head, offering you a playful smile and sympathetic eyes, “Oh, (Y/N), there’s nothing to forgive.”

Your lips parted in surprise, “But…”

He motioned for you to walk with him a bit further away from the crowd, which you did reluctantly, “Human nature is such a fickle beast. If you tell it not to do something, it desires it all the more. The fruit never looked so appetizing until it was forbidden,” he looked at you, “Have you ever read Oscar Wilde, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head.

“Brilliant writer,” he stopped, your eyes meeting, “Perhaps my most favorite quote from him is, “The only way to get rid of temptation, is to yield to it.” I must confess that quote alone influences more of my theology than some parts of Scripture,” he admitted sheepishly before giving a wink, “But that can be our little secret.”

Heat bloomed in your chest, “I’m afraid I don’t really understand.”

He spoke with his hand, the member gliding gracefully through the air, “Consider what happened at your confession as an extreme form of penance. Getting the sin out of your system, freeing the mind,” he smiled, “As long as it is taboo, it dominates your mind, but when you are allowed expression, you dominate it.”

As irregular as it was, you took some comfort in the holy man’s explanation. Though, the ugly head of jealousy peeked through as you thought of anyone else being “helped” by him, “Has your extreme form of penance worked before?”

His eyes lazily rolled over your figure, smile turning impish, “Are you asking whether or not I’ve made other congregates cum like you?”

Hearing him say it aloud, even so intimately quiet, caused familiar panic to jolt through you; along with a sharp pang of desire.

“No,” he chuckled, “My methods would have me removed from the Church.”

Confused, you tucked your hair behind your ear, “Then why…?”

“Why you?” He finished for you, gazing at you with an admiring look, “You’re different, (Y/N). There’s an aura about you, I don’t see any pretense in your faith. You’re…genuine,” he stepped closer, sending a trail of goosebumps down your spine, “Hypocrisy is such a rampant plague among the faithful. In you I see the true image of God. Divinity given human hands.”

You blushed further, if it were possible, “I’ve never seen myself as anything special like that.”

He took your hand between his, the comforting warmth intoxicating, “Then you do your Creator a great disservice, for he made you with a crown upon your head,” he looked away for the first time, as if embarrassed, “And, well, I was also purging my own sins in that confessional.”

Your heart jumped, “I didn’t think you thought of me in that way.”

He laughed, low and gentle, “I’ve thought of you in every way, (Y/N).”

You had a flashing thought of him pinning you against the pew, but threw it away. “And if you are willing,” he continued, letting go of your hand, leaving a trace of abandonment, “I’d like to make good on my offer for us to discuss this in more detail.”

Your mind demanded you say no. What kind of woman were you to be alone with the priest you lusted over?

“How so?”

He held his hands behind him, “Are you free on Friday night by any chance?”

You knew it was the decent thing to say no, “Yes, I am.”

“How about dinner at around 6-6:30? I promise I’m just as good a cook as I am a preacher.”

You nodded, “That sounds great.”

He looked so pleased, “Wonderful, let me tell you my address.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror of your bathroom for an hour; your makeup, your dress, your hair, even practicing how you would say hello. “Good evening, Father,” you smiled at your reflection before shaking your head. Too formal. You gave a toothy grin, nearly bouncing on your heels, “Hi! Thanks for inviting me.” You groaned, cringing. Too peppy. You took in a deep breath and said pleasantly, “Hi, Father Langdon. Thank you for inviting me.” You sighed, frustrated with yourself, and shut off the light, heading into your room. You grabbed your purse and keys, taking one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You didn’t know what to expect his house to look like, but it didn’t come as a surprise as you pulled into the driveway. It was a modern Victorian home, painted black. A small garage sat adjacent to a set of stairs leading to the door underneath an archway. Three windows gazed over the garage in a semicircle overlook, the glass giving a peek inside. It wasn’t gaudy in any way, but it was most certainly gothic set against the starry sky. You locked your car and cautiously mounted the steps, ringing the silver button doorbell; a pleasant chime emanating from inside. After a few moments, the door opened; Father Langdon’s gracious tone welcoming you. “Hello, (Y/N).” He was everything you expected from the feet up, black boots and pants; but it shifted once your eyes drew up. He wore a black shirt, sleeves reaching to his wrists, a normal solid collar around his neck, but his shoulders and collar bones were exposed through mesh, stopping just above his chest. His smile was genuine, under eyes framed in black eyeshadow. He was a vision of something so feminine, yet radiating with power. You were hit with a bout of shock. A strange feeling formed in your chest, confusion, desire, fear all swirling together. You mumbled a hello under your breath. “I’m so glad to see you.” You managed a squeaky, “You too.” He stepped back, extending his arm, “Please come in.” You stepped inside the little parlor. Cylindrical lights hung from the ceiling, bathing the cream walls in a gentle hue; an ornate black staircase leading to the second floor. “You look beautiful,” he commented looking over your simple dress. You breathed for what felt like the first time since seeing him, “Thank you. You look…different.” He chuckled, “I like playing with expectations,” he quirked an eyebrow, “Do you like it?” You gulped, “I do, it looks…” you held yourself back from saying ‘sexy’, “Good.” He smirked, as if reading your thoughts, and invited you to the dining room. Dinner went by normally. You talked about life. How you were fairing in college, how your family was doing back home, etc. He never went into too much detail about himself, even when you would ask. He only told you that he had moved to the city after his ailing grandmother died and that he’d been a minister for five years. Nothing else, he was strangely guarded for how sociable you knew him to be at the Cathedral. Afterward, you’d moved to a small sitting room, where he poured two glasses of wine. He handed you the glass and settled into the leather chair, taking a sip, “So, tell me, if we may get down to business, pardon the expression,” he laughed, “what attracts you to me?” You stopped, your lips parted over the rim of your glass. He grinned sympathetically, “Come, there really is no point in being coy about it. And that is why we’re here,” he sipped before setting it on a small table next to him, “To exorcise your demons, so to speak.” You swallowed a too big gulp of the wine before nervously fingering the stem, “You’re…very attractive, charismatic, charming,” you glanced up at him, “you command a room.” He hummed, intertwining his fingers, “Have you often had attractions to authority figures in your life?” You thought of your youth minister back in 9th grade. He was a cute, recent seminary graduate; you became his favorite student to gain his attention. Guys your age just didn’t appeal to you all that much. “Some.” “Do you like being dominated?” He asked it so brazenly, it hit you like a slap to the face. You shrugged, stuttering, “I…I guess I have a proclivity to…follow the rules.” His voice became a commanding growl, his controlled expression never shifting, “That’s not what I asked.” Heavy heat settled between your legs at his tone; you yipped a response, like following an order, “I like the idea of it.” His hand rested under his chin, his eyes burning with curiosity, “Why? Is it being helpless?” You shook your head, your voice maintaining a tinny as you confessed, “Not helpless. Just the idea of being corrupted,” you looked him in the eyes, “Of an attractive older man taking an innocent and dirtying me up. Letting go of certain standards that keep me so rigid.” A low, pleased note rumbled behind his smirk, “Are you a virgin, (Y/N)?” You cleared your throat, “Technically I suppose, I’ve never been…penetrated.” your face was red, “I let one guy finger me, but it was kinda uncomfortable.” He tilted his head, waiting for you to explain. “Like, he was kinda rough and he sorta blamed me for not cumming.” That made his lip curl into a snarl, “What a stupid, useless boy.” Your pulse pounded in your ears, breathing becoming shallow. He remained a vision of calm confidence. He gripped both arms of his chair, leaning closer, something dark coloring his eyes, “What makes you wet?” A spear of cold shock and yearning pierced your core, “I’m sorry?” His smile grew, slightly shaking his head, as if at a young child’s antics. He leaned back, looking like a king on his throne, “What makes,” his tone was languid, “your gorgeous little pussy hungry for a big cock to pin you down and own you?” You released an audible gasp, your body trembling. You swallowed hard, “What you just said.” He nodded, “Dirty words. What else?” You felt entranced, his icy eyes stripping away your inhibitions, “Things that are forbidden, things that would make me seem like a whore.” “Hmmm…” He bit his lower lip, moving his hand; his fingers practically danced from his chest to just above his belt, “It’s quite forbidden for anyone, let alone a priest, to touch themselves while another looks on.” You watched his hand glide to his crotch, palming the growing bulge, licking your lips at his tiny groans of pleasure as he played; his knuckles were white, gripping the leather, “Do you like that?” You nodded, a bit too eagerly. He giggled, a breathy evil sound, “What’s the dirtiest thing you can think to do right now?” Your voice was thick, “Crawl on my hands and knees and grind on your cock.” He let out another chuckle as he bit his lip again, his hand palming the black fabric of his pants faster, needing more friction, “You naughty little sinner, wanting to seduce a man of the cloth like that,” he sneered, “Shame on you.” You set your glass on a counter, dropping to your knees and crawling to him slowly, your eyes wide and reverent. He held out his hand to beckon you, and you sat on his lap; releasing a choked moan as his bulge bucked against your wet slit through your panties. Your hips rocked slowly, earning you a needy groan from him; his hands grabbing your ass, “Oh, temptress, what man beset by you could resist?” He pulled you closer, making you move a little faster. His lips left wet kisses on your neck, your skin soft and flushed under the attention of his mouth. “The things I want to do to you,” he growled. His tongue licked a stripe from the curve of your neck to your ear, softly biting it, “Will you let me purge you, (Y/N)? Will you let me cleanse you of all these filthy lusts?” Your hands clutched his shirt, your head thrown back; you intended to grind out every frustrating urge he made you feel. Without warning, his hand was at your throat; gripping just tight enough to cause your eyes to be taken over by fear, then lust. “You’re such a pretty little lamb,” he muttered, his other hand sliding up your body to cup your breast, “straying from the flock of the faithful to play with the wolves,” he chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the now hardened nipple through the dress fabric, “Such a bad little saint. But you crave the wolf, don’t you?” His lips hovered just above yours, “You want to feel that wild, uncontrollable passion, you want to be left gasping, aching, the wolf’s fang marks left in your skin. So when your good shepherd finds you, you’ve been dirtied, defiled,” he tightened his grasp, “claimed.” You moved your hand to brush over his clothed cock. He wrenched you closer, your warm breath passing between your lips, “And even when you’re back safe and sound in your little pen, you’ll be thinking about the wolf and how fucking good he felt. Because no one has ever touched you like he did.” You looked like a frightened deer, doe eyes filled with desire. “Get on the floor.” You slipped off of him, your bare knees hitting the carpet. “Take out my cock,” he commanded. You undid his belt and pulled down his pants, freeing him. Hunger overtook you as you wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently. He gasped, “Eager little slut.” You massaged his balls, taking more of him into your mouth. He groaned, fingers threading through your hair. You gripped his thighs, gagging as he hit the back of your throat. He moaned and began to roll his hips, fucking his cock in and out of your mouth. Drool poured down his shaft as you moaned gargled noises around his thickness. Tears pricked at your eyes as you pulled back, his dick making a wet pop as it exited your mouth; a strand of saliva still connecting your bottom lip to his head, now red and leaking. He caressed your cheek as you dragged your tongue over each ridge, lapping up his precum. “Come here,” his raspy voice demanded.

You propped yourself on his knees, your eyes falling to his full, beautiful lips. He tipped your chin with his forefinger, “Oh, would you like a kiss?”

You responded quietly, “Please?”

He cupped the back of your head, bringing your foreheads together, your lips centimeters apart, “How adorable, my little lamb,” he tugged a fistful of your hair, “Maybe once you’ve earned it.” His gaze focused on your glossy mouth, “Although,” he leaned in to graze your bottom lip with his tongue, “I’d love to taste your adoration for my big cock in your pretty mouth.” He pulled back with a tiny smirk, “But patience is a virtue.” He delivered a swift, hard slap to your ass, your tiny yelp making his cock jerk. “Follow me.” Father Langdon’s bedroom was as sleek and dark as the rest of his décor; but the two main attractions were the three overlook windows you had noticed outside, and the large bed draped in red silk sheets and a black leather bed frame; two decorative pikes on either side of the headboard. You couldn’t help but eye the bed with curiosity, finding that the priest hid darker undertones of his personality in his most intimate places. “Take off your dress,” he ordered. You nearly jumped, turning around to see him taking three red cords from a little black box. He paused, meeting your eyes when you hesitated. He smiled gently, raising an eyebrow, “Please?” You stripped slowly, letting the dress pool around your feet. He looked you over. “Oh, (Y/N),” he responded breathlessly, twirling the red ties between his graceful fingers, “Heaven couldn’t create a more perfect form.” You blushed, your thighs were slick with arousal as he beckoned you forward; laying the ties neatly over the box. His fingers lazily dragged down your bare stomach before slipping just inside your panties, “How about I relieve some of your tension while you strip off my clothes.” You bit your lip, starting to unbutton his shirt; your blood boiling in anticipation. He moaned as his finger slipped inside your heat, his fingertip lazily rubbing your clit in slow, wide circles. Your knees nearly buckled beneath you; desperate noises breathily rising from your throat. Your hips moved with his rhythm, slipping his shirt off to hang from his forearms. Your hands softly drifted over his toned chest and broad shoulders, nails digging in when his fingers explored your dripping core more enthusiastically. He growled impatiently, snatching his fingers away to remove his shirt. He slid down, wrapping his arms under your thighs; forcing you to hold onto him tightly as he carried you to the windows, pinning you against the middle pane. “I can see practically the whole neighborhood from this view, (Y/N),” he latched onto your neck, sucking and licking up to your ear, “Let’s give any nosy neighbors a show.” His fingers slipped your panties off, throwing them aside. The cold glass stung your bare skin, the scandalous nature of your position pouring hot, depraved passion into your veins. His thumb pressed into your clit with fast, flicking strokes while he moved two fingers in and out of you with unrelenting speed. “I’ve dreamt about this sexy, virgin pussy since I met you,” he groaned in your ear, “I’ve stroked this thick, hungry cock for you every. single. night,” he repositioned to get a better grip on your ass, “Sometimes I’d stare out from the pulpit and fantasize about sinking my throbbing dick into you right there at the altar,” he sighed out a dark chuckle, “Fucking you before God and everyone. Making vile worship pour from your lips and gush around me.” He snarled, curling his fingers inside you, “God, you make me so fucking hard.” You clung desperately, unable to keep up with him; his bulge shoved tightly back into his pants reaching to grind just outside your entrance. “You like knowing that, don’t you?” He angled his head to lift up your bra with his teeth, his tongue seeking to violate your hardened nipples, “You like knowing that while I’m up there preaching about purity and chastity,” he surrounded your nipple with his lips and sucked, making a filthy wet sound as he released it, “That all I can imagine is pounding your hot, horny little hole until I cum inside you.” You choked out a pathetic whine, “Michael, just fuck me already!” It was jarring how quickly he could stop. His eyes glared into yours, soaked fingers pulling out to roughly grasp your chin, “What did you call me?” Terror spread in your chest, “I-I-“ “No,” he pressed down on your bottom lip with his thumb, “I didn’t ask for an explanation,” his expression was aflame, “I asked what you just called me.” You trembled. “Say it.” “Michael,” you answered weakly. “Dear little lamb,” he shook his head disappointedly, “I show you an ounce of mercy, and you think you can use my name so casually, simply command me to do your bidding?” He leaned in, his whispered voice like a razor, “In this room, there is only one god; and he demands respect.” You gulped, “I’m sorry, Father Langdon.” “Oh no, you’ve lost that privilege,” he moved his hand to grip the nape of your neck, “You may call me sir, until I decide you’ve been good enough. Is that clear?” There was no hesitation, “Yes, sir.” He hummed, “Now, I’m a merciful god, my little saint,” he applied a tighter pressure, “but you’ll have to pay due penance if you want me to bury this thick cock in your cunt and save you from your greediness.” Your cold terror was melted, warm lust still coating his bulge. “Get on the bed and face the left.” He dropped you to your feet and watched you crawl onto the mattress, sitting perfectly still on your knees. He brought over one of the red cords, “Hold out your wrists.” You obeyed silently, and he tied you to the pike, not too tightly, but enough to remind you that you were at his mercy. He walked back around to the other side, taking his sweet time; making you wait, your humiliation exposed to Heaven and his eyes alone. You felt like you should be ashamed, insulted at how he debased you. But it only made the need in your pussy throb harder. The palm of his hand connected with your skin, the sting making your cry out in surprise as you tried to bite back a delighted smile. “Stick out that perfect ass.” You leaned over a little farther, presenting before him. You could feel the mattress buckle as he climbed up behind you, pulling your thighs closer and spreading your legs, one hand firmly on your ass, and the other stretched underneath to cup your breast. You barely had time to react to his warm palm on your skin before he dragged his tongue up the full length of your opening. You gasped, gripping at the cord. He lavished every inch of your needy, saturate flesh with long, deep stripes; devouring you viciously, your cries of pleasure riling him up. You heard the rustling of fabric as he slipped off his pants, fully freeing himself. You sighed as he rubbed his pulsing head up and down your slit, bathing it in your cum. “You taste delicious, my little lamb,” he slid his body over yours, his chest against your back; you barely restrained yourself from bucking against his hard cock pressed between your cheeks. “Are you sorry for taking my name in vain?” He nuzzled next to your ear. “Yes, sir,” you breathed. “Do you feel that hard dick?” He thrusted slightly, parting your cheeks further, “Do you want to feel like a really dirty whore?” Shakily, you answered, “Yes, sir.” His smile brushed against your neck, “Would you like it if I put my cock in your perfect ass?” Your mind reeled. It was filthy, wrong, sinful- “Yes, sir, please do that.” He kissed your shoulder, “Say it, (Y/N), we’re well past guarded language.” You almost screamed, begging him, “Please, sir, put your fucking cock in my ass.” He seemed to genuinely pause, taking in your words, before laughing, “Ask and ye shall receive.” He kissed down your spine, sitting up on his knees and positioning his cock right over you, taking fingers full of your juices and slathering them into your asshole, gently massaging it open. You braced yourself against the pike, already aching at the touch. You felt his soaked head stretching you out; you groaned, a slight burning sensation quickly replaced by delicious agony as he gently worked himself in, telling you how tight and perfect you were. He built up a slow, steady rhythm, which you took notice of with a pang of endearment. He wrapped his arm around your waist, using his other hand to caress your hair, “You’re being such a good girl,” he hummed, “such a good, filthy girl.” He pulled out slowly, your body feeling empty, less grounded to reality when he did. You felt the bed shift again as he stood to retrieve the two other ties. When he was in front of you, you looked up at him under innocent, submissive eyes, your lips red and swollen from your biting them so hard. He smiled, tucking messy, sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, “Come up here.” You furrowed your brows, but lifted yourself up to meet him. He pulled you close, breathing out, “You earned this.” He brought your lips together, oddly chaste; simply delighting in your kiss, the feel of your mouths meeting in a covenant of longing. He released the kiss, rubbing your cheek with his thumb, “Are you ready to cum?” You nodded, “Yes, sir.” “Michael,” he corrected, “I want you to be able to scream my name.” He untied your hands, “Lay on your back for me and stretch out your arms.” Once you had, he tied both wrists; one to each pike, and your ankles together flat against the bed so you were in the position of a crucifix. He straddled you, running his hands all over your body, “My beautiful, spotless lamb.” He parted your thighs once more, indulging in the way your tied legs kept you tightly around him as he entered you. It wasn’t long before he decided to forego the gentleness and began pounding into you against the bed, much to your relief. His cock slipped in and out at a frantic pace, the sound of your hips crashing together, wetness dripping between them, your skin slick with sweat and arousal. You were whining pathetically, wishing you could dig your nails into his back with each thrust hitting the exact perfect spot. He pulled your hair back to expose your neck, biting hard enough to puncture the skin. You cried out his name, like honey on your tongue, your breath catching in your throat, as you drenched his thick length. He lapped up the droplets of blood and around the forming bruise, moaning into the open wounds as your fluids soaked his mouth and cock. He hooked his arms under your legs as you fell back, gasping from your pleasure. “Look at me,” he snarled pounding harder, even faster strokes. You met his gaze, your eyes glassy and inundated with pleasure while his burned with dark lust; his chest and throat rumbled with deep, gravelly growls as he came. He roared like an animal, baring his teeth and sinking them into your neck once more. You squealed at the flash of pain, but welcomed his warm wet tongue soothing the abused skin. You moved your hips in tandem, slowly now, your slick heat mixing, each movement massaging it further into you. He took two fingers and gathered your cum, holding it front of you. “Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spread his messy fingers over your tongue. “Hoc est enim corpus meum, this is my body,” he whispered before placing it on his own tongue and taking you in a passionate kiss. He pulled out, chest heaving deep breaths as he untied you. Your arms immediately wrapped around him, leaving reverent kisses on his skin; he did nothing to admonish your eager affection. You lay there exhausted, wordless. He finally gazed into your eyes, kissing your forehead. “I was right. You did feel like Heaven.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x fem!reader #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse au #priest!michael

268 notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 5 years

Text

Because I want to, Michael, I want you

Pairing : Michael Langdon x female reader

Summary : You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Michael, though he is unsure why. But he finds that he needs you, more than he’s ever needed anything in his life.

A/N : Something I came up with after that bullshit finale, so it takes place during and after 8x10, with of course my twist on events. It’s not my favorite thing I’ve written, but I think it might’ve turned out okay. I hope y’all like it!? Please let me know! And check out my masterlist for fics, other stuff, current fics, and updates!

Enjoy!

Note : Flashback of what occurred during the coven battle is in italics.

Warnings : Blood, gore, coven death, reader kills a witch, Michael kills the rest, breathplay, explicit language, explicit smut, blowjob, handjob, blood kink, soft daddy Michael. I think that about covers it.

You can barely stand upright, burnt heels singed to the gaping leather, stockings ripped, dress trashed to purple scraps around your ankles. The knife is clasped tightly in your white knuckle grasp, her warm blood seeping around the edges of the gaps in your fingers. The outpost is quiet, remains of fires crackling, burning deaths wafting into every wall, each surface it can reach. You stand at the opposite end of the hallway, red headed witch bleeding out near your feet, her blond sister witch beside her. All this is like some fucked up painting in a museum, hung for this new world to gasp and wonder over whatever is left.

~*~ You're surprised you are, a mere human doing what she did after not knowing a man for that long, a man who isn't a man, but who had simply intimidated, mocked her in a half-assed interview for some rumored sanctuary. And is in fact the Anti-Christ, a war having broke out moments ago with witches. You? You survived the poison apples by not indulging in them. You hid out in your room, afraid of Mead and Venable, that they were hunting you for execution.

You had planned to seek Langdon out for help, that is until you heard him over talking with Mead, a dead Venable feet from them. Things became clear you were probably going to befall a fate worse than some tainted fruit. Then the women came, leaving you to choose a side, one which should have been so obvious. But as you removed yourself from the corner you had been cowering behind, you found yourself decided. The women below, they had thought you under power, afraid, manipulated into staying by Langdon on the staircase landing.

He too, wasn't trusting you. It all went so fast that you couldn't comprehend your own emotions, Dinah being slaughtered, warnings of you to come down the stairs and to safety, protection, before the robotic leader you had known for years exploded in front of your very eyes, sending you and Langdon to the ground below. You couldn't recover as he. You laid in your own blood, howling in pain, not able to get up before he was gunned down and stunned. By the time you gathered yourself to peel off the floor, the witch that shot Langdon, was obliterated, her head in pieces.

You felt immense relief that he was alive.

Still, it wasn't near enough for him to catch your honesty, appreciating it. But he had a mission, a vengeance, things you could see in his eyes. He bypassed you and took the flights to get upstairs. You limped your way around the bodies, heart pumping so fast you felt your ribs beginning a steady shred, pressure squeezing you vice, leaving you whimpering for breath. Around the corner you went, following the corridor, stopping short behind Coco, who stood motionless.

There in front, Langdon stood in his torn glory, heavily breathing, knife plunged deep into his back, the witch who killed Dinah behind, her heart in his copper coated hand. You couldn't feel anything, anything you should've felt right then. It was all muddled in your head, basing down to carnal need. A throb settled inside you as he closed his lips around the organ, juice of her blood soaking his mouth. He's fucked out when he turns back to Coco, licking his lips, eyes darting to you in almost an amused challenge.

Coco was out of your sights with a literal crack, her neck snapped, body thudding on the floor. Your jaw dropped, posture erect. You couldn't move, couldn't think. You didn't break Langdon's dark gaze, shrouded by rushing anger, thick power. Even lust.

Every fucking sin you were taught would send you straight to hell. But he is hell's guardian. This will be his kingdom. And you, why weren't you afraid? Then? Now?

You would have died by his hand, no fight, no regrets. If he could not see you wanted to stay with him, maybe he wasn't what that group of witches had said. He surprised you, lifting a bloody finger to his lips to signal your silence. You were left alone after that. Meant to hide, something, you assumed.

That gnawing feeling inside your stomach didn't even dare let you entertain his wishes. You were holding your skirts up and running, faster, quicker, hearing voices grow louder. You knew which corridors went where, how to get places. There had been more gray in you than purple. The smeared trail of blood had to be where the other witches vanished to with what they were going to do.

Your chest had threatened you, blood churning so fast you felt that desperate ache to survive, work your damaged and bruised legs harder, get them to stop something you felt coming like a second instinct you never knew you possessed. Each turn you made, corners recognized, open and unknown if you can't make it. The witches seemed so far away, that is.... You heard the defeated cries of the blonde and her heels clicking on the floor. Langdon's deep voice is battled wits with hers, a change in the air.

The knife came straight for you, the woman gaining possession of it, as you came in behind her, her hand holding it above her heart, speech intensifying. You lost all rationality, catching a gaping gaze of Langdon's when you launched your body into the witch, wrapping your arms around her waist and managing to maneuver your hand first onto the dagger's handle, knocking hers out of the way. You didn't know what was happening, just that you couldn't let her hurt Langdon, you couldn't bear what would happen if she succeeded. Screams haunted your ear drums to the point they wanted to bust, that red headed witch snapping her fingers and sending the bottom of your gown a blaze. The lights began to flicker, hallway darkening, glowing, something you can't ever forget.

You threw your weight into the wall, not ceasing your hold on the bitch, hoping she'd go up with you. You were going to die for Langdon and you were fucking ready. You didn't need to know why you felt this strongly, how you knew what you did. Your muscles lashed at you, fire licking your flesh hot, burning, causing your eyes to water. Spinning. It all had spun, dizzying you till it seemed like time stopped.

A loud scream pierced the air and then the witch was off you, in the arms of Langdon, her eyes wide as he raised the knife, strong hand smashed across her jaw, at his mercy. The redhead moved beside you, your attention gone, fire burnt out on your blackened dress end. Your breath stuttered past your lips, head snapping to the left to see Mallory, floating in a tub of water, blood pouring from her mouth. You weren't sure what to do, turning back to freeze, watching Langdon snarl into the witch's face, plunging the silver into her jugular with a delicious grin. Your audible scream combined with Mallory's.

Langdon's eyes turned hollow, confused and it dawned on you that it wasn't over yet. Langdon is holding out his hand to you, starting to move in synch, the red head raising her hand to end you, those flames kissed your legs in pinches so sharp you couldn't say anything, only do, you hurtled yourself into the tub and grabbed Mallory's arm, dragging her out before she can go under, both of you colliding and sliding across the floor in a violent slam. She's hitting you, her nails biting into your shoulder blades, your bodies rolling, broken, fighting for your leading sides, your hearts. All these things you never had thought about, knowledge, movements, you're owning them and overpowering her, your thumb pressing into her bloody wound, forgetting you knew her, your mission to keep Langdon here with you, safe, okay, all that matters. Her choices are trying to quake yours down.

You won't let it happen. You had raised backwards, ready to finish and go down fighting for him, but it isn't so. You're gripped by your hair and drug backwards, a force slammed you into the wall, the red witch shook with her vile tongue. Her threats of your imminent, brutal death a promised stamp. It doesn't matter. You smirk in her face, Michael having gotten to Mallory in your distraction, her body destroyed and dropped like a rag doll run over.

He pockets the wet hair from her dead fingers, aiming to accomplish her, but she's drawn quick. He's down the hall and on his back, held. The old woman turned back to you, backhanding you across the face, her gloved hand curling around your neck. She won't have long, Langdon's fuel charging from her pathetic tricks. "I will see to it that you burn with him, you little bitch."

Your oxygen is was fading, the room swirling around in bits. You wanted to make it, be there to help him, be with him. The ginger can cause trouble. She hurt him. Her people.

He's your people, whether he wants it or not. This notion stunned you into full blown leadership, your fist freed, doubling into her stomach to get her back, scrambling upright for the knife, nearly about to vomit as you hit the floor-knees first. Your charred dress is smoking once more, essence of time running thin. Your head pounded, heart stopped, you spun around and thrust your hands up, catching her under her breast, knife sliding right in her, her blood pouring out around your fingers when you twist, yanking it back out. You can't breathe, adrenaline smothering you, eyes glazed over watching the red witch fall down into a pool of blood next to her sister.

It saddened you, but you sigh out, smoke scraping scratching at your throat. He's going to be okay. Whatever happens to you, it won't matter.

~*~

Your pulse is jammed into your throat, your sweaty palms pressed behind you into the wall. You just helped Langdon and killed someone. Three people, in addition to everyone dead from the apples, that you knew, have been slain. And you want one thing and one thing only. Starting to level up from your bent position is when you see him standing on the other side of the dead leaders, ruined clothing, covered in injury and blood.

His blue eyes are black lakes now, snapping bands around their natural color. You lick your lips, his feet carrying him in a swift swipe to you that you don't have another second to blink before he's got his gut covered hand around your throat, making his own set of marks, rings pressing painfully into your windpipe. He's not glaring through you but at you, seeing you. It steals your nerves, an emotion knocking you on your already bruised ass. Michael's eyes widen, that blue being let back in like the sunrise over the pale blue clouds.

His mouth trembles, caked blood out of place. The way he crumbles in front of you, exhaustion seeping into his every pore is so damned painful that your eyes glisten with tears. Bolder, you reach out, consequences can get fucked. He's spitting out his words without pause, stepping far out of your reach, his authoritatively-deep voice, jagged, cracked, broken. He just won and yet, he's defeated.

"Why would you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you!? They almost killed you! You don't count in this, you were supposed to die like the rest!"

He's unraveling and leaving you, taking the stairs in long leaps that knot you full of tension keeping up. Your arrival finds him cradling the head of Mead, rocking back and forth. He was worth saving, every bit. That clasps onto you and holds tight, giving you strength to descend to him, your hand reaching out to lay on his shoulder, no hesitation. He snatches your wrist, turning to you with a face full of tears.

He can barely see through them, his hand trying to keep from trembling, the other still holding her. How can anyone think someone in this much pain is some kind of monster? There's more man in him in this moment for you than you've seen in the entirety of humanity. You don't feel any more wasted sadness on the massacred battle that occurred moments beforehand. Langdon is your priority.

Despite his eerily present danger, you lower yourself onto the step above him, resting your arms atop his shoulders, your voice quiet, watery to match his pain. His hurt is tearing you up. There's more connection here than you've accounted for.

"Maybe we can fix her?" You try.

There's a raised brow, a spark of hope that follows a cruel sneer, Michael removing himself from you so fast you have to grip the rails beside you to keep from tumbling down the rest of the stairs. Michael is pacing, hauntingly quiet, like a beast building to pounce. His chest exhales roughly when he turns, stroking the cheeks of Mead's face with his thumbs.

"How dare you think you can touch me, can even talk about her! You're just some pathetic human that entered a battle she knew nothing of. You think I want to walk this world with just you? If I wish it I can have you at my feet, begging for your worthless, useless life."

It isn't surprising to you, not even remotely hurtful. There's a brief sting that you combat, but you shake your head, raising onto your tired heels, kicking them off, sidestepping the destruction to move a little closer to him.

"I think you would have already, but you didn't. You were surprised someone actually risked themselves for you, knowing nothing about you, just some half-assed witches words about how you're evil." Your boldness, strong holding words has Michael's mouth parting, stunned for a searching line of words. "What I see," You continue. "is someone that lost who he planned to walk this new world with, now he's alone and needs someone. Just like me."

Your are confident, aired of your confession and need for him. It wasn't just a carnal have to have. There's more. It's almost as if the ground below this bunker roars to life at your recognition of that. It's still waiting, however, on Langdon.

The man who is staring straight at you, water deep eyes struggling to take in your features. He's like a spooked animal. You can't imagine what he's been through in what life he must've had before. So you follow your heart, hand squirming to go on the railing. You move, inch more and more to him.

He doesn't stop you, unlocking your unsteady heartbeat. More, another foot. One step. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

You're directly in front of him, that radiating darkness, sense of loss. It's smashing head on into you, beckoning you into giving yourself over to what you have needed your whole life. With a battered, blood dried hand, you reach to cup Michael's cheek, your thumb wiping away some of the stain there.

"Things aren't hopeless. And they aren't over." You take a much needed deep breath, dragging your hands to your sides, your body getting you perfectly still on your knees in front of him. You don't look away. "I'll be glad to sit at your table and serve you."

New age time seems non-existent. You await him to process, that heartfelt look that crosses him making a smile paint your lips. Your jumping pulse side by sides your eardrums, nothing else there. He makes dramatic steps to situate Mead's head somewhere away, your pose remaining. When his designer boots stop in front of you, his tone is raw, yet commanding, achingly pleading all in one.

"Get on your feet, you don't belong down there, Y/N." A change, use of your first name.

You rise to him, taking his offered hands that slide up your arms, gripping at your shoulders, squeezing your neck, settling on holding onto your face, leaning in to rest his forehead close to yours. You're both crying again, this sheer simple contact enough to set things off. You fingers reach for the ends of his hair, twirling the silky strands. There's a dash of madness, primal possessiveness you see in the blue of his eyes, curling around his dilated pupils. It's in the air on target, your grip pulling on his locks.

"Whatever you need, my King," You whisper, touches teasing one another, exploring, breaths mingling, jumbled.

"Michael, please. That's all I need you to call me. Please, Y/N." He repeats himself in a whine, one you abide.

You're nodding against his red mouth, his gentle grip no longer around, caving in, denying only to reward. He wraps his hand around your throat and drags you past strewn bodies and blood, both of you falling together beside the crimson firelight, covered in death and desire. He's mumbling in a foreign tongue, language you're translating through the throb between your legs, the having to be taken. Michael spins your body around it's slammed into the wall beside the staircase, his hand bringing down your dress's top to bear the corset bra you wear. His fingers slither into it, drawing your back to him, his nose inhaling a path down between your shoulder blades, tongue following.

He makes quick work of getting the thing unlaced with expertise, your breasts heaving on the uptake, free. You turn on your own accord, gripping him by the back of his neck and lowering his mouth over one stiffening peak, fisting his hair, your dress around your waist. The dynamic shift is shared, welcomed to Michael Langdon's wet appetite. His pain fades to you, that compassion bubbling inside him, opening things he long thought he no longer could feel. Here, in all this blood red, the dead, Michael lays you down in the floor, watching you in wonder as you roll, running a hand through your hair, heading down his body like a Queen devil.

You lift your hands to open his belt, undoing his pants, unzipping him ever so slowly. He's swollen beneath the tight black briefs, your palm edging the outline of him. He should be worshipped, taken care of. You reach into his underwear and take him out, admiring the thick length, smooth and hot in your hand. His stomach is trembling in harsh flexes of air, observing you, waiting.

You stand up, shimmying your burnt stockings down, kicking them near the headless witch, your dress next, leaving you in your white silk panties, which have very clearly soaked through. You can't help it, you run your fingers up the slit, pushing them in, circling, blood that was on your hand, some piecing off onto the fabric. Michael wets his lips, toe of his boot sliding up and down your ankle, making your legs spread. You tease him some more, then let him in on your plans.

"I want you to come inside my mouth, let me give you this, Michael, please."

You are grounding yourself, breasts smashed into the dirty floor, easing your hands into his pants to tug them past his knees, his cock freed entirely for you. Rutting back up his body, chest to chest, you your nipples elated at the stimulation of his velvet jacket. Your mouth whimpers to me, pleas. "Let me, Michael. Please, please." You arch back into a sharp breath. "Please."

The showman persona cannot cooperate. Michael is a man, you are a woman. Good and evil, right or wrong, it all falls away. He's nodding, tears prickling the edge of his lids, falling out onto his cheeks. You kiss each one softly, then you're letting him rest a hand in your hair, making your way in appreciative kisses across his body, nuzzling his shirt above his navel a little, your tongue licking his salty skin, making his cock twitch.

"That's it, let it all fall away," You say, tongue drenching your hand.

You stroke him, give him a few minutes of light pleasure to get used to. Watching him relax into the floor, body tense in a way that isn't running, fear. He's driven, here. That's your next moment. Grinning softly, your hazy drop between his legs is your home.

Your tongue is licking at thin air, hungry for him, mouth watering, saliva pooling. He runs his hands through your hair, both there now. And that is when you let your tongue lick the underside of his cock, following, finalizing your lips to closing around the head, greedily lapping at the creamy white pre-cum. A sight forever branded into your brain is Michael's head tossing back, eyes closing, brows pinching together as if he were in pain, his plump lips open. You work your way to the other side, leaving a sticky trail in your wake, taking a deep breath and sliding him into your mouth, slowly beginning to bob your head in a soaking wet rhythm.

He lets out a perfect cry, moaning into the explosive air, grab tightening in your hair. His eyes are fluttering, fighting with watching, feeling. Your wet mouth is lewd, noisily getting inches more of him each time you come back. He's deep in the back of your throat on this upstroke, his hips starting to thrust off the cool flooring, turning to the shape of your hot mouth, cock dragging along the walls of your cheeks. Spit is splashing out around your mouth, squishing rudely with each suck.

You love this. Your eyes are overflowing with tears but you push past it, your hands sliding up and under Michael's layers to run your nails across his nipples, flicking, testing. His cock swells in your throat and your cunt pulsates, making you grind over the floor, raising yourself to watch Michael. His eyelids open, eyes darting all over the room, breaths popping out in trembles, mouth huffing, his tongue licking at nothing, seeking. He's coming. You brace yourself and try to relax your muscles, opening up to let him slide down until your nose is nearing the small base of curls around him.

Michael lets one hand slap into the floor with a smacking boom, the other jerking on your hair in a twisting wrap, then he's bowing up, hips stilling, moaning like he's humming, the warmth spurting from his cock and across your tongue, into your throat. You keep licking at him, sucking, going for it with all you've got in you to ride him out. He's quiet again, trying to find his bearings and you pop off him, mouth red and swollen, spit shining. You settle back on your haunches, genuinely soft in your smile at him. Michael sits to face you, knees to yours, bewildered by your bravery.

He doesn't understand why you care so much about him beyond sucking him off. You nearly died by the fucking filthy coven, for him. You know what he is, some of what he is supposed to be, but as he looks at you, he feels like he's just Michael again. And the carnal pleasures make so much more sense to him. He wants your cunt around him, milking him.

He wants /you/.

Michael is lightening, hands shocking your system when they massage your breasts, pushing them together till it hurt.

"Do you need me to fuck you, Y/N?" His ringed finger dances along your naked knee, up your thigh.

"I need you to do everything to me, Michael." Is your immediate answer.

Settled. Sealed. Promised. Grateful.

The fire crackles to combine with Michael wrapping an arm around your back, fingertips strumming goosebumps across your flushed skin. You lower to the mess below, legs widening, swaying, the temperature blowing across your covered pussy. Michael tickles a digit across the sopping front, licking his teeth.

"A cunt bathed in cream, all because it craves me." His skin has a shine to it when he removes his finger from your fabric, pressing it around his lips as if your arousal is chapstick.

You shift, skin painted with wounds, blood of others, and red in pleasure. You can picture Michael's marks decorating you, canvas complete. He rids himself of his tarnished jacket and shirts, leaving his firm chest in your sights. It's healed over the bullets that shed themselves, the stab wound closed, smooth, golden cream beneath. You want to feel more of him on you.

He's draping himself over you like your angel, hair curtaining your face, silk against your neck. His hands prop him up, giving you leverage to help him get his boots off and then his pants and the briefs. He's beautiful, crafted by no human but some other realm. You can't hold back, you kiss his mouth, biting, tasting blood not your own, but his, the witch's. Michael has your panties off in your distraction, speaking hotly into your mouth.

"Once I shove this," He grips himself, power dripping. "inside your body," he topples to press his chest to your breasts, crushing them deliciously. "you're mine. do you understand that?"

"I've been yours since you set foot in front of me." You dig your hands into his ass cheeks, ushering him forward.

There's nothing on this polluted earth between you two anymore. Michael dips his hips, cock dragging through your wetness, pressing sharply at your opening, one ring clad hand holding your knee back, rings glinting from the firelight. He angles, then snaps himself forward and fills you full, your back dragging across the floor, mouth letting out a scream, all the while you both keep looking at one another. You hold to him, marking him yourself, a prisoner to his chains, riding, feeling, his thrusts so deep inside you that it hurts. You're so fucking wet that it's dribbling from you like honey, hot and sticky, filtering out around Michael's cock each time he moves.

"Fucking drenched, so delicious." He's muttering, lost.

You wrap your other leg around his waist, his deep set pace getting that spongey texture caught each slick rub his cock makes passing it, pressing into it, the pre-cum meshing from his cock, messy all over your walls. You're about to come and you might black out. Tensing automatically, Michael feels this, reaching to grip your neck, requesting, already closing. You give him that same desperate need he gave you and that is all it takes. Michael closes his fingers around your throat, rings pressing in.

He gives harshly, fucking into you until you're winded, reaching to claw at his wrist, licking your lips for a kiss of want. His cock swells inside your cunt, his hand letting air flow back into your lungs, that he steals off your lips, sealing his mouth to yours. It's brief, passionate, then over as you're begging, revealing.

"I'm coming, please, oh please, Michael, come with me?"

"You want my seed buried in your womb, all over your fucking cunt?" His voice is raspy, fucked to the cliff's edge.

You get a few pathetic mhm-hmm's and then your clit earns a press from his thumb, causing you to sheathe him in your cum, all over his cock as you cry out, reaching your orgasm. Your eyes blur with tears, you cling to Michael, his own release exploding inside you, warm and welcomed. You keep him close, his tears finally overpowering him. The situation, the need, being the only two left here, all that he's been through.

"T-thank you." He quivers, burying his face into your neck.

You comb back his sweaty hair, kissing his temple. "I'm with you now, okay?"

He moves back a little, still close, eyes shining. He looks so innocent, unsure. "Why?"

"Because I want to, Michael, I want you."

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon #ahs fanfiction #ahs apocalypse fanfiction #ahs apocalypse #ahs: apocalypse #ahsfx #ahs8 #american horror story #ahs

772 notes · View notes

sighingsiren-tales · 6 years

Text

BTS as mythical creatures

A/N: So basically, this is how I imagined each member of BTS as a supernatural creature. Now each small little scenario has a different theme; There is smut, fluff, angst, thriller, literally everything and anything you could think of. I hope you enjoy it~

~Kae

Seokjin~Werewolf

You were absolutely taken aback when you felt Jin dragging you by your arm out into the woods adjacent to the boat house that he insisted you leave.

“Jin, what the hell is your problem?” You squealed, attempting to free your hand from his grip.

His grip only seemed to tighten, as his nails took on a terrifying form, glinting in the light dangerously as they elongated well past his fingertips. You desperately grabbed at your own wrist, attempting to free yourself from his grip and get Seokjin off of you.

“Jin, let me go!” You squealed as he dragged you further into the woods.

His skin felt as if it was rising in temperature by the second, his hand quickly becoming too hot for you to touch and quickly becoming painful for your wrist.

“Jin, you’re hurting my wrist” you whispered, terrified of the slight transformations he was going through.

“I do not like other men around you like that” He finally spoke, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Jin, wha-”

“Did you see how he was rubbing against you like that? He’s doing it to get on my fucking nerves” his words that cut off your own were anger fueled but his lower, more carnal and oh so slow.

“And you, you let a disgusting omega rub against you like that. You have an alpha right here and you choose that?”.

His questions were not making any sense and you were quickly becoming petrified as you reached the clearing of the forest. That was when Jin let go of your hand and you watched him walk to the middle of the clearing, his skin bathing in the light of the full moon.

Just as you were about to run from him, his voice stopped you.

“I need for you to listen to me” He spoke, his voice darker and much more grave than you ever heard it before although it still showed remnants of the Seokjin you knew.

“Jin..what is wrong with you?” You stuttered, his animilatic nails now visible in the light of the moon.

“Listen” he growled, his voice taking on such a tone of finality that you bowed your head and stood down, a reaction you have never had before.

You heard the slow crunch of leaves that indicated that he was approaching you.

“You’re such a good mate princess, you know exactly when to stand down” he praised, his voice back to the gentle soothing tones that you knew to be Seokjin.

“But” he paused, rushing forward and clasping your face within his hands causing you to let out a slight shriek.

“I’m going to show you something and what I need from you is to be open and please, please, do not run from me” his voice was so low, almost vulnerable in a way that you had never heard from Jin.

You wanted to reach forward and comfort him, the need almost overwhelming you.

“Jin, what is going on? I-”

“Please” He spoke in a breath, kissing the skin of your forehead quickly before you could say much else before returning to look in your eyes.

“Just promise you won’t run, Please” His pleas were hitting you exactly where he wanted them too and you found yourself nodding, although you weren’t too sure you could keep the promise.

Jin nodded curtly before walking back into the clearing. He watched you with weary eyes as he let the unbuttoned shirt hanging off of his broad shoulders billow around his frame as his skin began to steam. The steam was rising off of him in waves, his teeth elongating to canines as his nails elongated even more. You couldn’t stop the shaky hand that came up to cover your mouth in absolute terror as you watched his skin steam, his eyes darkening considerably at your reaction. There was a sickening crack in the air followed by the loud, horrible roar of what could only be described as an animal. The steam of smoke around Jin then blew towards you powerfully, the heat and force of it causing you to drop to the forest floor and shield yourself, screwing your eyes shut tightly. The smoke disappeared in a gust of cool air, the winds so powerful that leaves from both the ground and the trees whipped around you.You looked up almost immediately only to find Jin gone. In his place, casting a considerable shadow and giving off a terrifying aura was a huge, pitch black wolf. The wolf’s fur was dark, just like Jin’s natural hair color and it stood at 10 feet easily. The fur looked as soft and silky as you knew Jin’s hair to be but those same soft and silky stands now covered the body of this huge animal. You found yourself absolutely petrified as it bared it’s teeth slightly, taking a step towards you. You pushed yourself up against a tree trunk as the wolf approached you, one large paw on front of the other very carefully, the leaves crunching underneath his paws loudly. All you could do was keep repeating Jin’s words to you: “please don’t run”. The creature stopped in front of you kneeling down slowly and laying his head at your feet like an obedient guard dog. Looking into its eyes, you found the fear dissipating slowly; Those beautiful dark soulful eyes were unmistakably Seokjin’s. You found yourself reaching forward to touch it, the wolf raising its head a bit and perking its ears up. Your fingers grazed the fur right above it’s nose and the wolf nuzzled into your touch.

“Jin?” You whispered.

The wolf nodded its large head curtly, scooting forward and nudging your back with its cold wet nose, signaling for your to get up. You did so cautiously, never once taking your eyes away from Jin. The wolf then moved to sit in front of the tree, laying down and then jerking its head from you to it side. You walked over to the wolf, kneeling down and laying against it, causing the wolf to nuzzle it’s head into your lap, softly. You sighed as you tentatively placed a hand on Jin’s head, scratching it. Pushing your head back against the wolf’s soft fur you sighed.

You were in love with a goddamn werewolf. Didn’t you know how to pick em?

Yoongi~Angel

You pushed your head back against the uncomfortable hospital bed, tears slipping out of the corner of your eyes as you recollected your memories of the day before. You and your best friend had been driving home from a party, blasting music and singing the lyrics horribly. The last thing you remembered clearly was a bright light and a loud honk; The next thing you knew, you were pulling both you and your best friend from the broken window of your flipped car. Chae, thankfully, still had a pulse but she was out cold, unresponsive even when the EMT’s arrived. You held Chae close, telling her it was going to be alright as the EMTs who were on the scene in 10 minutes rushed over to you and her. You heard screams and people attempting to tend to your wounds but that was all white noise at the moment.The EMT’s had to fight tooth and nail to get you away from Chae and tend to your own injuries. This whole ordeal, of course, wasn’t her fault or yours.The man who had hit you both had been a drunk driver, a scenario you played over and over in your head on the way to the hospital in the back of an ambulance. The sirens were loud, the EMTs were fussy and borderline annoying but all you could think of was Chae. They told you that you had fractured ribs and a broken arm when you awoke a day later but you couldn’t care less as you laid in a hospital room adjacent to the one your best friend was in. You were terrified when you began to think of how you would tell your boyfriend, Yoongi. Did he even know? Did someone tell him already? Had he tried calling you? He was probably worried sick but there was no way to contact him; your phone was broken beyond repair in the crash.

“You’re something else my love” you heard a familiar deep drawl from a corner of the room.

Your head perked up as you saw the aforementioned man watching you from a chair pushed up against the wall by the door of the room. You struggled to push yourself up, your broken arm and two fractured ribs making it near impossible to do so.

“Stay down baby. You’re hurt” he spoke, raising from his seat and walking over to you slowly.

You vaguely wondered how he had gotten in the hospital, let alone your room given than visitation hours were over but you found the tears doubling in quantity as soon as you heard those words. You had heard those words so many times in the past 48 hours and almost each time it was related to you trying to help Chae. You soon began sobbing, throwing your good arm over your eyes, which did not help your ribs at all. You could practically feel Yoongi’s gaze on you and you felt all the more pathetic and useless. Sighing deeply, Yoongi sat on the bed next to you very carefully.

“Chas’s okay love” He murmured, stroking your hair softly,

“No, you don’t know that” you choked out, pausing to compose yourself.

“And even if you did” You paused to sniffle.

“I need to see that for myself” you finished weakly.

At your words, Yoongi moved your arm from your face, brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I can show you that she’s okay” He spoke softly.

You perked your head up at his words, not entirely sure if they’re true or not, but the promise of it was enough.

“I need for you not to question why though” he spoke softly, his eyes meeting yours in a rare display of uncertainty.

Wanting to see your best friend, no matter the costs, you nodded as much as you could. Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling once before standing to his feet. He carefully placed his arms under your mid back and under the back of your knees.

“Yoongi, I’m not supposed to move” you protested weakly.

Yoongi let out a snort followed by a non-malicious “shut up” leaving his lips. The moment he picked you up, you scrunch your eyes tightly only to feel absolutely no pain. You look down at yourself almost comically before looking at Yoongi with the utmost surprise. Yoongi was sprouting two large, gorgeous wings from his back, the soft white glow around them making you seem hesitant and unworthy of his presence. The man you loved was now bathed in an ethereal, soft white glow. The feathers seemed so soft and delicate, the layered white feathers fading into a beautiful soft gray around the edges and towards the bottom. It seemed to somehow go perfectly with the light bleached tones of his hair.

“Yoongi…” you were at a lost for words, the man before you was transforming into what you assumed an angel would look like.

“Not quite” He spoke, as if reading your thoughts.

“If I had my headdress and proper attire, I’d be in my natural form”.

You looked at his face in surprise, his eyes holding a tenderness that his smile mimicked.

“Come on, you wanted to see Chae right?” He asked, walking straight towards the door.

At the mention of your best friend you nodding, holding tight onto his shoulder as he grabbed the doorknob. He walked out into the hall before you could protest. As you walked out into the hall, secured in Yoongi’s arms, you were absolutely terrified that one of the nurses would make him put you down. However, no one stopped you or even looked in your direction causing you to look at him in confusion.

“They can’t see me or you unless I want them to my love” He spoke just as he walked over to the adjacent hospital room and carefully open the door.

Once we were inside her room, he brought me over to Chae, hovering above her so that I could see her. I almost wanted to reach out and touch her but she looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb her.

“She’s fine. She’s out cold right now, but in a few days she should be fine. I’m not her guardian angel though, so I don’t know all the specifics”.

You watched Chae intently, finally contented with knowing that she was resting and that she would be okay. However, the moment her promised safety registered, so did Yoongi’s words.

“Guardian angel? You can’t be serious” you whispered as he sat you down on his lap, holding you as one would a baby.

“Yes because the large wings in my back weren’t a clear indication” he sassed, rolling his eyes playfully.

Without thinking, you brought your fingertips up to brush against the surface of his wings. They were so satisfying to touch; so soft and plush and comforting.

“Who’s guardian angel are you?” You asked quietly causing him to let a small smirk cross his features.

He leaned down, giving your forehead a quick peck before staring into your eyes lovingly.

“You’re not this stupid are you?” He teased.

Your eyes widened almost comically.

“Mine?” You asked in reference to who’s guardian angel he was.

He nodded, stroking your hair back away from your face as he spoke.

“I was there when your brother cut your hair when you were 3. I was there when you broke your elbow when you were 8. I was there when you started middle school. I was there for prom and graduation” he spoke, rattling off major events of your life.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you realized that you man you loved had watched over you and kept you safe all your life. You nuzzled further into his chest, relishing in both his scent and company.

Thank god for Yoongi.

Hoseok~Vampire

“Princess”.

You raised your head from your place on Hoseok’s bed,turning over on your side to face him.

“Yes?” You asked, the vision of him half naked and next to you causing you to smile upon the meeting of your eyes.

His face was grim though, unusually so, as he watched your face with a new emotion lingering in his eyes.

“I need to tell you something” he murmured as he brushed your hair away from your face, placing a sweet and short kiss on your lips.

You brought your hands up to cup his face as you savored the kiss. He pulled away from you, looking you over once before speaking.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you”.

His words shell shocked you. He what? You felt a heartfelt smile spread across your lips at his declaration. Every single second of the 4 years you had spent with Hoseok was absolute bliss and it was euphoria to know that he felt the same as you.

“Hoseok” you began, before he held up a finger, signaling for you to let him finish.

Despite the declaration he still seemed gravely serious, which worried you. You let the sheets pool around your lap as you sat up straight, awaiting his explanation.

“I want you in my life, permanently. I never once imagined that as an immortal being I could have ever felt this way but I don’t tire of you and I don’t think I ever will” His words were passionate but the sweet passion was off put by the word ‘immortal’.

What was he talking about? You felt your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you watched him move from his place on the bed and walk over towards the open French doors than led to the balcony.

“Do you love me?” He asked quietly.

You stood almost immediately, completely comfortable in your nudity around him.

“Of course I do. Hoseok, what is going on?” You questioned.

In that moment, Hoseok turned slightly but rather than him who caught your attention it was something else; Something sharp that was the color of snow white pearls caught the moonlight’s glow that cast a slight glint. It was a few seconds before you had realized exactly what it was that had caught your attention: Fangs. You watched in slight horror as Hoseok’s eye color changed from their deep coffee brown to a bright red; the brown lightening to a hypnotizing red color that was comparable to only rubies. You felt his name leave your lips in a broken whisper as he moved forward.

“I love you. But I don’t want to hide myself from you anymore” he spoke gently, his hand reaching out to touch yours.

You barely made a move as his hand enclosed your own, his skin as cold as ice. You felt a slight shock at freezing temperature his body was emanating. Here was the man you loved before you in a state that you only saw in novels and movies. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re not scared?” He questioned.

You were unable to produce words and simply let your fingertips drag across his ice cold toned chest as if physically proving to yourself that this was real. Looking up into his ruby colored eyes you felt the shock slowly seep into your bones.

“This is real?” You whispered.

He nodded, pulling you to him.

“I’d never hurt you” he murmured against your hair and in that moment, you knew that regardless of what he was, he was Hoseok first.

“I need for you to know what forever entails” he spoke softly, his words chosen carefully although you were pretty sure what he was asking you.

“You want me to...become like you, right?” You whispered against his chest.

He sensed your hesitation and spoke once more.

“Go ahead, say it” he urged.

“Vampire” You barely got out.

A smirk crossed his lips at the way you said his classification.

“Think of it as a supernatural marriage proposal” he spoke, beaming as he let his arms loop around your waist loosely.

Your gaze was fixated on his and, no matter the color, or the now pale complexion he never exhibited before, you still saw the same Hoseok that was laying in bed next to you. Letting your head drop against his chest you spoke.

“Just because I say yes doesn’t mean I don’t want a real proposal” you joked, nuzzling into his chest.

He laughed lightly, kissing your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I knew I picked the right one”.

Namjoon~Grim Reaper/Angel of Death

“Joon” You spoke the man's nickname in a whisper, unable to say anything else as you watched him break down in front of you.

“I can’t” he choked out, dropping to the dirt floor right underneath the nearby oak tree.

You dropped your bag immediately, rushing over to his side and planting yourself in the dirt so that you could hold him. You heard him cry quietly he nuzzled into your neck and you only held him as tight as you could.

“I don’t know why I was chosen to do this” he mumbled into your neck.

You felt your heart cracking painfully at his cries and you could only stroke his hair lovingly as you sung a song he once sang to you when you were angry.

“You have no idea what it’s like to have to be surrounded by so much death all the time. I know that it’s my duty to this world and the next but God does it hurt” he barely got out the last few words and, although you didn’t totally understand the meaning of his words you held him tight underneath the oak tree.

Just as the first few drops of rain in the humid July air began to fall you pulled him away from the crook of your neck so you could look him squarely in the eye.

“Listen to me. I know that things are hard and I won’t pretend that I know what you’re talking about but I know that you are a strong, kind, caring and resilient man Namjoon�� you spoke softly, brushing away the strands of sandy blonde hair away from his forehead.

He let his head drop as he spoke.

“Spirit” he whispered.

You paused, the rain beginning to get heavier.

“What?” You questioned him.

“You said man. I’m not a man” he uttered, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

You blinked once, twice, trying to process what he said without labeling him as crazy. Standing to his feet, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to stand with him.

“I don’t expect you to believe me. So I’m going to show you” Within a moment, he held your hand tighter and in a flash of bright air and an awkward sensation, you were now standing in a room.

You looked over at Namjoon in surprise, only to see him fitted in a head to toe black suit, one definitive of mourning. Looking down at yourself, the jeans and crop top you had on earlier had vanished and you were now outfitted in a strapless, ankle length black dress. He met your eyes for a moment only to look towards the scene at the side of the room, which you took no notice of until now. There was an elderly man surrounded by multiple people. There was an elderly woman next to him, holding his hand tightly as she smiled fondly at the man lying in bed, neatly tucked in. There was a middle aged man and woman, each accompanied by their spouses and with each couple, a child. The man looked between the people surrounding him and smiled. I could hear the elderly woman next to him telling him that it’s okay and that she would meet him on the other side whilst the middle aged woman and man told him that they were thankful for him. What I was obviously watching was a family; The father, the mother, their son, their daughter, their spouses and their grandchildren. The man whispered a last “I love you” before his eyes closed. The elderly woman next to him began to sob quietly as the people surrounding the man looked on with the same depressive aura and energy.

“Now watch” Namjoon commanded.

Within a moment, it seemed as if I was surrounded by rolls of films that were much larger than I. They ran past Namjoon and I with lightning speed. I watched the birth of a child, I watched as he learned to ride a bike, I watched as he entered school, I watched as he completed school, I watched him get his first job, his wife and then onto kids, a career and a home; I was watching the life of a man a barely knew. I watched the satisfying and fulfilling life that he lived and I felt tears well in my eyes for the family that wept his departure. As the roll of film came to a close, the elderly man was now approaching Namjoon a contented smile on his face, outfitted in a glowing white suit. Namjoon’s face broke out into a smile as he approached the man with open arms. The two embraced as I vaguely heard Namjoon tell him“ you lived well”. Within seconds, Namjoon waves his hand over nothing and with each passing second, a staircase appeared. The staircase was grand, the railings made of sparkling gold, the top covered with wispy clouds and the bright light of what I assumed was the beyond. Namjoon motioned him forward with a warm “Welcome home”. The man ascended the stairs slowly, letting his finger tips graze the railings as if he was savoring the moment. As he ascended, each stair disappeared one by one until the light blocked him from view. When the staircase was gone, Namjoon grabbed my hand again and suddenly, we were back underneath the oak tree, this time sunlight peeking through both the leaves and light rain.

“I know that it is only apart of life and that everyone has to go sometime, but the initial grief left behind is sometimes too much to bear. Seeing them ascend to eternal happiness always makes it better though” he spoke softly, giving you a warm smile that allowed his dimples to come through.

You felt the tears that stained your cheeks wash away in the light rainfall but you could barely speak after that encounter. This was what Namjoon was? You could barely believe it but you had seen it for yourself with your own two eyes.

“You are the only human who’s soul I don’t want to collect. I want you to live on in eternal happiness yes, but the world will be much darker without you” He spoke, his tender words warming your heart as you looked over at him directly.

Spirit or not, he was still the same dorky boy that did his famous “seaweed” dance to make you smile during thunderstorms. In a display of affection you tackled him in a hug, the force throwing him to the ground which made you thankful for being back in your jeans and crop top once more. He was utterly surprised but still let his arm curl around you nonetheless.

“You’re not scared of me?” He asked timidly.

You pulled back from the hug and pulled him to you with a kiss. You could feel his hesitation but it took him only mere moments before he tangled his hand in your hair and kissed you back. Regardless of what he was, you knew that first and foremost Namjoon would always be Namjoon. After all, Angels of death were still Angels.

Jimin~Incubus

You laid on Jimin’s sweaty chest, your body still reeling from the mind blowing orgasm he gave you. Your thighs trembled and you still felt him between your legs although he was nowhere near there right now. He sighed, lighting a cigarette as he leaned back against the headboard.

“You’re getting me into trouble baby” he spoke softly, in a tone he rarely used with you.

You looked up at him with a devious glint in your eyes.

“Yeah? How?” You asked, rolling over on your stomach so that you would watch the living work of art that was Park Jimin.

“Because” he paused to let out a cloud of smoke from his lungs.

“You’re too good” he sighed dramatically.

You giggled letting your fingers trail down his chest slowly, assuming that he was referring to how good you were in bed.

“Since when has that ever been an issue?” You asked, intrigued.

“For my kind, it is” he spoke somberly, causing you to perk up.

“Your kind?” You parroted causing him to nod as he narrowed his eyes and blew out another cloud of smoke.

“I’ve had sex with plenty of women around of world and I can tell you that I have never once felt the need to stay like I do with you” he confessed, brushing his dark colored mane back and away from his face.

You leaned up letting out a small, affectionate “aw” before you kissed his plush lips softly. He growled into the kiss, deep in his throat, before he flipped you over, pinning your hands down by the sides of your head as he hovered over you.

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about” His voice darker than you had ever heard it before.

You raised an eyebrow at his antics despite the vaguely sexual position.

“Jimin what-” He didn’t even let you finish your sentence as he ground into your open legs causing you to whine at the sensation.

“Even the way you say my name. Everything about you makes you unique. You’re the only woman that I have never tired of. I could fuck you day and night, every single second for the rest of my life and never get enough of you” he growled, looking straight into your eyes with a newfound level of passion.

“That means that you’re a sex addict Jimin, not that I’m unique” you half joked, hiding your bitterness.

His words hit your core hard but you had been fooled before with words of praise similar to Jimin’s before only to be cheated on. You didn’t want to put yourself in a position like that ever again.

“No” he spoke, his voice husky and raspy in a way you had never heard it before; It was only comparable to liquid sex.

“You don’t get it” just as those words left his mouth, his eyes blazed the color of the Egyptian pyramids, a vivid, gold that was drawing you in at a rapid rate.

You felt wetness pool between your thighs as well as thoughts that should have you blessed by a priest swarm your head. You watched as his canines elongated slightly before he dipped his head. You felt his hot breath on the crook of your neck and you couldn’t stop the effect that he was having on your body. Jimin always aroused you but right now, it was intensified to such an extent that it was unfathomable.

“Your kind gave us the name incubus-sex demon” you felt your eyes widen as he confessed what he truly was.

“And for all intents and purposes, I was addicted to sex and women” he continued, his words having an effect that was only slightly sobering due to the energy he was giving off right now.

“We typically go through periods of intense pain when we don’t have sex but the even with that curse, I want nothing but you. God had to have either made you just for me or just to spite me. Either way” He let the tip of his erection brush against your soaking wet folds before he pushed in with one, slow stoke.

“I want you and only you now. I don’t care about the pain, I’ll go through it just to have you all to myself” He groaned, dropping his head down to the crook of your neck as he gave a shallow thrust.

“No mortal man deserves what’s between your legs, you hear me?” He demanded, his sentence coming out in between choppy pants.

“Y-yes” You stuttered, barely able to form sentences

You had wanted to question him on his confession but the way that those golden colored irises were staring into yours, left you breathless in the best of ways. Letting your arms wrap around his back, your nails latching onto the skin there you joked: “I knew you fucked way too well to be a human”.

He chuckled, letting his lips enclose yours in a passionate kiss before he spoke again.

“From here on out, you’re my goddess. Mine to worship and mine to please” he declared gruffly, speeding up slightly as he demanded your agreement.

Given the position you were in, what were you to say? You quickly decided that he could explain himself further after you had both had your fill of each other. It wasn’t really a normal love story but it was yours to cherish. You now had a sex demon at your every beck and call; You guess it wasn’t all bad.

Taehyung~Demon

“How do you always find yourself in some type of trouble my love?” You heard a deep, sexy and familiar voice ask from a concealed corner of the alleyway.

The man who had a gun on you, demanding your purse turned to face the man who had made himself known only a few moments ago. He pointed his gun at Taehyung, causing tears to fill your vision almost immediately. No...he couldn’t shoot Taehyung. Not your fiancé. Not the love of your life

“Leave now” the man demanded of your fiancé.

You looked over at Taehyung, absolutely frozen in fear as you watched Taehyung step forward. His dark trench coat and dark turtle neck that molded to his form helped him blend into the night seamlessly and helped to intensify the terrifying energy he was giving off.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that” Taehyung spoke, stepping closer to both you and the robber.

The robber stepped forward, pointing the gun directly Taehyung’s chest although you could sense his hesitation; He obviously wasn’t used to anyone sticking around after he pointed a gun in their direction. The robber stepped closer to Taehyung demanding that he get the fuck out of there to which Taehyung simply shook his head. At that moment the robber fired the gun three times causing painful, agonizing screams to tear from your throat as you fully expected him to lose his life trying to save yours. However, Taehyung simply chuckled, looking down toward his shoes as he opened his palm and let small metal objects fall from his hand and onto the cold pavement. Taehyung had caught the bullets? You raised your hand to your mouth in fear and shock as you watched Taehyung raise his head, his eyes the color of fresh blood, a deep and damn near terrifying crimson.

“You’d think with all the trouble you people go through to keep these toys that would at least be any good at using them”.

You heard the robber whimper a weak “what the fuck?” As a dark, thick and dangerous black aura formed around Taehyung. Taehyung let the aura travel in front of him as he walked leisurely towards you with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. The aura grabbed the petty criminal by his neck, lifting him off the ground with ease as Taehyung reached you. He tucked a lock of stray hair behind your ear before leaning down and lifting you bridal style. His gaze shifted back to terrifying amusement almost as quickly as it shifted to concern.

“The only reason I’m abiding by this world’s ridiculous laws is because she still lives in it. Pray that I don’t find you in the after life” With those words uttered, the criminal was dropped to his knees in a sputtering, wheezing heap. Taehyung barely gave him another glance as he returned his attention to you.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe” he spoke tenderly.

Your shell shocked state didn’t wear off until after Taehyung had brought you into his mansion and ushered you into the living room.

“I assume you have questions” he spoke offhandedly as he retreated into the kitchen.

“How can you possibly explain the last hour to me?” You spoke, your voice low and astonished as he walked back into the room with a dark red drink in hand. He watched you, his eyes dancing in amusement as he leaned back into a large armchair.

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure that you didn’t think that the world you live in was the only one” he spoke, his eyes flashing crimson red for a moment as if to confirm his statement.

“What are you?” You whispered, although you weren’t so sure you could handle the answer.

Your fiancé leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he looked you over.

“Humans call us demons”.

As the last word that left his lips, you were nearly gasping for breath. A demon? The man you loved was a demon?

“Don’t misunderstand” he spoke up, sensing your fear.

“By some twisted fate or by the grace of God, although I don’t really care which, my feelings for you are real” he stood slowly, as not to scare you, setting the glass down on the coffee table and approaching you.

“I do love you babydoll” he spoke, the nickname conjuring up strong feelings as he let his fingers trail down your check lovingly.

Your head was spinning with thoughts of what you thought you knew and how much you actually knew. But there was one question that seemed to protrude above the rest and it sank your stomach for those words to even pass your lips.

“Would you ever kill me?”.

With a quick tilt of your head by way of his fingers, he looked you squarely in the eyes as he answered : “Never”. He inhaled sharply, letting his arms curl around your waist in a familiar gesture.

“I won’t lie to you, I’m a terrifying force of nature but, in the thousands of years that I’ve came to be, I’ve never felt anything remotely close to divine until I met you” he spoke tenderly, his voice lowering, his tone comparable to the ones he used in the bedroom as he pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your neck.

“I’m risking being an enemy of both heaven and hell, just to be able to call you mine” he confessed.

You knew of the lore and the folktales but your gut was telling you that Taehyung had the spirit of a man, regardless of where his soul belonged. You saw him at his worst, you had seen him at his best, you had seen him in states that no entity could mimic.

“Does this change how you feel about me?” He asked and you could practically feel the hesitation in his voice.

With a deep breath, you briefly went over the consequences before letting out a light and breathy “No”. His arms tightened around your waist as a smile began to spread across his lips.

“No?” He parroted.

“No” you confirmed.

He let his head dip smoothly and captured your lips on a kiss. Demon or not, You were by Taehyung’s side until the end. Nothing would change that

Jungkook~Siren

“Are you seriously upset about this?” Jungkook asked in an exasperated fashion.

“Jungkook, how do you think it makes me feel when you’re so secretive about things like this?” You asked, voicing your hurt and concern for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

He was stunned into silence as you threw your phone onto the bed in frustration.

“I’m trying to protect you!” He spoke in an exasperated fashion.

You didn’t answer right away, opting for silence as you chose the right words.

“Let me choose on what I want to protect myself from and what I don’t” You whispered, hoping that he would finally show you what he was hiding.

With a deep sigh he let out a low “fine”. You turned around in absolute shock, surprised that for the first time in years he would honor your request. He walked forward, and began to hum. Just from him humming, you felt my body relax almost instantaneously. You knew that Jungkook had a voice but from only that hum alone, you wanted to hear nothing more for the rest of your days. He paused after the first verse that he hummed, seemingly apprehensive but you couldn’t help but be entranced as his eyes changed from their dark, methodical, thoughtful brown to a bright and lovely shade of carnation pink.

“Now, I’m going to show you exactly why I didn’t show you this earlier” his words were darker than their normal cherry tone and it caught you off guard momentarily. You could only help but nod and watch as the man before you transformed from a shy boy into a confident man.

“Close your eyes” he commanded, his voice smooth as butter.

You did what he asked without hesitation. You could hear his footsteps retreat from room but you heard nothing more; Not a door opening, not stairs creaking, nothing.You couldn’t help but wonder where it was that he was going. After what seemed like hours, you heard the most beautiful, enchanting sound that you ever had the pleasure of gracing your ears. Without thought, you began to move blindly, following the sound as if you were a woman possessed. Your body was taking you through parts of the area that you had never been before. All you and your body knew was that you had to find the source of that wonderful sound. You walked for what seemed like forever until you finally found Jungkook, standing in the ocean adjacent to your shared beach house. You could see the whimsical color of his eyes and the angelic features of his face even from a distance. His sound wasn’t even in a language you understood but nonetheless, you found your body compelled to join him in the dark and dangerous waves of the shore. You were warned not to enter the sea after the sun had set, but the closer you had got to Jungkook, the more reckless you became. You kick your shoes off haphazardly onto the sand, eyes fixated on his shirtless form and the foreign words leaving his lips in such melodious notes. Next to go was your shirt; It was up and over your head immediately, leaving you in your bralette and jean shorts that barely covered your hips and ass. You found the speed with which your body sought after Jungkook increasing without reason. There was no other thought in your brain, no other want or need; All you wanted was Jungkook and not even the dangerous high tides that accompanied the full moon could stop you. You vaguely felt the chill of the water grace your skin but it didn’t register well enough for you to stop. All you could see was Jungkook although he never seemed close enough to you. It became harder to move your body and limbs through the waves as they increased in both height and strength, but you didn’t care. Nothing was too physically overpowering to keep you from Jungkook. Within moments, everything was brought to a screeching halt and you shivered, realizing that you were now in the sea up to your chin and you hadn't even realized. The water was up to Jungkook’s chest but he barely looked phased. He only watched you, the carnation pink of his eyes dissipating back into their beautiful brown.

“You know the Greek folktale of sirens luring men to their death, yes?” You could only weakly nod your head at his question; Your body seemed weak and still slightly under his influence.

“There were hardly any woman sailors, if any at the time,, you rarely hear of the male sirens but trust me” he leaned down, letting his lips linger near your ear as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you into his body.

“We exist my love”.

You barely had any strength left so you had no choice but to have Jungkook lift you from the sea, escorting you out of the water and back to the sandy safety of the shore. He propped you both up against a huge charcoal colored rock as he held you in the lap, waiting for you to regain your strength from the spell you were put under.

“Just now you weren’t able to resist coming out into dangerous waters because my voice led you to believe that whatever you were doing was far less attractive than what I wanted you to do” he explain, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Why would...why would you…” your voice trailed off, your strength returning to you at snail's pace as you tried to question why he would hide this from you.

“I wanted you to like me because you wanted to not just because I wanted you to. I wanted to give you that choice so that I could make you truly happy, if that’s what you wanted” he confessed shyly.

By those words alone, you knew that regardless of his Classification, the man before you was still the same Jeon Jungkook that you had fallen in love with.

You were barely able to whisper the phrase “I am happy” as you leaned your head against his chest.

“You are?” Jungkook asked, sounding incredibly surprised and absolutely astonished.

You nodded letting out a low “mhm” as you let Jungkook hold you under the light of the full moon.

2K notes · View notes