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kaizynofsickness · 23 days

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Wolf Sukuna x bunny reader

Synopsis: cuteness and innocence comes with a consequence when you're just such a petite small bunny doing dumb childish activities at the dead of night, happening to attract some wolf in need

Warning: female reader, predator and pray play, wolf Sukuna, bunny reader, oblivious reader, dacryphilla, public sex (in a forest), manhandling, fingering, reader squirting for the first time, unprotected sex, non-con, slight chasing goin' on, yandere-ish vibes (he find himself needing you), hardcore, breeding kink, slight spanking, lots of tail/ear pulling, degrading (dumb bunny/rabbit, whore bunny, slutty girl) praising too (good girl, atta girl, cutie), true form Sukuna, two cocks, double penetration (anal & cunt), SIZE DIF (he's 7'6", u cant beat him) Sukuna is a bit soft at the end. Sex with plot (?) MDNI, I will block you!!

A/N: this idea has been rotting me, does anyone else do hybrid Sukuna? Just me? Damn... My warning list is long ASF. Lazy/half proof read.

"one, two... Oh, three!" You count out how many flowers you could find buried in the thick layers of snow, picking out nearly dead ones. It was getting dark, yet you wanted a new collect of your 'snow flowers' that you did every time it snowed. You never missed a season since you were 17, so why start now at 20?

The flowers soon start to lessen and so does the light around the forest, leaving everything dark. A pout tugs at your lips as your bunny ears perk up, alert all the sudden as darkness consumes the night. Your eyes darted to every possible corner inside of the small snowy forest—maybe you were a tad bit scared of the dark, more like what hides inside of the shadows. You decide to call it quits, getting off of your knees and brushing the little bit of snow that was covering on your puffy white coat that was down to your thighs. You waddled around the snow, grabbing your new collection of flowers that survived with a smile.

You give the sun one more wave, as night fallen completely. You watch the light shrink until you really didn't wanna be in the dark no more, a little hop in your step as you trailed down the snowy path.

You had a right to fear what was happening in the darkness...

The wolf who had been watching you this whole time, grab-able bunny ears and a cute little cotton tail he could just yank you by wiggling around, how goofy yet cute you looked in that puffy coat, scarf over your face. He licked over his complex set of fangs, lust filled his thoughts and caused his dick to stiffen, all four eyes on you.

Ryomen Sukuna, he was called, steps out the shadows that you childishly feared, watching the small footprints and stepping over them with his own, seeing how he covers the whole space. You're so small. He could just—

He creeps up closer to you as you examine your flowers, lazily tossing the ones you don't like, cotton tail mindlessly twitching under that coat. He only had on an all black kimono with a rusted red color cloak over, walking in socks and flip flops, you dressed for some fashion show. You didn't even notice the sounds of breathing getting louder, nor did you hear the soft sounds of snow behind you getting crushed.

Dumb rabbit, he snickers to himself.

It took you a while to finally pick up something, your nose twitching and ears perking up again, bobbing slightly. You turn around to see not a soul behind you. You look in the trees; bare, nothing to hide. At least from what you can see. You shrug it off for now thinking it maybe was another bunny, or a birdie.

Sukuna wasn't even phased or worried you'd catch him, folding his four arms over his bulky build with confidence that he has hidden himself well enough to keep an eye on you. You, his future sex toy and minx.

You kept hearing the sounds more after that little conflict, turning around faster. This time, your eyebrows knitted together. You glance around again, gripping your flowers in your small hands. You turn around back to your destination, walking a bit faster.

He couldn't help but notice it. You might've noticed you were being watched or followed. He speeds up with you, matching your stride in the mask of the dark woods. The sounds mingle with yours, side eyeing every tree and bush to check anxiously. The idea of being followed made you pout.

The one time you stay out as the sun set, this happens.

You speed up a little more, sweating a bit even in the cold breeze and snow around. You now feel something dangerous near you, you can easily feel someone is near you, and it doesn't sit well. Like whoever—whatever is following you wants you to know that it's here. And oh, he does now want you to know, that fear makes you look so delicious, and not like he would normally look at prey.

He might wanna eat you in a whole different way that will last and effect you over and over.

"h-hey!" You meekly shout out, stuttering stupidly and taking a cowardice stance, looking so adorable scared, ears pressed down on your head. What were you shouting at? No idea. Where were you shouting to? Also no idea. You just wanted to hear someone.

You would be dumb to say 'is someone there' as there just had to be, eyes dewy as you scan the area. You grip your flowers. A faint growl, or laugh, echos from the forest behind the trees, somewhere in there. It sounded deep, grouchy, and... Soothing. Now you know someone is in there, your fear spikes. Someone was following you, just an innocent bunny with a passion for flowers in the snow.

"little bunny," a tall and dark figure emerges from the dark, and what immediately catches your attention is the four arms, many marks and odd lines across his face and wrist (what you can see) of the man.

Man? No, no, no. You gave it another look, seeing the bushy and huggable, large pink tail swooshing behind him, spiky ears at attention as four eyes gaze deep into you. The way he looks makes you shiver alone. You back away out of instinct, not that stupid to be oblivious to ths clear situation that this was a predator in front of you, you—the most common prey. His emotionless stare finally turns into something, something sinister. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow with his arms (all of them) folded over his chest.

Your eyes widen while you stare, your cotton tail being your biggest give away with how it trembles. You drop your flowers.

"strip." His voice booms in the night forest, keeping his mocking eyes on your fretful small figure.

What? Did he just— "huh...?" You manage to stagger out words. He told you to strip? You don't even know his name. You're an innocent rabbit, that's what you're known for, right? Why would he want to play around with you?

Sukuna finds no amusement in your questioning and why you're not moving that small body. "I said strip. Get naked."

You dumbfoundedly blink. "but I don't know y—a-ahhh!"

Your protest were cut off by the swift movement of one of his large hands going to yank you near him with your bunny ears, making them stand up. The sound you made cause his cock to stir and leak, never getting so turned on by any hybrid, let alone a weak bunny. But you were so cute. He bends down to your height, claws starting to tear your coats buttons. "I'm Sukuna, bunny. Let me know your name and let's get this out the way so I could start breeding you."

Breeding you? Him, breeding you? He was so tall and big compared to you, a dainty and petite little creature, and you never been bred before.

"n-no, let go of me!" You try to move your hands to grab his large ones tugging at your ears, but you forgot he has another pair of arms, one gripping both your wrist and using them to yank you into the cold snow. You wince when your bum makes contact with the cold ground, cotton tail buried into your coat and snow.

"I thought I asked for your name, dumb rabbit." He says while shredding your coat, making you gasp as your skin comes in contact with the cold airy snow, shivering.

You stutter out your name feebly over the feeling of the cold. He yanks off your legs warmers and scarf, at least neatly pulling down your panties and unclipping your bra. "Are you cold, cutie?" He whispers into your ear, pressing your body onto his heat. You nod into the strangers chest, feeling his clothes against your naked body.

Sukuna removes his cloak and wraps it around you, the thing like a blanket. You blink up at him, lashes coated with sweet unleashed tears. He chuckles at the sight of your dewy eyes, pouty soft lips and weak state. The power dynamic he feels... is so intoxicating. Oh, he's never been harder.

He abruptly flips you, making you go on all fours. If it wasn't for the cloak, you would've felt the cold snow way easier and it would hurt at some point. "Please... Let me go—" you get cut off again, squealing when he lifts your ass up by your cotton tail, you lower body off the ground while your top is still in contact. It stings slightly... "S-Sukuna!" You whimper.

Sukuna tilts his head at a 90 degree angel, examining your pussy after lifting his cloak up. "You don't mean it. You're a creamy mess. Please." He mocks you, landing a very aggressive hit on your right ass cheek. The impact immediately leaves large red handprint, making those unshed tears start to roll out your eyes. Sukuna smiles at the victory of making you start squealing and squirming.

He lets you go from your tail, knees landing on the ground with a thud. "You're such a whore bunny." He tsk. "Can you at least take two cocks?"

That wasn't a question. That was like a warning.

"t-two?" You stutter, baffled.

That's when you feel a small poke on your thigh and one near your exposed and wet pussy. Oh God, you knew he wasn't human, but is he even a hybrid? "Did I stutter? Who cares, you'll handle me if I'm fucking you, heh." He sadistically chuckles.

He keeps you in the position, having your back arched for him. His tail sways at the sight with a smirk of your ass, red from little smacks and pussy wet and messy. He rubs the tip of his thick fingers rub against your slit, playing with your folds. You whimper from the sudden touch, yet wiggle your hips away. He wasn't having any of that, "keep still, you whore bunny." He barks out the order, glaring at you, even if you can't see how cold his four eyes are on you, you can feel the heat of them.

He has his way with your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit until two fingers sunk into your hole, stretching deep in and feeling around to see if he'll hit a spot to purposefully make you scream. He starts to curl his fingers near your g-spot, teasing you. You push your hips back only to find how he uses one of his four arms to ground you. You whine, sounding frustrated, but know better than to be bratty from how he spanked you.

Sukuna begins to pump his fingers faster, kneeling down and watching how wet his palm is becoming, watching the creamy liquid coat his two digits. He barely gives you time to adjust before he puts another finger into you, trying to stretch you out but get an orgasm out of you.

"o-oh, fuck, right there, yes yes, touch m-" your eyes roll back, back dramatically arched yet so perfect for him. He cocks an eyebrow and starts to go faster, the inhuman pace making the nastiest of sounds you can't believe it's your pussy squelching like that.

"oh, so you do like it?" He scoffs, almost speaking in differently from your little fit. He watches as your wetness soaked him and listened to the sounds of 'pat, pat, pat!!' and lewd swishing sounds.

"m' gonna, gonna c-cum! M' cumming—" You babble on uselessly until you cream around his skilled fingers, the milky liquid making a mess, the cloak below you now getting a taste of your arousal. Sukuna watches you unravel under him, your toes curling and legs jolting, struggling to keep that pretty arch.

"atta girl, such a pretty mess."

He gives you no time to readjust to relaxing from your recent orgasm, he already positioned himself behind you, sitting on his knees.

Sukuna quickly begins to stroke his cock lazily, leaving his second cock neglected for now. He only presses his tip against your cunt.

You find yourself with your back forcefully arched by one large hand pressing you down, face in his cloak, feeling his wet tip teasing your cunt and sliding to meet your clit. Every touch makes you jolt, tears still coming. "'kuna..." you sob uselessly, gripping the cloak below you. Your cotton tail twitches with every smack he lands on your ass, making it red and marked his. He snickers before leaning his crushing weight onto you, voice in your ear. "What is it, bunny?" He flashes his sharp fangs, grazing your shoulder.

"gimmie..."

The simple word let's him know what you mean. He leaned back, a throaty and degrading laugh rumbling in his chest. "You were begging for me to stop, right? Now someone can't wait for it?"

Despite his words and acting like he wasn't going to give you what you wanted, he lazily strokes his cock before he angles it up with your awaiting cunt. For all of his rough manhandling and groping, he was actually trying to make sure his tip could at least sink in before he started to completely ruin you. He could hear the sounds of you struggling, which honestly only disappointed him because he wasn't even using any force. Was he going to have to baby you?

Finally, he gets to sink half of his length inside of that sticky and warm mess, groaning at the satisfaction of feeling you around him. You were so tiny and tight, it was a perfect combination for someone like him who just wanted his cock to be strangled by the perfect cunt.

Your thighs quiver, the new feeling of some monstrous size deep inside. You never had it this good, pussy so full of cock your juices dripped out because there was no room. Your eyes shut, trying to stop your cunt from fluttering deliciously around him.

"wan' it?" He asks teasingly, more like tormenting, grabbing a good amount of flesh from your plump ass. You nod frantically, wanted to see what it feels like to have someone this big, let alone have two cocks this big. Your answer doesn't surprise him much, it only took a few minutes and you were already on his side. "Then work for it. Fuck yourself on my cock."

You whined into the cloak, feeling hot and sweaty besides the cold weather outside. You slowly shifted your body forward, rocking against the ground and your knees, making his cock pop out. You back it up on him, feeling him hit your cervix as he sinks into your inviting pussy once again. You couldn't help but moan and shudder every time you could feel your cervix being threatened to be broken.

You took advantage of this small moment of control, making sure you moved your hips slowly off of his cock, a small sticky coating sound filling your ears with more possible lewd thoughts. You needed time to adjust.

Sukuna groans, feeling proud of you. He playfully tapped your ass with a smirk, watching your body rock back and forth against his cock. "Atta girl, fuck, you got it." He taps your ass more, loving how it jiggles and all the redness left over from his spankings.

You continue to fuck yourself into him like a toy, but you were going slowly. It was all too big, you could feel him so wrongly. It was absolutely sinful. It felt raw, so raw that it burnt if you made his cock stroke your insides wrong.

He groans again, but this time it was because he was frustrated. Why did you have to go so slow?

"Can't you speed up?" His hands travel up to the back of your neck, his middle finger pressing hard against your nape. Your ears fold down to your skull again, and you could tell this groan wasn't something good. You try to turn your head to look back at him, the way you pout and look for validation for your work was so cute. The way your ears will shrink down because he sounded disappointed, how your cotton tail was moving.

"I knew I shouldn't leave things to slutty rabbit like you." He places two hands on your hips. He snaps his hips forward into yours, causing your body to lifelessly bounce forward from his force.

"N-ngh, hmph!" You muffle your moans, your eyes finally opening once again as you feel the pleasure and pain.

Sukuna grinned at the sight, not wasting any time to finally get his second dick wet. He grabbed his other cock and quickly spreaded his precum all over the length of him before he was able to slide into your anus without any warning. The double penetration left you moaning, sobbing, and whimpering. You tried to move your hips away from him, feeling as his thrust slowly started to get more aggressive.

"Nuh-uh, bunny. Stay here, be a good girl." he delivers another painful smack against your ass for trying to run away from his cock, literally.

Your body kept jolting forward with every calculated and painful thrust of his cock deep inside, stroking your G-spot repetitively, making you see stars. You tried to grip onto the cloak below you, desperately needing something to hold for comfort. You couldn't help but feel so weak, you had a monster above you. You were just a tiny little bunny.

"s-slow doowwnn..." you whine, raising your head up so your voice could be heard, even if most of it was just incohesive noise and moaning, blabbers of his name like a chant.

Your request fall to deaf ears. He was too engrossed with how amazing your cunt was sucking him back in, your anus, and the view of such a tiny little bunny below him.

You feel a familiar knot building up inside of your stomach, and you can feel yourself slowly starting to ruin your perfect arch. Again, it was like you were trying to run away from the cocks. Your anus felt so full, you never had anything up there, not even your own fingers. You never knew how amazing good feel to have two holes occupied.

There was just one difference.

It felt so much more intense than a normal orgasm. You couldn't tell what was going to happen, for a second you felt like you had to pee. Your cunt started to spasm aggressively; never had Sukuna felt someone so eager to cum (unless it was rut season), and he fucked many hybrids.

You couldn't even process any words, no sort of warning came out. The only thing that did come out was a long gush of clear, sticky liquid absolutely ruining his happy trail and pelvis. Oh, and his cock? Soaked.

His eyes widen in shock, yet he was so proud of you in his own twisted ways. He rubbed over your sore ass, a smile if that was almost full of disbelief that you just squirted all over him like that. "You just squirted on me, slutty girl."

He most definitely has to make fun of you.

"little messy bunny, pussy just felt so good had to tap out?"

You find a good grip onto the cloak below you that was now soaked in your squirt. Your little cunnie continued to pleasure his cock, your very inexperienced anus getting abused, mind just full of his name and his cock, your sensitive body going crazy, making your toes curl. Your bunny ears perk up, voice desperate as you keep trying to run away from his cock—

"you can't just stay fuckin' still?" He growls and presses his hand hard on your back, breaking your arch and making your knees fumble, having you pressed flushed against the cloak, the cold ground more evident to your skin. He leans his weight over you, cocks still finding a way to work into both holes.

"'kuna, p-please, no—no more, no more..." you cry out, rosey and cute cheeks stained with tears.

"sh, just take my cocks. Take 'em, cum all over me." His tone almost changed and he gazed at how helpless you look, feeling an urge to... Bite you. He leaned more of his weight on top of you, making your eyes shot open—how close can he get? His fluffy tail comes around and wraps you up near him, fur tickling your sides. He allows his tail to slip under your body—he lifted you up real quick—and held you close.

He fucked into you with more focus now, focused on you. Those moans and how you were so small under him, he felt the power and the urge to bite you, make you cry, cream, squirt, beg, to protect you... Yeah, he wants you. So bad.

Sukuna growls lowly, his breathing becoming more heavy, what you can only assume as a sign he's close to cumming. He stiffens his cocks into both your holes, filling them both at the same time, his steamy seed flowing in white ropes in you, making you shudder. He filled you deep; his plans to breed you to keep you closer to him.

You limped like a doll on the cloak, naked and cummed stuffed in you. Sukuna's large hand runs down your body and grabs you cotton tail again, lifting your ass up, your lower body propped up for his eyes. You didn't even make much of a fuss, only muttering "m' so full 'kuna..."

He watches his cum leaking out your two used holes, seeing how much he stretched them out from his ministrations. He unwraps his tail from your body, which was once warm and the cold air ruined it, and he pulled you to him. He grabbed his cloak, your juices all over it, and wrapped it around your nude body.

"you enjoyed it? See, now all that fuckin' fighting was useless." He coos as he walked you away from the sex scene, his cum trailing down your thighs and dripping in the snow. All you do is nod on response, nuzzling into his chest. He looks down at your lazy state, looking fucked out after all of that fun.

"you'll come with me bunny. I'll eat my cum out at my place."

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed

Should I make this a series? I wanna start a series so baaad

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen smut #ryomen x you #hybrid #bunny girl #wolf boy #subby bunny #kaizyn drabble

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fvsm4x · 6 months

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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru] part II

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , Geto Suguru x female reader , dark themes , no happy ending w gojo , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.1k+

— A/N: I was supposed to finish this next week but- oh well..I hope you like it.

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read part I for better understanding

It has been several months since your breakup with Gojo, and you find yourself still living with Geto. Despite the change in your relationship status, your bad habits are still there. However, there is a silver lining to this situation - you no longer struggle as much as you have, because you no longer have the burden of paying the bills due time.

At first, you felt guilty about letting Geto pay the financial responsibility alone. You insisted on contributing your fair share. However, Geto, being the persuasive individual he is, somehow managed to convince you otherwise. He made a compelling argument, suggesting that it would be wiser for you to save up the money you earn through your work. By doing so, you would have the means to purchase necessary items for yourself in the future.

But in return geto wanted you to go grocery shopping and cook meals for him. It became a daily routine for you to venture out and purchase the necessary ingredients. Despite the repetitive nature of this task, you never complained. After all, Geto had provided you with a roof over your head and so much more. It was your way of expressing gratitude and repaying him for his generosity.

Living with Geto turned out to be a pleasant experience. He was not only caring but also incredibly kind. Whenever you found yourself in the midst of a mental breakdown, he was there to offer support. His comforting presence was like a soothing balm for your troubled mind. He would hold you close, whispering words of reassurance and understanding into your ear, doing whatever it took to make you feel okay again.

One incident that truly showcased Geto's empathy and understanding was when you were cutting yourself in the bathroom. Instead of scolding you or telling you to stop, he patiently waited behind the closed door until you had calmed down. Only then would he enter, carefully addressing your wounds with a gentle touch. It was evident that he understood the pain of depression and the toll it took on one's well-being.

After all - he had once also experienced depression.

Today, as usual, you found yourself needing to go shopping for fresh ingredients. With a shopping bag in hand, you left the room and made your way to the door that led outside.

Before stepping out, you reached for the jacket hanging near the door. It was Geto's jacket. Although you had your own jacket, Geto insisted that you wear his to protect yourself from the cold. It was that time of year when snowflakes gracefully fell from the sky and the air had a biting chill to it.

At first, Geto had wanted to buy you a new jacket, but you kindly declined, not wanting him to spend any more money on you. Instead, he offered you the option of wearing his jacket.

And so, you found yourself slipping into his jacket, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort as you prepared to face the wintry weather outside.

You stepped outside, and were greeted by a winter wonderland. The world around you was transformed into a picturesque scene straight out of a postcard. The ground was blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, untouched by footprints. The trees stood tall and proud, their branches adorned with delicate icicles that shimmered in the soft sunlight. The air was crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the promise of a magical day ahead.

As you made your way through the snowy landscape, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded you. The snowflakes gently fell from the sky, dancing and twirling as they made their descent, creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Each flake was unique, with intricate patterns and delicate edges that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

The sound of your footsteps crunching in the snow echoed through the stillness, breaking the silence and adding a touch of life to the serene atmosphere. The cold air nipped at your cheeks.

The sight of children building snowmen and families engaged in friendly snowball fights filled your heart with a bittersweet mix of joy and longing. The laughter and playful shouts echoed through the air, creating an atmosphere of pure happiness. It reminded you of the times you had dreamt of a future with gojo, imagining what it would be like to have children of your own, to experience these simple joys as a family.

But reality hit you hard, like a cold gust of wind cutting through your thoughts. Gojo had moved on, finding happiness with someone else. It was a painful truth that you had to accept, even though it still stung deep within. The image of Gojo laughing and playing in the snow with that girl flashed in your mind, a reminder that he had chosen a different path, a different future.

You took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to dampen your spirits.

„Y/n?“ a voice spoke from behind. Your eyes widened as you saw him standing there, your ex, with his signature white hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and tall frame. It was Gojo, the person who had once held your heart in his hands.

He stood before you, his gaze scanning your form before settling on your face. The intensity of his stare made you feel both nervous and vulnerable. You instinctively took a step back, creating a physical distance between you. Gojo noticed your retreat and froze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher your reaction. Your slightly closed eyes and the way you avoided his gaze spoke volumes, revealing the pain and longing that still lingered within you.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nervously fidgeted with the collar of your jacket. The mention of his name caused Gojo’s eyes to drop, a mixture of guilt and regret washing over his features. He had always been used to being called by his first name, but hearing his last name from your lips felt like a painful reminder of the distance that now existed between you.

“How are you?” he asked, attempting to regain eye contact with you.

“I’m okay… I guess,” you replied, finally meeting his gaze. Gojo took a step forward, closing the physical gap between you. His hand gently rested on both of your shoulders, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. The touch was both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You felt nervous, almost scared, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected encounter.

“Listen, I’m sorry for… you know… that we fired you from work. It was really not my intention,” Gojo apologized. You interrupted him, trying to downplay the significance of his actions.

“It’s fine, I forgive you,” you said, your voice lacking conviction. You tried your best to ignore the warmth of his hands on your shoulders, focusing on maintaining your composure. Gojo’s eyes widened as he observed your dropped gaze, uncertain if you were truly okay with what had transpired.

“What?” he asked again, his fingers tightening around your shoulders. That’s when he noticed your jacket, a sense of familiarity washing over him. His fingers instinctively moved to the back of your neck, pulling down the collar to read the name written there.

Geto Suguru.

His best friend’s name was emblazoned on the collar of the jacket you were wearing. It suddenly dawned on him that this was not your jacket, but Geto’s. The scent of Geto’s cologne lingered faintly, intertwining with your own. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded his mind. Was this some sort of revenge? Did you pursue Geto to get back at him, to gain his attention? How did Geto even know about your breakup, despite Gojo never mentioning it to him?

He never expected you to move on so quickly. He knew you had your fair share of struggles, and he had always been the one to bring light into your life. He had believed that you would do anything for him. But the realization that you had seemingly moved on so swiftly ignited a pang of jealousy within him. He had a girlfriend now, he shouldn’t feel this way. His girlfriend was better for him than you, but the sight of you wearing Geto’s jacket still managed to stir something deep within him.

The way you shivered under his touch made him quickly withdraw his hands. “I said it’s okay, I forgive you,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“So, you and Suguru?” he asked, ignoring your response. You raised an eyebrow, ready to answer his question, but before you could speak, your phone began to ring. You quickly retrieved it from your pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

Suguru.

Gojo awkwardly stood there, his gaze shifting between you and the phone in your hand. He couldn’t help but notice that the phone you were holding was different from the one he had once bought you. The mark on the phone indicated that it was a cheaper model, a flip phone, unlike the expensive one he had gifted you. Confusion washed over him as he wondered why you would exchange a high-end phone for a cheaper alternative.

Little did he know that you had sold the phone he had given you out of necessity. You had run out of money and needed to pay the bills for the motel you were staying in. Desperate times had forced you to part with the precious gift, opting for a more affordable option.

After answering the call, you quickly excused yourself, explaining that you needed to go buy groceries. However, before you could make your way out, Gojo reached out and gently grabbed your arm, in which you hissed.

"Wait," he said, "Are you and Suguru dating?" His question hung in the air, his eyes searching yours for any hint of confirmation or denial.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. "No, Gojo," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "I just live with him. We're roommates."

Gojo's grip on your arm loosened slightly, his expression shifting from confusion to relief. The relief was evident in his eyes, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I see," he said, "I'm glad to hear that." There was a brief pause between the two of you as you tried to progress what he just said.

Why would Gojo be glad to hear that you and Geto weren't dating? As you tried to process his reaction, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, extending it towards you.

"Uh, since you live with Suguru, it must be bothersome for you," he stammered, struggling to find the right words. "Take this apartment key. It's for you, as an apology for getting you fired."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. You didn't want anything from Gojo, especially not as a form of apology. "I'm fine being with Suguru. I don't need this key," you replied, pressing it back into his chest. You turned around, ready to walk away and put this painful encounter behind you.

But before you could take another step, Gojo's voice called out, desperation lacing his words. "Wait, please take it!" His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to flinch. The pain from the cuts on your arms intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes.

You quickly shrugged off his hand, wanting to escape the physical pain. As you looked up at Gojo, you saw his eyes downcast, filled with remorse. It hurt to see him like this, knowing that you still hadn't fully moved on from him. You wanted him to be happy, to see him smile, but it seemed like that was a distant dream.

"Okay, I'll take it. Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You reached out and took the key from his hand. With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, determined to focus on the task at hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy groceries."

"Right, uh... have a good day, Y/n!" Gojo called after you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked away,

—

"Suguru, I'm home," you called out, stepping into his house and slipping off your shoes and jacket. The familiar scent of Suguru's home enveloped you as you made your way to the living room, where Geto was lounging on the sofa, engrossed in a TV show.

"Welcome back," he greeted, turning his head to meet your gaze with a warm smile.

"I have some news," you announced, making your way to the kitchen to unload the groceries. Geto followed you, his curiosity piqued, and settled on a chair at the kitchen island, facing you.

As you began to unpack the grocery bag, placing items into the fridge, you tossed a bag of chips to Geto. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes lighting up with gratitude as he opened the bag and popped a chip into his mouth.

"So, what's the news?" he asked, his voice muffled by the chips.

"Well," you started, carefully choosing your words, "I found an apartment." You decided not to mention that it was Gojo who had bought it for you. The thought of Gojo's gesture still stirred up conflicting emotions within you.

Geto's eyebrows raised,"Where is it?"

You continued to organize the groceries, avoiding eye contact as you replied, "It's not too far from here, and it‘s quite big too, so if you want you can move in with me. You know, it‘s really nice to finally have someone who cares for me other than satoru.." you trailed off.

You mustered the courage to look back at Geto's face, and your heart skipped a beat at the wide-open eyes staring back at you. "You want me to move in with you...?" he asked,

"Yeah... I'm afraid I got attached to you... sorry," you muttered, your hands finding their way onto the counter as you looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

Geto was taken aback by your confession. He had always known about your deep love for Satoru, as you would often seek solace in his room after a nightmare, finding comfort in his presence. In those vulnerable moments, you would whisper Satoru's name as you fell asleep, leaving Geto to silently bear the weight of unrequited love.

From the moment he first laid eyes on you, fate seemed to have decided that he would fall in love with you. But to his surprise, you were already dating his best friend when you first crossed paths. He had initially dismissed you as one of Satoru's chicks, assuming that you would be discarded after a short while. But it turned out that your relationship with Satoru was serious, and his heart couldn't help but ache with jealousy.

He couldn't help but steal glances at the way you looked at Satoru, the admiration in your eyes and the way your lips curved into a smile whenever he was around. It made him envious, but he knew he had no right to feel that way towards his best friend. So he buried his own feelings and pretended to like you only as a friend, even though his heart yearned for more.

As time went on, Geto began to notice a change in Satoru's behavior. The manwhore tendencies he had abandoned when you and he started dating seemed to resurface. It was as if he had grown tired of the commitment and started seeking the attention of other women right in front of Geto's eyes.

The pain of witnessing Satoru's infidelity gnawed at Geto's heart. He wanted to protect you, to tell you about Satoru's behaviour, but he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you with those words. He knew how deeply attached you were to Satoru, how you would forgive him for every transgression, even something as devastating as cheating. You simply couldn't let him go.

Until one day, the inevitable happened. The two of you broke up.

The news hit Geto like a punch to the gut. On one hand, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief that you were no longer tied to Satoru's unfaithfulness. But on the other hand, he knew that your heart would be shattered, and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing you in pain.

You stood there in the kitchen, glare dropped as you mentioned your ex‘s name. Geto's heart ached for you. He wanted to offer comfort, to hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay. But he knew that the wounds were fresh, and he would have to tread carefully, waiting for the right moment to reveal his own feelings.

For now, all he could do was be there for you, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear.

„Sure..I can move in with you if that‘s what you would like.“ he spoke, forcing a smile.

Your eyes immediately lightened up as you heard his words,“really?“ you asked.

Geto nodded, his smile growing wider as he saw the genuine happiness radiating from your face. "Yes, really," he replied,“I want to be there for you, to support you and care for you in ways that Satoru couldn't."

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you realized the depth of Geto's commitment. It was a stark contrast to the fleeting affection you had experienced with Satoru. You had always yearned for someone who would truly see you, who would cherish and prioritize your happiness above all else. And now, standing before you, was Geto, offering you just that.

A mixture of emotions swirled within you - excitement, relief, and a tinge of sadness for the end of your relationship with Satoru. You took a step closer to Geto, your eyes locked with his, as you whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for being here for me."

Geto's smile softened,"You don't have to thank me," he replied gently.

No.

No. No. No..

What is this?

This is not what Gojo expected when he entered his apartment after being away for a week. The first thing he heard were moans coming from his and his girlfriend's bedroom, and immediately he made his way there to investigate. What he saw was something he never could have imagined. His girlfriend, completely naked, was on top of someone else, riding them on their shared bed where they used to make love. It was a scene that shattered his heart and left him feeling betrayed.

She was cheating on him.

Gojo stood frozen by the door, his eyes wide with shock, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and his once joyful smile replaced by a look of pain.

As he looked at the girl who had been his girlfriend just moments ago, Gojo couldn't help but draw parallels between her and you. The guilt he had felt then was nothing compared to the remorse that now gnawed at his soul.

In that moment, he couldn't fully comprehend the impact of his actions, but now, as he stood in that bedroom, he felt the weight of his betrayal crashing down upon him.

Gojo's gaze shifted from his ex-girlfriend to the guy who had been underneath her. A surge of jealousy and insecurity coursed through him, as he couldn't help but compare himself to this unknown person. Who was he? What did he possess that Gojo lacked? The comparison was inevitable, and it only added fuel to the fire of pain that already consumed him. Doubts gnawed at his mind, questioning his worthiness and wondering if he had failed to measure up, if he had been inadequate in some way.

The room felt suffocating. Gojo's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the shattered love and trust that lay in ruins.

Gojo stormed into the bedroom, his anger and hurt fueling his every step. The force with which he swung the door open was a reflection of the turmoil raging within him, a physical manifestation of the chaos that had erupted in his life. His eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and fury, locked onto the figure lying beneath his now ex-girlfriend.

"Satoru, wait!" the girl cried out, her voice laced with panic and fear, as she was pushed away from the person beneath her. But Gojo was beyond reason, consumed by a maelstrom of emotions that drowned out any pleas for mercy.

Gojo lunged forward, his hand shooting out to seize a handful of her hair. The pain of his grip was a stark contrast to the tenderness he had once shown her, a cruel reminder of the power he held over her in that moment. Their eyes locked, and in that intense gaze, he saw her pupils constrict, a sign of both fear and resignation. Her lower lip quivered, a silent plea for him to release her from his grasp.

But Gojo was deaf to her pleas, his grip on her hair only tightening as she desperately tried to free herself. The sound of her voice, trembling with vulnerability, fell upon deaf ears as he murmured a single word, "Why..." His voice was filled with a mix of confusion and betrayal, unmoved by the smaller hands that desperately attempted to pry his hold loose.

And then, like a dagger to his heart, she uttered the words that shattered his world. "I'm sorry! I found someone else—I love him... please, let go!" Her voice trembled with a mixture of guilt and desperation, her words echoing in the air like a painful confession.

The weight of those words crashed into Gojo's consciousness like a tidal wave, the impact reverberating through his entire being. Found someone else...? The realization hit him with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. These were the same words he had once spoken to you, the words that had torn your world apart.

As if struck by lightning, Gojo released his grip on her hair, his hand falling limply to his side. He stepped back, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and disbelief. The girl, now free from his hold, collapsed onto the bed, her body crumpling under the weight of the emotional turmoil that had unfolded before her.

Was this the same anguish you had felt when he had confessed he had found someone else? Did he truly forsake someone as remarkable as you for this girl? The weight of his actions settled heavily upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer ignore.

As he turned away from the girl and the person she had been with, Gojo's mind became a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs. Memories of your time together flashed before his eyes, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost. The pain of his own betrayal and the pain he had inflicted upon you mingled within him, creating a storm of guilt and remorse.

Gojo found himself in the living room, his body sinking into the couch as he attempted to make sense of it all. The weight of betrayal pressed upon him, threatening to crush him beneath its burden. It was as if his entire world had crumbled in an instant, leaving him feeling adrift and broken.

His mind was swirling with regrets and unanswered questions, he couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend what had been irreparably broken. Could he ever earn back your trust? Could he ever make amends for the pain he had caused? The questions plagued his thoughts, but the answers remained elusive.

With a heavy heart weighing him down, Gojo rose from the comfort of the couch and made his way towards the front door. The weight of his emotions pushed him to leave, to escape the haunting memories that seemed to linger within the walls of the apartment. His mind was consumed by a single thought - he needed to find you, to apologize before it was too late. Perhaps, just maybe, you would find it in your heart to forgive him.

However, little did Gojo know that time was not on his side. As he hurriedly made his way to the apartment he had given you, a place that was meant to be his girlfriend’s sanctuary, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that he had entrusted you with the key instead. The thought of seeing you again, of having the chance to make things right, gave him a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded him.

Arriving at the apartment, Gojo rushed up the stairs, his mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts about what he would say when he finally saw you. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket, grasping onto the spare keys that he had kept for emergencies. With a mix of anticipation and anxiety, he approached the door that was supposed to lead him to you. Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock, turning it slowly and opening the door.

However, instead of being greeted by an empty room, Gojo found himself standing in the midst of a completely transformed space. The apartment had undergone a complete renovation, a stark contrast to the memories he had held onto. But amidst the unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes were drawn to something that instantly caught his attention - clothes scattered across the floor. A shirt, two pairs of pants, and a bra lay haphazardly, creating a puzzle that Gojo couldn’t help but try to piece together.

Confusion furrowed his brow as he pondered the presence of the bra on the floor. If there was no sound of moaning or clapping, then it meant that you didn’t have anyone over, right? But the pants… they were definitely not yours. They were too wide, too different from your usual style. Gojo’s gaze swept the room, searching for answers, before he made his way through the apartment, his steps guided by an unexplainable instinct.

He stopped in front of a closed door, hesitating for a moment before gently pushing it open, revealing a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. His eyes widened in disbelief as they landed on Geto, his best friend, lying in bed with you cradled in his arms. The sight of Geto’s upper body, partially exposed, showcased his muscular chest and abs, while your figure rested against him, your shoulders and neck adorned with small, telltale bruises. Both of you were fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the presence of another person standing by the door.

A mixture of shock, betrayal, and anger coursed through Gojo’s veins as he tried to comprehend what he was witnessing. Why was Geto here? He had always been aware of Geto’s secret crush on you, but he had never expected his best friend to make a move, especially not with you. The pain in Gojo’s heart intensified as he saw you, the person he believed to be his and his alone, in someone else’s arms, covered in another person’s kisses and bruises.

Gojo stood there, his heart heavy with disbelief and heartbreak. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Was it too late? Was there no way to fix what he had done?

Suddenly, a voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. It was his best friend, looking at him with a mix of concern and frustration. Gojo's eyes met his, and he could see the unspoken question in them.

"You gonna continue staring or what?" his best friend asked, his tone slightly teasing.

Gojo's emotions surged, and he couldn't hold back the words any longer. "You did it on purpose, didn't you? You waited for the moment she was vulnerable so you could swoop in and be her hero. All in the hope of leading her into bed."

His fists clenched, and he wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve. His best friend remained calm, his gaze steady. "I'm merely doing what you couldn't. I'm here for her, offering support and care in ways you never could, Satoru."

Gojo's anger flared, and he shouted, "What do you mean?!" But his best friend cut him off, his voice firm but gentle.

"Don't shout, she's had a tough night and deserves some rest," he said, covering you with a blanket.

"You act like you're some kind of savior. What gives you the right to step in and play hero in her life?"

His best friend sighed, meeting Gojo's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'm doing it because she deserves genuine care and someone who will love her just the way she does."

Gojo's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "I love her just the way she does!"

"If you did," his best friend calmly replied, "you wouldn't have cheated on her multiple times and then left her for someone else."

The accusation hung heavily in the air, shattering any pretense of composure between the two friends. Gojo felt the weight of his best friend's words, realizing the depth of the hurt he had caused. The room seemed to echo with the fractured friendship and the complex emotions entangled in this unexpected confrontation.

"I never wanted things to turn out like this," Gojo confessed, his voice filled with regret. "What do you expect me to do now?"

His best friend's gaze hardened, his voice firm. "Face the consequences of your actions, Satoru. But understand this: she doesn't want anything to do with you now. Give up and let her find the happiness she deserves elsewhere."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Gojo struggled to find a response, a knot forming in his stomach. His best friend continued, his voice softer this time.

"She moved on, Satoru," he said, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and deception. "You broke her trust, and she's found someone who treats her with the respect and love she deserves. Don't complicate her life any further."

Gojo's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists as the realization hit him. The person beneath the blanket, blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding them, remained a symbol of the consequences of his actions.

"I messed up, I know that," Gojo admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "But I can't just give up on her."

His best friend's expression hardened. "Giving up isn't about abandoning her; it's about respecting her choices. She doesn't want you in her life anymore. Accept that and move forward."

"You had your chance, Satoru. Now it's time to let her go," his best friend said, his voice filled with finality.

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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

Text

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: i had a "no bald men" rule before he licked a knife... so y'all know my priorities are in order. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (as per usual), Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atreides (it's just such a good prompt i couldn't help myself),

Summary: A month-long engagement to the na-Baron Harkonnen makes you question, whether a marriage can bloom on the grounds of hate. Loosely based on "Special Death" by Mirah.

Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.4 (finale)

The message comes from the Emperor himself. An indisputable order that renders your Father speechless. You've never seen him quite as distraught, as when he has visited you in your chambers to deliver the news. Hands fidgeting, eyes refusing to meet yours, heavy shadows falling across his face. He seems to expect your reaction, not giving you as much as a flinch, when you scream your protests at him. And he should've expected as much, you were always the more impulsive of Duke Leto's children.

- But the Harkonnens are beasts - you argue, voice breaking - You've said it yourself, many times.

- Actually, I think that was Gurney...

- You've never denied it!

And he doesn't deny it now, head hung low. Never, not once in your life, have you seen your Father give up. Until today.

Your Mother enters just a few seconds after him, her dress flowing around her ankles as if she had floated in on a cloud. She stands to the side of your bed, hands folded, and an impassive expression embedded onto her features. And the more she speaks of the centuries of breeding, the importance of an union and the powers beyond your understanding, the less you see of your mother. What stands before you, instead, is a Bene Gesserit sister, veiled in schemes and dark plans, which were in the making before you were even born. You curse yourself for not noticing this stranger sooner, and storm off, out of your room, your shawl blowing out behind you like bat wings.

Paul doesn't visit you, but you can hear him, even through the effort of swallowing down your tears. He fights for you against your Father. He would fight for you against the whole Empire if he had to, and your heart swells, as he throws a particularly nasty curse into the air of your Father's study. It doesn't change anything. According to the decree of the Emperror, the oldest daughter of the Duke Leto Atreides will marry Feyd Rautha, an heir to the Baron Harkonnen. A centuries long dispute is about to be put to an end, and all thanks to the small sacrifice, which is your life. All would be well in the galaxy. Really, you should be honored, to be tasked with such a monumental peace treaty.

Everyone in the court seems to know about your situation. Mournful looks follow you, as you walk into the training barracks, ridding yourself of layers upon layers of flowing fabrics, leaving you in a rather tight costume, light enough to beat your frustrations out on someone.

Duncan Idaho meets your searching eyes, and you know he is aware as well. All it takes is one inclination of your chin, and he's up on his feet, sword in hand. Loyal as ever, he stands in front of you, watches with mixed feelings as you enable your shield, no questions asked. None needed.

He barely has time to put his defenses up, when you charge at him, fury and despair pushing your movements into stances which are clumsy and ill though out. Still, there's power within your strikes, a strength of someone who needs to move, unless they break. So he lets you, for a couple of minutes. He dodges your attacks, pairing some of them, never moving quite into the offense.

The rest of the soldiers scurry off somewhere, for which you will be thankful in the future. They might hear your cries of anger, but they will not see you break. They will not see the way your blade smashes into Duncan's shield over and over again, with no regard for the slow attacks, which would penetrate it. Likewise, they don't see your sparring partner fall to his knees and swipe you off your feet in a split-second movement, making you hit the floor with a frustrated snarl. And they don't see you finally give up, and cry, hugging your blade to your chest, the severity of your circumstance falling onto you, crushing you down.

- Never fight in anger, Princess - Duncan reminds you, voice cautious, and you growl at him like a wild animal - It dulls your instincts, makes you distracted.

- Did you know? - you demand, your sharp voice cutting through his half-assed lecture.

For a moment he looks truly remorseful. His eyes float around the room, and your heart sinks when he sighs deeply.

- I found out not long ago - he confesses - Your Father told me.

Your blade slides against the floor as you throw it, a raw scream tearing through your throat. Duncan takes a step towards you, hand extended towards your shaking form. But, before he can attempt to touch you, you're up, rolling your shoulders forcefully. Tears stain your cheeks, and you wipe them roughly with the back of your hand, skin becoming irritated almost instantly. There are swords laid out on a small table, just beside you, your fingers grip the cold handle so hard, your knuckles seem to creak under the pressure. Duncan readies himself as well, dusting off his trousers.

He's not good at comforting, but he's the best at fighting, and if that's what you need in this cold morning, he'll oblige.

- You'll make it through, you know - he says, his voice genuine, and you laugh without any mirth.

Your blades clash, faces coming closer as you absentmindedly notice small scars adorning his cheeks.

- You can adapt to anything - you strike against his shoulder, the shield pushes your blade away - We could send you to Arrakis right now, and a week later you'd be riding a damned Sandworm into battle.

To that, you laugh, this time your smile reaching your eyes. The idea is preposterous, but it renders your footsteps lighter, and you twist to dodge a nasty blow to the right arm. Duncan huffs a laugh as well, as you slip through his fingers. He points his blade in your direction, a smirk playing across his lips, and you bare your teeth in a playful display of wildness.

- Careful, Princess, you might scare your betrothed away - Duncan teases, as you roll your dagger in your hand.

- Scare a damned Harkonnen? Do you find me that intimidating? - the idea thrills you just a little bit, you're woman enough to admit it.

- I think you're fucking terrifying.

- Duncan Idaho, you better not be swearing at my Daughter.

Your face falls immediately, as your Father approaches the two of you, shooting Duncan a stern gaze which holds no real threat. Still, your sparring partner raises his hands, his blade tucked away safely into his belt. There's sweat clinging to your skin from all the training, mingling with drying tears on your cheeks, and Duke Leto tries very hard not to comment on your choice of processing recent events. Still, he nods at you, and like a good daughter, you put your blade away, walking from the barracks after him.

***

The Emperor has called for a traditional, Atreides engagement. A mercy, which you're eternally grateful for. You're not too aware of Harkonnen customs regarding marriage, but given the House's reputation, it couldn't have been pleasant. House Atreides however, took to such matters much more ceremonially, old-fashioned to some.

Soon, a ship is arriving, with your betrothed onboard, and a month-long courting period willcommence. After that, official engagement and soon after, a wedding. Then, you will be transported back on Geidis Prime, where a life of misery awaits. That's all the time you have. A month.

The dress, which was picked out for you, is uncomfortable and shows both too much and too little skin at the same time. While your legs are bare and exposed to an almost scandalous degree, a high, stiff collar nearly chokes the life out of you. This whole getup was the idea of your mother, as an attempt to highlight your best features and hide all that might be considered less desirable.

You have no idea what's wrong with your neck. Perhaps, by cutting off your airflow, your mother aimed to keep you docile.

She frowns deeply as you tug on the fabric, nerves climbing up your spine, growing more desperate every second. She swats at your hand, and you throw her a look. Out of the corner of your eye Paul smiles at your antics, your only consolation in this hopeless place.

- Stop fidgeting, you'll tear the dress - Lady Jessica scolds you, and you can sense actual worry underlining her stern voice.

The Harkonnen ship slowly glides into the atmosphere of your home planet, a black, awful thing. Like all things on Geidis Prime, dark and miserable. Soon, you'll join them, adorned in equally black and lifeless clothing, never to see your family again. Never to see the Ocean. Your nails bite into the collar of the dress, you can hear a stitch tear.

- Stop that.

Your hands fall uselessly against your body, as your mother uses the Voice on you. Wouldn't be the first time, you were quite the unruly daughter and Lady Jessica was determined to make a Lady out of you no matter the means. Still, this time, the unnatural tone feels more like a panicked plea, than a light-hearted scolding.

- Relax Mother - your voice is sharp, despite the slight tremble - In a months time I'll be gone from here forever, stuck in some blackened cell, wistfully sighing "ooh" "aah".

You place your hand on your forehead in a dramatic display of doubtful acting abilities. When you were younger, your mother would laugh at you, as you enacted scenes from romance books. You would throw yourself at a nearby piece of furniture, pretending to be some wronged lover, or an unhappy bride waiting for someone to liberate her. And your mother would clap her hands, thoroughly entertained.

Today however, she doesn't even crack a smile.

- I don't expect you to be happy about all this - she whispers - But I do expect you to wear your grief with some grace.

A slap would've been kinder, you think, and stare ahead, as the Harkonnen ship opens, and a group of people dressed in black spill out of it like ants from a drowning anthill. Your heart is thrumming hard in your chest, and your hand reaches out, despite all your apprehension, towards your mother. A force of habit, to search consolation within her disregarding the fact, that it was her meddling that put you here.

Her fingers lace with yours, thumb stroking your palm in an attempt to soothe you.

Immediately, you know which one of the bald headed Harkonnen is your betrothed.

He's much taller than you, an imposing figure even despite his rather lean built. His skin is almost completely white, as expected, his teeth are blackened out, as expected as well, and his eyes are bearing into you with an intensity so oppressing, you almost look away. Almost.

- I present to you, Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

The pale man steps forward, releasing you from his gaze for only just a moment, to trade pleasantries with your Father, who looks beyond miserable as he fixes your soon-to-be husband with a tired look. Then, Feyd Rautha is brought before you.

There's grace to his movements you did not expect, as he pushes his black cloak aside, and kneels in front of you. Harkonnen were known for their bulky ruthlessness, but this one... This one reminded you of a panther, the way his eyes travelled the length of your body, full lips pulling upward into a barely noticable smirk.

Customs, you remind yourself, as your mother's hand squeezes your fingers. You don't want to let her go, but you do, slowly, with so many mixed thoughts rattling around your brain, it makes your head swim.

Feyd Rautha grabs your extended hand in such a gentle manner, you're almost convinced the Harkonnens have shaved some poor bastard and dropped him off instead of the real na-Baron. Then, he lifts your palm up, until his lips press against your fingertips, a gesture so tender, your heart does a flip in your chest. And then, it stops all together, when his grip on your palm tightens, and he pulls your hand closer, to kiss it properly. As if he can't help himself, he looks up at you, and you realize.

You almost got yourself caught, but reading people's intentions have been taught to you as fervently as reading texts, and you can see right through this facade of chivalry. There's darkness in this man, a swirling void, which brings a wave of cold fear upon you. This cunning, depraved creature will soon enough become your husband, and you'll be stuck with him forever. How long will he keep up this impeccable appearence? Was this performence for you, your Father, his own twisted fun, or all the things combined?

With a furrowed brow, you tear your hand out of his grasp, a full body shiver running up your spine at the sight of his self-satisfied smirk. He drinks up your reactions like a man parched, and you fight hard to put on a mask of indifference, as he rises from his knees to stand before you in all his imposing glory.

***

You can feel his eyes follow you, as the welcome committee retreats into the Palace. He doesn't let you out of his sight throughout the feast, which takes place immediately after his arrival, and even now, as he gets ready to "entertain" the court by indulging in some barbaric ceremony of his, his eyes are trained only on you.

It's uncomfortable, to say the least, having him stare at you, while you sit surrounded by your family, who, for the most part, say nothing. Except Paul. Your dear baby brother, your protector in all this madness. As Feyd Rautha throws his coat to the side, showing off his (admittedly impressive) muscles, Paul leans towards you.

- He looks like a hard boiled egg, don't you think sister? - he whispers and subsequently ends your vow of silence.

The giggle you let out is caught quickly by everyone around, your betrothed included, before you press an open palm against your lips.

- Behave - your mother warns, and you try, you really do.

But in the serene light of the fading sun, your soon-to-be husband's head does look frighteningly egg-ish. God, you'll get yourself killed, before the wedding ceremony is even resolved if you keep this up.

You're seated high in an outdoor theater. One of your grandfather's favorite places, where he used to dance with bulls for sport. Where he met his demise.

Feyd Rautha presents his knives to you and your family, their blades glint ominously in the setting sun. Again, you are struck with the sheer grace this man exudes. His movements, despite being forceful and wild, have a beauty to them, as if he was rehearsing ancient dance moves, rather than killing blows.

And, despite your brother's earlier comment, there is something enticing in the way his pale skin catches the rays of bleeding sunshine, slowly creeping towards the horizon. He's almost beautiful, almost handsome enough to consider.

The thought leaves your head almost immediately, as the Harkonnen servants bring in his apparent opponent. Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight of a beaten, dark skinned warrior. Immediately you recognize a Fremen, you've read so much about them in your free time. You know how they filter water, what they eat, how they move through the sands, and despite your knowledge you can't fathom, why this poor man has been brought here.

At your side, Paul shifts in his seat, all jokes leaving him in a hurry. The both of you watch, as the man you're promised to toys with a clearly drugged victim. Slashes bloom on the prisoners skin, blood sprays in the air. You refuse to look away, to show such weakness, even as Feyd Rautha grabs the poor man by his hair and with a forceful push impales his throat on the blade. Blood pours down onto the sand, paints the Harkonnen's face and chest a deep shade of red.

It's a brutal display of power, of cruelty and wildness the Harkonnens are known for. Suddenly, everything Gurney has warned you about, while training your fighting skills, rings like a thousand of bells in your ears. This is who you will marry, who you will spend your entire life with.

You swallow down an urge to throw up, and stand up from your seat.

The show must go on, you think, throwing your Mother one, venomous look, trying to force her to understand your pain. Then, you lock eyes with your betrothed, who watches you from below with a cruel smile, blackened teeth on full display. You meant to congratulate him, to play the part as instructed, but you can do nothing of the sort. Instead, you stare back at him, disgust flowing from your features like a broken faucet.

Lady Jessica opens her mouth, but before she can, without a doubt, scold you again, you're out of the seating area, your footsteps echoing in the halls.

Once you're sufficiently tucked away from prying eyes, your back hits the wall, and you allow yourself feel the luxury of unbridled panic. Your breathing comes out in fast, shallow pants, as cold sweat forms on your forehead. Thoughts racing, your fingers tangle into your hair, tugging at the roots. This is your future, the only future waiting for you, and it's filled wth pain and blood.

- Have you enjoyed the fight, my Lady? - you immediately know it's him, despite not hearing him speak before.

A gasp of surprise leaves you before you can catch it, and your back straightens almost painfully fast.

There he stands, tall and lean, and terrifying. Blood still decorates his torso creating a contrast that is both terrifying and hypnotizing. He watches you, curiosity and humor swirling behind his eyes. You can't decide whether they are completely blackened out, or if they hold a blue, almost serene hue.

- No - you answer, finding your voice entirely too shaky for your liking - I did not enjoy it.

He laughs, a guttural, low sound that makes the hair stand at the back of your neck. You know he wouldn't dare try anything here, right under your Father's nose while the engagement is still in the making. Yet, as you stand frozen, just you, him and the marble walls around you, dread finds home in the pit of your stomach.

- Was that man Fremen? - you ask, partially to fill the silence, partially because you're genuinely curious.

The man shrugs, you can see muscles moving under his white skin. He takes a step towards you and you will yourself not to run.

- Sometimes we bring a couple of captured desert rats home - he explains with a nonchalant tone - Mostly for entertainment.

The almost bored intonation he uses to describe this barbaric ritual makes something boil deep inside you.

- That's cruel - you counter, emotions flowing freely onto your face, much to the man's delight - To deny those men the honor of dying on their home planet. To drag them into a completely foreign place, just to kill them for sport, like some animals... It's...

- Some of them live - he cuts you off, taking another couple of steps towards you, but in your growing outrage, you barely notice - Our brothels are filled with Fremen whores.

Your face twist into an expression of utter repulsion, and Feyd Rautha raises his eyebrows in a pathetic mask of confusion, almost childlike giddiness lighting up his eyes as he looks down at you.

- Oh, don't give me that look, my Lady. - he cooes, and you've never felt a stronger urge to slap the daylights out of someone - I know for a fact there are brothels on your planet filled with hungry soldiers.

- Yes - you bark back at him - but the people there are working prostitutes, not slaves!

He shrugs, looking somewhere to the side of your face.

- A waste of money, if you'd ask me.

- Good thing no one has - there's venom in your voice, and your betrothed sucks a breath through his teeth.

You curse yourself for leaving your dagger, for not concealing it somewhere in this ridiculous dress, because the way the Harkonnen's expression shifts freezes blood right in your veins.

He looks at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, while something much darker lurks in his eyes. His bloodied hand comes up, finger making contact with the exposed skin of your shoulder. You can feel the thick liquid stick to your flesh, as he drags his hand down, painting you, marking you.

- You're quite the little viper, my Lady.

Watching him silently, you don't respond. Don't know how to, when he closes the distance between your bodies enough to make you feel the heat radiating off of his chest, while the smell of blood and sweat completely assaults your senses. It's sickening, the way he looks at you, like you're a new toy, just waiting to be unpacked and destroyed by too eager hands.

- My Uncle, the Baron, has instructed me, to be the utmost gentleman to you. To woo you completely - his voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he grins down at you - But I just can't lie to my future wife like that, can I?

He leans closer and finally, you take a step back, sliding out of his space, assessing a cautious stance. His hand almost follows you, the skin of your shoulder feels conflictingly cold without him.

- Once we're wed, I will possess you completely - this time you stand your ground, as he approaches, circling you like a lion stalking it's prey - And then...

He leans down beside you, shoulder to your shoulder, close enough for you to feel his hot breath graze your ear.

- Like the bull that took your grandfather's life, I shall pierce you.

The violent innuendo doesn't slip past you, and with hatred brewing behind your eyes, you look straight at him, forcing your fear to lay dormant.

- You're disgusting.

- And you're blushing like a lovely, virgin bride should - he concludes, sending an awful wink your way, before withdrawing from you completely.

Your veins burn hot, as you watch him leave, a selfish confidence painting his steps, and you beg every God in existence to grant you a sword in your hand. Or a dagger. A kitchen knife would do as well. Anything, that would help you cut this unbeatable, patronizing, infuriatingly handsome smirk from Feyd Rauthas face.

Alas, you're left with nothing, only a small glimmer of hope dangling in front of you, after your damned betrothed's words fully register in your brain.

A bride you might be, but certainly not a virgin one. Duncan Idaho made sure of that many years ago. The thought makes you smile, despite nerves wreaking havoc in your body. At least that's the one thing Feyd Rautha won't be able to take from you.

#my writing #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune 2024 #dune movie #dune part 2 #feyd rautha smut #dune smut #dune x reader #he looks insane what the hell am i writing

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idiopath-fic-smile · 8 months

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this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that.

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing.

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together.

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it.

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

#singin in the rain ot3 #i might write more idk but listen like you can probably imagine the rest of it #old-timey polyamorous shenanigans on a boat #pretty straightforward stuff #there's singing there's dancing and somehow don managed to 'accidentally' book cosmo in an adjoining bedroom etc etc

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frenchkisstheabyss · 7 days

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♰ ⱠɆ₲łØ₦ ♰

♰ Pairings: demon!matz x chubby!fem!reader, demon!wooyoung x chubby!fem!reader, a sprinkle of demon!san x chubby!fem!reader, (eventual priest yeosang/jongho/yungi x chubby!fem!reader in the future)

♰ Genre: demon au/horror/smut

♰ Summary: Congratulations, darling! It's your destiny to be impregnated by four demons in an ancient Satanic sex ritual that'll lead to the birth of the Antichrist and bring about the end times. Now hop down into this demons' layer and let's get this thing going. Armageddon awaits.

♰ Word Count: 3.1kish

♰ Warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, no pulling out, double vaginal penetration, overstimulation, nipple play, breast play, rough sex, lots of breath play, ritualistic sex, scratching, a lil blood, oral sex (f receiving), sensory play, a lil nibbling, huge huge demon dicks so there's mucho vaginal stretching, the dicks can shapeshift (yes, shapeshift), demons give some dom vibes, reader's for sure subby, a lil possessiveness, demonic powers, religious themes, bondage, a lil choking, telepathy, your body's controlled via powers at some point, pet names (pet, little one, darling, good girl), and that should be it.

♰ A/N: Hold on, hear me out, I can explain. No, I can't. I'm a heathen. I like spooky shit and fucking demons so, ya know, here we are. This is the first part in a series I'm writing and it'll probably only get more unhinged from here honestly so, yeah, hop in babes. It's apocalypse time.

“And he asked him, ‘What is thy name?’And he answered saying, ‘My name is Legion, for we are many’” - Matthew 5:9

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ Laberinto del Demonio ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

Tucked away on the tree shrouded grounds of an aging Spanish manor, a labyrinth spirals deep into the earth. Beneath the lush grass and packed dirt, surrounded by the twisted roots of trees that feast upon the decaying corpses of those who attempt to intrude, this labyrinth is home to fearsome creatures who’ve peacefully slumbered here for hundreds of years. But tonight they awaken. For you.

“Such a beautiful girl. Just let me…” Wooyoung compliments, fussing with a few flyaway strands of your hair. In the year that’s passed since Wooyoung came into your life all he’s done is fuss over you. You’ve never known a more attentive lover. Never met a man so intent on catering to your every whim.

Wooyoung likes to say that it’s the Fates that brought the two of you together but that’s more than a grave exaggeration on his part, it’s an outright lie. If he’d waited on the Fates it’d have been another 200 years before he stumbled upon a female descendant of your bloodline. Finding you by any means necessary, however brutal, was paramount to fulfill his mission and to soothe the heart that ached for what he lost when his love was stripped from him all those centuries ago.

Your resemblance to her is uncanny but everything else about you is incredibly unique. It stimulates him in endless ways, everyday with you marked by some new, exciting experience. He adores you beyond measure and the others, soaking you in through their collective consciousness, have grown incredibly fond of you too.

“There. Perfect, as always” he smiles, taking a step back to admire your silk adorned figure glowing under the light of the moon.

Atop the labyrinth, you admire the torch lit staircase that spirals beneath you. It emits a certain energy that hangs heavy in the crisp autumn air, drawing you towards it. You know what awaits you tonight. Wooyoung went over it with you a dozen times in the last 24 hours alone. It’s something you long for, something that has your body flush with heat at the mere thought of. Yet you can’t seem to shake the nerves that have your fingers trembling as the handsomely dressed dark haired man takes your hand.

Wooyoung strokes your cheek and you soften at his touch, “Are you nervous, my pet?”

“Not nervous. It’s just…” you sigh, nibbling at your inner lip, “What if I’m not who you think I am? What if I can’t handle it?”

Wooyoung lets out a laugh you’ve come to liken to a jackal. Loud, mischievous, and undeniably his. “Can’t handle it? It’s that all you’re worried about?”

He steps in closer to you, stealing a quick, passionate kiss from your crimson stained lips. “You were made for this. In every lifetime you have been and in every lifetime you’ll always be. Now come, the others are waiting.” You soak in Wooyoung’s words, forever a sponge ready to absorb his praise, and gift him the faint smile he needs to lead you forward.

Less forward, more down.

Down past walls built of jagged stone, thick vines weaving between the cracks sprouting tiny emerald flowers you’ve never seen before. Down past ancient symbols carved in meticulously measured increments. It seems to be instructions of some sort. For what you aren’t sure but a tugging in the pit of your stomach tells you that you’ll soon find out.

At last reaching the bottom of the labyrinth you find yourself in a cavernous room dimly illuminated by a hundred or so candles. At the center you spot a large pool of slithering black silk not unlike that which hugs your body. Wooyoung leads you to the center and, as he does, you feel the material begin to writhe against your skin. It snakes its way around your curves, exposing your plush figure to the warmth of the pit as you sense you’ve become one with it.

A chorus of voices begin whispering in your ear, invisible hands grasping at your most intimate areas. Wooyoung captures your lips in another kiss, already groaning at thoughts of what he has planned for you. His hands wander below your waist, fingernails growing sharper as they sink into the softness of your ass. You throw your arms around him, deepening the kiss, but he indulges you only for a brief moment before he begins to back away.

“Soon, my love” he says without speaking a word, “See you on the other side.”

“Woo, wait!” you call out to him but a strong wind whips through the room, extinguishing the flames of the outer candles and swallowing him into darkness. The force of the wind knocks you off your feet but you land with no impact at all, the pit catching you in its embrace, thin strips of silk winding around your thighs. The air around you floods with laughter layered upon laughter, Woo’s melded somewhere in between.

“Aah, finally I see her through my own eyes” a voice breathes out, tickling your spine.

“Such a precious little human. So cute” another much deeper voice hums, the vibration ringing through your chest.

“And she looks so, so…” a third voice chimes in, light as a feather, “Soft!”

In the blink of an eye the silk wrapped around your thigh transforms into a hand, pitch black with razor sharp claws dripping a thick scarlet liquid down your leg. You let out a scream of absolute terror and it transforms back into the harmless material. It’s as if it were all in your head and the hand was never there to begin with.

“Seonghwa, you’re scaring her!” Wooyoung shouts and invisible arms envelope you, comforting you as your fear subsides.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I got a little carried away” Seonghwa apologizes, emerging from the pit in his human form.

He swims through the pit as if it were a pool, only his torso visible as he comes between your legs, his much gentler hands smoothing their way up your thigh. You don’t recognize the face of this beautifully androgynous creature but you’re positive you’ve felt his energy around you before.

“Is this better for you?” he asks, breath hitching at the sight of the slick, sweet arousal dripping from your core.

“Seonghwa?” you moan his name for the first time as his tongue extends to flick your bud. “Woo’s told me so much about you.”

A shimmer of gold ripples across the dark pools that sit where his eyes should be, lips curling into a grin that’s both alluring and sinister. “Aah and what did he tell you about me? Good things?” he asks, his tongue whipping down to prod your tight hole. Seonghwa delights in the string of moans you release as he teases you, pushing his moist tongue into you little by little. Your walls eager to grant him entrance, stretching to accommodate the increasing thickness and length of his tongue.

“Good? Y-yes, good” you breathe out, shocked at the depths his tongue manages to reach. There are no limitations, no bottoming out. He slips his way into every part of you. Tickling the back of your stomach, lapping at your walls in every direction at once. You can taste yourself on the back of your tongue, a sudden fullness in your throat suppressing your desperate moans. Your body’s no longer yours. It does only what he wishes it to. Moves only as he commands.

“You’re being greedy. Share her. Now” something inhuman growls, breaking through the fog in your mind.

It’s not something you were meant to hear, the shedding of those performative voices existing solely for your comfort, but you’re far from afraid. On the contrary, such brutality laced with so much need has you clenching tighter, juices gushing out of you as Seonghwa’s tongue thrusts harshly into your core.

Seonghwa grunts defiantly, lifting you a few inches above the pit without laying a finger on you. Your arms dangle at your sides, fingertips grasping at nothing as your body arches against air. Droplets of your arousal run down your thigh, landing on the silk below and the creatures around you release a collective sigh of satisfaction. They can taste you, the ghost of your flavor lingering on their tongues.

“You are like the other women in your bloodline…” the inhuman voice whispers, becoming more human the closer it gets, “Delicious.”

Two hands reach from outside of your field of vision to caress your plump breasts, firmly pinching your sensitive nipples. Your head falls to the side and you're met with another new face. This one more boyish in his handsomeness but more authoritative in his presence. Wooyoung told you that you’d know his leader when you met him. That you’d feel this immense need to gain his approval, to be as obedient to him as you can be.

“This is Hongjoong” you think and the leader smiles in response.

“Delicious and smart, mmm” he hums, leaning into your neck and breathing your scent deep into his lungs. “Let her speak.”

The fullness vacates your throat at once, leaving you gasping for air, all those suppressed moans echoing off the labyrinth’s walls. Seonghwa’s tongue flutters softly inside of you now, his pace slowing just enough for you to speak.

“You know what you’re here for, don’t you little one? Our Wooyoung’s explained it to you well?” Hongjoong asks, kissing you on the neck, his canines nicking at your smooth, fragrant flesh.

You let out a whine, adrenaline coursing through your veins, “Yes…he…everything…told me.”

Hongjoong laughs at your incoherence, finding it quite adorable, “And this is what you want? To let us have our way with you?” He releases one of your breasts, twisting the bud one last time before his hand's gliding down your body to grab handfuls of your belly. “To let us fill you with our seed and let it grow so that we’ll be, all of us, a family?”

You’re fixated on him, a constellation of tears twinkling on your lashes, “I want it. I want this.”

“Aah, then we shouldn’t waste any more time” Hongjoong sighs, gesturing to Seonghwa, “Let’s take her together, shall we?”

Seonghwa’s tongue retreats slowly from your core in an S motion that makes the tip lash sharply at your walls on its way out. The space between you and the pit below begins to close, all current information misleading you to believe the arms you fall into will belong to Hongjoong.

“Relax your body and watch the skies” Seonghwa instructs as you fall against his chest and the vines between the stone walls climb their way up the ceiling. They radiate a vibrant amethyst, the sprouting emerald flowers emitting a sparkling dust that mists through the air. A trail of it drifts down the wall, drawing your attention to the shadows cast upon it by the light of the candles.

That’s when you see it. The silhouette of the creature crawling its way up your body. You’ve yet to feel him but he’s there, advancing up your figure, twisted horns brushing your cheek as it’s face meets yours. Hongjoong takes you carefully by the throat, tilting your head to face him in his human form, “The skies not the shadows, pet. Never our shadows.” It isn’t a threat and it need not be. Your obedience is promised, sealed with a kiss richer than any wine.

Hongjoong’s mouth sips hungrily from yours as he spreads your legs, the swollen head of his cock leaking arousal as it stretches your already soaked core. “Mmphmm” you whine between his lips, your lids squeezing shut the further he pushes into you. He grants pleasure to your walls unlike any the earthly realm could bring. He seems to transform inside of you, shifting into whatever he must to perfectly fill every ridge of your delicate pussy.

Your body wants to clench around him, to feel him as completely as it can but, no matter how hard you try, an invisible barrier prevents it. Anatomy 101 dictates that, with the size of what you’ve taken, there should be not a centimeter of free space. By all means you should be screaming in agony, not pouring out such blissful moans. But, as Woo said, you were made for this and so there’s room still when Seonghwa’s palms come to rest behind your knees, hips rising to lift his pulsing length into your warmth.

Your eyes fall open and Hongjoong breaks from the kiss, freeing you to gurgle and moan as you at last watch the skies. There’s no need for clenching now, no possible way for you to do so. Buried deep within you, they exist both as one and as two. As one when they thrust into you, their demonic growls contrasting the lightness of your moans. As two when they split at the head, charting their own courses to punish your tender nerve endings.

Seonghwa nuzzles against your neck, licking beads of sweat from your shoulder before it extends down to trace your collarbone. Hongjoong cups one of your breasts, fingertips digging into its plushness as he purses his lips around your nipple, suckling at the bud. Seonghwa’s tongue envelopes your other breast, the tip of his tongue circling your nipple.

Your body’s overcome with an unnatural heat that ravages you like a wildfire. Your mind’s whirling as you think of everything and nothing at once. Your teary eyes remain glued to the skies—always the skies, never their shadows—and your senses begin to shift. No longer are you smelling the honeyed scent of the flowers, you’re tasting it. And what you smell are colors, amethyst and emerald now aromatic as if they were herbs.

“You are such a beauty to behold” Hongjoong’s voice praises, breaking through the fractured barriers of your mind.

Seonghwa’s voice coasts in after his. “We haven’t felt this alive in centuries” it says, tickling your consciousness as does the breath at the back of your neck. “Maybe we could keep her like this. Whining and quivering between us. Forever our plaything. Would you like that, darling?”

Hongjoong dips a hand between your legs, gathering your slick and dragging his drenched fingers across your lips. His laughter rings out in your head, “I think she likes the idea of it. Maybe…”

“Aaah!” you let out a scream that cracks to pieces in your throat. You’re hit with a rush that makes you feel absolutely feral, your nails thrashing at Hongjoong’s back as it overtakes you.

“Good girl” he coos, unphased by the blood trickling from his wounds, “Come your pretty little brains out for us.”

Seonghwa allows your legs to drop, strips of silk reaching up to coil around your ankles. His arms come around your waist, keeping you in place to fuck into you harder and faster. Thrusting. Pulsing. Claiming you. Flooding you with their seed until it’s spilling from your core and you’re coming all over their cocks, soaking them in your juices. Never in your life have you felt this perfect. This complete.

It’s impossible to differentiate between the labored breathing shared between the three of you. Even as you drift down from your high your breaths all sound as if they’ve left the same body. You arrived at this place a human but maybe now not as much. A part of you has been given away and, if it means feeling this way forever, you don’t want it back.

Seonghwa softly brushes your hair away from your cheek, showering it in kisses, “You’ll rest with us now.”

“Don’t be afraid” Hongjoong says, kissing his way down your tummy, “It can get a bit dark down here.”

“Down where?” you ask weakly before you’re snatched beneath the surface of the pit. Instinctively you begin flailing your limbs in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from drowning but your panic’s soothed by the two sets of arms cuddling up to you.

Surrounded by their warmth, you let the darkness swallow you and drift off to sleep.

♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ 2. Despertar ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰ ♰

“Woo!” you scream, shooting upright, your heart pounding in your ears. You can’t fathom how long you’ve been asleep, the finer details of the previous events lost in the haze of sleep. You look around for Woo, for any of them, but you’re met only with the light, sparkling mist that hung from the ceiling above the pit.

Stretching your aching legs you feel something slink across them. “Wh…what is this?” you gasp, watching the fluorescent vines curiously explore your figure. Flower buds bloom as the vines reach between your legs, curving to ride your thighs up and around your torso.

“Pretty aren’t they?” Woo asks, appearing behind you without a sound.

“Woo, you scared me!” you pout, tempted to elbow him in the shin for frightening you so terribly.

Woo crouches down to loop his arms around you from behind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be so easily frightened all things considered” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder. A graceful wave of his hand and he’s plucked a flower from the vine, twirling it before your eyes. You marvel at its beauty, the emerald glow creating a halo around your irises.

“Where do these come from?” you ask, brimming with wonder.

There’s a rustling in a nearby corner, the silhouette of a broad shouldered man emerging from the darkness. He smiles at you as he steps into the light of the mist, striking you with his features. Woo tucks the flower behind your ear, pointing to the approaching man. “They come from the mountain.”

The man kneels before you, his dimpled cheeks inches from your face, and the vines tighten around you at his will. “But you can call me San” he says, obviously as smitten with you as you are with him. “Are you ready for us, love?”

You swallow hard and take your last full breath of air before the vine’s snug around your neck. “Yes, mmm, ready” you moan softly, surrendering to the strength of the vines.

San takes you by the chin, his thumb tracing your jawline, “Hmm, breaking you will be fun. Just try not to look down too much. Might get lightheaded.”

“Down?” you ask, glancing around at the bed of vines. You put all of your focus into watching them, searching for something you might’ve missed. But they’re as they were before, humming and glowing, doing their master’s bidding.

San guides your head in the opposite direction, revealing the pit of writhing black silk and the room illuminated with candles.

“Oh, darling, haven’t you figured it out yet? You aren't down there anymore” Wooyoung laughs, tossing a flower into the air and watching it drift down into the pit, “You’re up here.”

#ateez au #ateez smut #ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #choi san x reader #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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leclerc-hs · 7 months

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lucky pt. 2 - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend, are most definitely in love, but it's too complicated (or is it?) Warnings: most french edited by @softtdaisy (shoutout to her!!), SMUT, angst, 18+, not proofread Word Count: 2,695 Author's Note: I absolutely loved writing this!! I know I said I would wait for the poll to end but I think we can just do bonus scenes in the future if wanted!! xoxo PART 1 BONUS

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Imbécile,” Idiot. Arthur throws a piece of his balled-up napkin, hitting you right in the face. “Maman wants you there, pas d’excuses.” No excuses.

It had been almost two weeks since you and Charles last spoke. The both of you far too stubborn to bring up the argument you last had. Instead, you ignored the problem at hand. By not seeing each other. Sunday dinner at Pascale’s was a weekly occurrence. One that you failed to attend last week, and it was shame on you if you missed another because of Charles.

You release a heavy sigh, acknowledging that you’re about to yield and head over to Pascale’s. After all, it’s not entirely her fault that her son seems to be obvlious to certain things.

“Il est fou amoureux de toi!” He is in love with you! Arthur exclaims softly as he notices your eyes won’t stray from the icy window of the café you are both seated in. You felt your throat tighten at the phrase.

“Ce n’est pas grave, Arthur,” It doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Him being in love with you wasn’t always enough, or so you thought. He could barely commit to his ex-girlfriend. Could he commit to you? You couldn’t handle losing him if it didn’t work out. It was a recipe for disaster to begin with.

The two of you didn’t realize how dark it was already getting. Meaning you were for sure late to Pascale’s.

“Tu viendras avec moi?” Will you come with me?

“Bien sur.” Of course. You couldn’t not go. One, because you knew nothing but seeing Pascale will put a smile on your face. Two, Arthur wouldn’t let you leave this café without dragging you to his Maman’s first.

It was a short drive from the café to Pascale’s place. The limited size of the principality made the journey quick, allowing you to take in the charming scenery along the way. As you approached Pascale’s home, a smile graced your lips at the sight of the festive decorations adorning the steps.

Pascale’s touch was evident in the small Christmas trees, their lights casting a warm glow that sparkled beside the front door. The holiday spirit infused the air, creating a sense of coziness and anticipation.

The warmth of Pascale’s home enveloped you as Arthur swung the door open. His hand gently found its place on the small of your back, guiding you inside with a gesture that spoke of familiarity and care.

He assisted you in shedding the layers of clothes you wore. Your scarf and jacket were in his hands, swiftly finding their place on the nearby coat rack. Amidst the exchange, laughter bubbled up, a spontaneous reaction to the slightly comical struggle Arthur faced in unraveling the scarf from your neck.

The sound of shared laughter echoed through the entrance and into the home, allowing the others to become alert of your presence.

“Que se passe t’il?” What’s going on? You felt your laugh stop almost instantly.

Charles’ question hung in the air, and for a moment you were caught off guard. The warmth of Pascale’s cozy home surrounded you, but the sudden seriousness in his tone made you pause. You looked into his eyes, searching for any hints of the playful banter that usually characterized your interactions.

He stood not too far away, a soft white hoodie and a casual pair of jeans on. You felt your heart clench with want. You missed him. You wanted to hug him and never let go.

“Rien, juste une journée un peu folle,” Nothing, just a bit of a crazy day. You replied with a sheepish smile. Your attempt to brush off the question with a casual response didn’t escape Charles notice. He studied your face for a moment, trying to decipher your emotions.

Arthur, sensing some tension, guided you towards the living room and past Charles. As you both settled into the inviting cushions, the crackling sounds from the fireplace filled the room with a soothing rhythm.

Pascale entered the room carrying two glasses of wine. “Ma fille,” My girl she says, a term of endearment feeling much like a warm embrace to you. Pascale handed you one of the glasses with a tender smile, sealing the gesture with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Charles’s unease didn’t go unnoticed as he took a seat on the sofa across from you and Arthur. The atmosphere seemed charged with tension, and Pascale’s seemingly casual question carried a weight that went beyond mere curiosity.

“Est-ce que tu vois quelqu’un?” Are you seeing anybody? Pascale asked, her tone gentle but perceptive. The question, on the surface, appeared to be a routine inquiry about your romantic life. However, the underlying context hinted at a concern born out of a missed dinner and deviation from the usual routine.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as you became acutely aware of Charles’s intense gaze beside Pascale. Seated on the couch, his eyes bore into you with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very core of your being. His eyes, like embers, conveyed a myriad of emotions – curiosity, intensity, and perhaps a touch of scrutiny.

“Maman, laisse-la tranquille,” Leave her alone. Arthur speaks before you can. A sense of relief filling you up as you take a large gulp of the red wine in your glass.

Pascale scrunches her eyes at Arthur, poised to deliver a retort that only she knows. However, before any words escape her lips, the timer in the kitchen interrupts the moment. “Arthur, viens m’aider.” Come help me. Arthur gives you a sympathetic look before leaving the room following Pascale.

Lost in thought, your gaze fixates on the flickering flames within the fireplace. The dancing firelight casts shadows that capture your attention, creating a mesmerizing display that seems more captivating than acknowledging a brooding Charles, seated across from you.

“Tu ne peux pas m’ignorer éternellement,” You can’t ignore me forever. His voice interrupts your train of thought, gently pulling you back into the present moment.

The solitary sentence prompts an immediate eye roll from you. How dare he? How dare he pretend that you’re the only one at fault?

“Ne lève pas les yeux au ciel en me regardant,” Don’t roll your eyes at me. The atmosphere shifted as he rose from his seat on the couch, undoubtedly making his way to occupy the now vacant spot beside you. However, the nature of his touch became more intimate than you anticipated. His hands ventured onto your thigh, traveling higher than the boundaries of a typical friendship would permit.

In a disconcerting turn of events, his other hand gripped your jaw, redirecting your gaze to meet his. The sudden change in physical proximity and the assertiveness of his actions left palpable tension in the air.

“Vas y,” Make me. You provoked him deliberately, seeking to burrow beneath his skin, much like he had already done under yours.

“Viens chez moi.” Come home with me. It wasn’t posed as a question; rather, it was a firm demand – one you were aware you would yield to. You didn’t need to articulate your response; he could discern it just by the slow flicker of your eyes to his. Without another word, you withdrew your chin from his hands and stood up, making your way into the kitchen, and leaving him behind.

“Nous avons des choses à discuter.” We have more to discuss. You hear him say loud enough for you to hear but low enough for no one else to hear before you cross into the threshold of the kitchen.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Discuss.

You laughed mentally at the word. You and Charles were indisputably not engaging in anything resembling a discussion, that much was certain. Unless you consider the dirty phrases, he’s whispering in your ear a discussion.

“Tu es tellement sexy,” You’re so hot. Charles moans into your mouth as he pushes you onto his unmade bed, falling with you in the process. Both of your clothes were long gone— strewn along the pathway you took from his front door to his bed. “Faite pour moi, putain.” Fucking made for me.

He didn’t know where to look, darting from your thighs to your lips to your unforgettable eyes. His jaw flexed as he let out a soft growl deep in his chest as his finger hooked into the band of your delicate silk panties and ripped them from your body. “Je t’en achèterai advantage.” I’ll buy you more.

He was so impatient. Couldn’t even wait until he tossed your panties to the side before his mouth was on your center. You gasped as his lips enveloped your sensitive clit and getting a full taste of you. He moaned, dipping his tongue inside of you.

You really believed you could die right here and now. He pulled away momentarily just to look at you, glistening and moaning beneath him. It was a sight he wanted to burn in his memory forever.

“Tu me rends fou." You drive me insane.

You couldn’t stop moaning. You wanted to tell him that he was the one who drove you insane. That the feeling was more than mutual. But you were incoherent with pleasure. Incapable of words.

He curved two fingers inside of you, almost instantly rubbing your g-spot. “Yeah?” He edged you on. His words alone pushing you to the threshold of your orgasm. “Tu aimes ça?” You like that?

His words were nearly as perilous as his touch. He was smirking above you like the cocky motherfucker he was. You felt delusional as his fingers stroked your g-spot continuously that when he flipped you over and pulled you up to your knees, you let out a shriek of surprise.

You felt your orgasm closing in as he refused to let up on the assault of your clit. Your orgasm came so fast, you couldn’t even warn Charles before you were trembling all over his fingers.

“Oui, soak me.” Your orgasm was explosive, you could feel your legs shaking. Before you could even recover from the last orgasm, Charles was bringing his fingers that were coated in you to his mouth.

“J'ai vraiment besoin de toi,” I really need you. You muttered softly. The confession so raw. It made Charles heart clench with need to ravish you completely. To ruin you for anybody else.

His grip on your hips tightened as he slipped himself inside of you, eliciting a loud groan. “Mon dieu,”My God. He moaned. “Tu me fais me sentir si bien,” You make me feel so good.

Your pussy clenched tightly around him at his words. His breaths were jagged and heavy in your ear as he took you harder and harder.

“Ma salope,” My slut. He groaned, bottoming himself out. “My lucky.”

He could tell that you were there already again, the way you were squeezing him so tight and the clench of your hands trying to support you on the mattress.

“C’est si bien que ça?,” Is it that nice? “Gonna come for me?”

You did. Your eyes wet with tears from the intensity as his hands squeezed your hips, leaving bruises. He didn’t stop the assault on your pussy, kept pounding into you. He was ruthless.

He threw his head back with a string of curses before pressing soft kisses to your back. He didn’t bother to pull out. He wanted you full of him. In all ways, shapes, and forms. He was selfish. You were thankfully on the pill. He held himself there for a few moments before pulling out and rolling you over to your back so you could face him. He buried his face into your neck, leaving small gentle kisses as you both caught your breath.

Eventually Charles was able to find the strength to stand and clean you up, pressing a warm cloth to your center as he peppered small kisses to the inside of your thighs. You felt your heart flutter as he tossed the cloth into the hamper and joined you back in the bed, pulling you into his chest under the covers.

You could feel his mind was running a million miles a minute as he traced small circles on your skin. He wanted to ask if you went on any other dates. But he couldn’t handle if you said yes.

“Qu’est-ce que tu as en tête?” What’s on your mind? You asked.

You were preparing for yet another fight. There was no escaping it any longer. The only sound that filled the air was both of your breathing.

“Je veux que tu sois mienne.” I want you to be mine. As you lay on his chest, you sensed his heartbeat quickening. In response, a soft laugh escaped you, uncertain of how to reply. The weight of your reaction hung heavy in the air, adding more pressure.

You had to put a stop to this. You felt the panic constricting your throat. You couldn’t continue down this path with him. As you tried to sit up and distance yourself from Charles, his hand swiftly seized your arm, compelling you back towards him. He was determined to make you stay, refusing to let you escape from this conversation any longer.

“Non, arête de fuir le sujet,” No, stop running away from it. He insisted, urging you to stop evading it. “Il sait déjà que tu m’aimes,” I already know that you love me. He declared, his words rushing out of him uncontrollably. It was as if he couldn’t halt the flow, a sense of panic palpable in his voice.

You loved him; it wasn’t a secret. Fear held you back. The thought of losing him permanently if things didn’t work out was too daunting. So, you’ve tried to maintain a distance, but it was futile. It was as if he had become your vital source of oxygen – indispensable. You found yourself inextricably linked; your souls entwined.

“Je ne veux pas te perdre!” I don’t want to lose you. You felt the words rush out of your mouth in a frenzy. His touch, his stare, this conversation was all too much to handle.

“Je t’aime!” I love you! He repeated it over and over. He wouldn’t stop. You could see the anger forming in his face with each proclamation he made. He was angry. Why wouldn’t you listen? Why wouldn’t you believe him?

“Je suis bien avec toi!” I feel good when I’m with you!

“Tu me plait!” You make me happy!

“J’ai envie de t’embrasser!” I want to kiss you!

“Sans toi, je ne suis rien!” Without you, I am nothing!

“Tu es l’amour de ma vie!” You’re the love of my life!

“Je veux passer ma vie avec toi!” I want to spend my life with you!

“Mon dieu, I even breathe better when I’m with you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, but he persisted, like a broken record playing an urgent message. His need for you to understand was palpable. He laid bare his soul, expressing that if it wasn’t for you, it would be no one. The pain in his chest mirrored the intensity of his emotions.

His hands held you tightly, rendering you incapable of moving. He needed you close. In response, you brought your hands to his face, swiftly pressing your lips against his.

You felt him grab your face during the kiss, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes in the process.

“You’re mine. My lucky,” he broke the kiss. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your gazes locked, and you held each other’s eyes for an extended moment, as if attempting to decipher the entirety of each other’s thoughts through this intense connection.

“Oui?” He asked softly, seeking confirmation. He needed to hear you say you were his, a moment he had been waiting for his entire life. He knew he had you now. But he wanted your words.

You recognized there was no longer an option to escape. You belonged to him, and it wasn’t up for discussion. He possessed your heart and soul entirely. You knew that you needed to take a risk. A risk for him.

You nodded your head slowly, “Oui.”

TAG LIST: @harrysdimple05 @rachyroo-99 @rana030

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #lucky

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yawnderu · 14 days

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Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part VI

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Simon Riley is, like any other man who has been in the military for long enough and seen the horrors of war, a man who struggles. Struggles with feelings, actions, words, nightmares. The constant reminder that his career—the very same thing that made him grow a pair and go from a scared little boy to a proper lad—was what ultimately cut his family’s life short, weighed heavy on his shoulders, holding him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Despite how much he tried to hide his own feelings from both you and himself, that icy gaze that seemed to be focused on nothing for hours and the lingering silence, along with the tired smiles he forced himself to give you no matter how awful his nightmares were the night before made it clear things were only getting worse.

Whatever was out there was oftentimes merciful enough to give him good dreams every once in a while, his psyche drowned in a sea of what the future could have been. A future with his family, a future with you. No matter how difficult things got in the black, buzzing mess that was his head, he saw his daughter and you like a beacon, a Star of Bethlehem during those dark, cold nights.

The sound of stirring bed sheets is what originally wakes you up, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always linger on Simon’s body overwhelms your senses the longer you’re awake, slowly coming back to your senses. A groan, and more shifting from your left.

“Simon.” Your voice is soft and even, hands feeling around the bed sheets until you find his shaking body. In the past, Simon used to sleep on the couch, refusing to go back to his apartment just so he could spend more time with you and your daughter, yet after Johnny’s death, the pain and trauma was always clear in his eyes, ending up with you offering to let him sleep in the same bed.

Simon’s body feels extremely warm, a thin layer of sweat covering his burly frame, seeping through his clothes and into your fingers as you shake him harder, the room dimly lit with the bright moonlight peering from the window. You can see his features scrunching up, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck and forehead becoming more prominent as he relives what is likely yet another traumatic moment in his life.

“Simon.” You repeat with more urgency this time, your body shifting closer to his in order to shake him firmly, watching as his eyes flew open, dilated pupils looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a mask of deception quickly taking over his visage as you see him force himself to appear more relaxed despite the fast-drumming of his pulse you can still feel beneath your fingers, his chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Did I wake you up?” Despite how awful his nightmares were, Simon’s priority was always you. His kindness isn’t just fake sympathy, it’s the real thing.

“No, I was reading something.” A little white lie that at the very least eased his concerns. Your hand squeezes the tense mass of muscle on his shoulder with such gentleness that he wasn’t used to, not after a year of being alone after breaking up with you.

The corners of his lips tug up into a tight-lipped, tired smile, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly, trying to hold it together for your sake. His eyes examine yours for any hints of disgust, any hints that you may have seen just how disgusting he could be during those nightmares, his mind still fragmented thanks to Roba’s torture, never seeming to heal no matter how many years go by.

Your fingers work overtime on trying to ease the knots formed on his muscles from the strain it takes to hold it together when you’re looking at him with so much trust and concern, not an ounce of disgust in you despite how ashamed he feels. His eyes momentarily drift away from you, focusing on the baby monitor, the tiny screen displaying your sleeping daughter, the living image of innocence, serving as a soothing balm for his broken soul.

“Bad dream?” How lucky he is, that even crushed under the weight of looming grief and enough trauma to last him several lifetimes, he has someone to care about him, to care for him. His exhausted eyes leave the baby monitor, staring up at the ceiling as he finally allows himself the chance to take in your tender touch, the genuine kindness showing through your soft massage and concern, no matter how much of a bastard he was for leaving you.

“Yeah.” You know better than to press him about it, too familiar with him to know if he wants to talk about his issues, he will. You lean closer to him, your head now resting on his pillow and your arm draped over his stomach, your body moving on nothing but pure muscle memory from four years of dating him.

From this short distance, you’re able to admire the man that Simon Riley truly is. His short brown hair, the thin, pale scars adorning his visage, and the wrinkles that are starting to become more prominent as he ages, war and stress making him appear older than he actually is, yet looking as handsome as ever. His rough, calloused hand goes up to hold yours, fingers intertwining with the same muscle memory your body performed.

It has been months since Simon came back into your life, the knowledge of the fact that he now has a daughter always made him stick around, not wanting to miss a single moment from the tiny bundle of joy that seems to adore him, a brave little girl who was as spunky as her mother, and as stubborn as her father.

“‘Bout Roba, again.” He finally admits after seconds of silence. Manuel Roba, a name you’re unfortunately familiar with. The same man who tortured Simon and his mates for months on end, allowing him to escape and to feel a sense of false security, giving him the chance to have a proper family for once with his father out of the picture, just to rip everything that held him together from his hands.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His head shakes, signaling a no. The pads of your fingers run over his bruised knuckles in a calming fashion, tracing tiny, random patterns before his free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest now that he’s laying on his side. There’s hesitation in his actions, yet his soul is filled with relief the moment you let go of his hand, just to circle his waist with one of your arms.

“‘M sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. There’s way too many things he needs to atone for, and he will be as patient as they come.

“I’m sorry for leavin’. I was scared, didn’t want to mess you up.” He knows his absence did the opposite, and the idea of you giving birth without him present always shattered his soul. If only he had known about your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have broken up with you, never would have left.

His chapped lips plant a comforting lip on your forehead, his warm hands running up and down your back, looking to soothe you as he can hear your breath hitch, salty tears already rimming your eyes. Your face is buried against his chest, lightly feeling his fast-beating heart as he holds you even closer, his eyes fluttering shut at finally having you in his arms again.

“I missed you.” The shakiness in your voice breaks his heart even further, his soul being ripped apart by his own selfish, awful decisions.

“I missed you too, sweet girl.” He manages to whisper out despite the way he’s getting choked up, his arms circling your form even more when your shoulders begin to shake. Warm, salty tears bleed through his clothes as he holds you as close as possible, squeezing your frame even tighter before he’s back to rubbing your back up and down, looking into spreading the warmth emanating from his large frame.

“So fuckin’ much.” Another gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, holding you for as long as you need— for as long as he needs, too. You both lose track of time, simply caressing and giving each other much needed comfort, bringing you back to the ways you comforted each other back when you were dating after an awful day, all the crying and warmth coming from his body eventually exhausting you, idly playing with the fabric of his black shirt.

“Can I…” There’s clear doubt in his words, and despite the fact that his exhaustion matches yours, there’s one last thing he wants to do. You lift your head, brown eyes meeting your gaze. You could drown in those eyes— in the way they always seem so loving and kind, so gentle despite how brutal you know he can be as a soldier… and yet that’s Ghost, not Simon, you remind yourself.

His hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ultimately pushing himself to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your soft, warm skin, still moistened by tears. You get the message almost instantly, yet admiring Simon when he looks so unsure of himself steals your attention for once.

A small nod of affirmation meets his words, and Simon doesn’t waste any time, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours for a few seconds before his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, the hand on your cheek caressing your skin gently, his eyes fluttering shut.

[PREVIOUS]

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ja3hwa · 7 months

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♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡

Day 31 : Trick Or Teat

【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.

『Word count』 : 7.01k

-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader]

[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.

I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡

Check out the mini series masterlist -> [Here]

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two

The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.

Vampires.

You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.

You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.

"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.

Why, you may ask?

Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.

"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."

His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.

"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.

“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.

“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.

“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.

“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.

Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.

What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.

“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.

You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.

You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.

This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.

His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”

His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.

A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”

Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.

“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.

You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.

“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”

Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.

He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”

His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”

The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”

You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.

A blood sucking vampire.

You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….

“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.

Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—

"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.

"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...

"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.

So there's three of them that live here?

"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.

"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.

He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."

You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."

"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."

You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."

Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”

Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”

Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.

There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.

Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.

Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.

“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.

“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.

“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.

And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.

“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.

“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.

“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.

“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.

“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?

“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.

“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.

“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?

“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.

“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.

“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”

His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.

“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.

“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…

“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.

“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.

“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.

The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.

“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.

“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.

“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”

“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.

“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”

You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”

“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.

“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.

You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.

“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.

“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”

The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”

You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”

“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.

Pathetic human. Digusting pig.

Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.

“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”

Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.” he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”

The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.

“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.

“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.

He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.

-♥︎

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tarot-bimbo · 29 days

Text

PICK A PILE♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

What does your future spouse look like?

1. 2. 3.

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Pile 1

Okay so pile one I am seeing someone who works out he or she is most definitely strong they could pick you up. I am seeing like 5'11 he could be that height or shorter I am hearing short king 👑 this person is definitely not so tall they could even be shorter than you actually. But you like that obviously, this person is gonna be your Husband most definitely gonna try to put a ring on your finger REALLY fast. You got lots of wands and swords so I am taking that as he definitely is not gonna disappoint you in bed and if this is a girl then she definitely has a wap lmao one of you may get shy a lot. There could be an age gap I am seeing short hair maybe black or white curly. He could be Italian or from Germany? He could like the beach a lot when you do get with this person he is most definitely gonna take you to his favorite place on the beach. He could also live by water or you two will meet by water. He's rich like not Beyonce rich but he doesn't have to work ya know? He's I can see he has chest hair and if you are a man reading this she definitely has really bug breast or really small. If you are a man reading this I think you definitely have a thing for milfs or they flock towards you and if you are a woman a lot of older men throw themselves on you or that's just what you prefer. They definitely have a big house. Possibly does gymnastics. They could also wear a lot of red or layered clothing. For men I am seeing a girl who mostly wears long dresses and for the woman I am seeing a man in formal get up honestly or like really layered clothing like the aesthetic boys you may see on Pinterest with the baggy layered cloths and stuff. Whoever they are they can dress. They like to cover up a lot tho maybe a cancer I thought of a crab going in their shell suddenly. They definitely also have a high role in their workspace and could even own their own business. Big bosses are what they call themselves 🤣. They have a very heavy accent probably not from the same place you are. Probably an earth sign. I rolled my zodiac dice and you got Aries,Virgo and Gemini.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

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Pile 2

Okay so pile twooo Already I am getting your person is loud and their personality. They keep you guessing. They definitely party,like the party doesn't start until they arrive. Your person is definitely clumsy I almost mixed two tarot decks😵‍💫. Definitely day dreams a lot they are very care free they might see the world as one day it's gonna end why not ruin it first? Okay so this person talks a LOT like never a dull moment with them tho. They could travel a lot honestly I ain't getting a lot on look but like green eyes dark hair and eyes, you may think their eyes are very intense and intimidating. They like wearing a lot of hats tho they could possibly be 25 and up. He works he's not rich or anything but he can most definitely spoil you. They definitely like touching you in public and being in nature. They are a lot to even handle not gonna lie but they are also very closed off. They don't want to tell me too much they like surprises and they know you probably hate waiting and stuff. I am also seeing dark red hair like cherry red. He's talking about how he dyed his own hair and has to mix multiple colors. I think you or them might like both genders. Heavy on loving animals might even be an Instagram influencer. I am seeing you two are closer than you think 🤔 my phone buzzed as confirmation on that. They will always be on the phone with you texting FaceTime regular calls it doesn't matter as long as you two are talking. I rolled my astrology dice to see what zodiac sign you would get and I got Aquarius,Libra and Scorpio so these could be in their birth chart.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

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Pile 3

Okay so right off back he may look like that dude from Ghostbusters Dan Aykroyd but when he was in his prime. They are on the thicker side and honestly they just might work a lot then go home and do nothing 😅 I am seeing you are the one to spice up there life might even be a chef. He has longer hair definitely not black but not honey blonde more so like a dirty blonde or like a golden brown. He likes to garden and build things. They are the type of you say that your car was messed up could fix it even if they are a woman this could shock the shit out of you. They could look like total dork glasses and everything. Favorite movie could be revenge of the nerds. I am getting a lot of older references and shit oop they definitely have a potty mouth 🫢. But I think both of you are older than most ( please don't take that the wrong way 💖) or just really have a thing for old stuff. They definitely live in the city but when they get with you I see you two might move in a place with more land and green fields I heard like Oregon but I have no idea what that place looks like 😅. I used my astrology dice to find out potential zodiac signs. Aquarius, Libra, Capricorn. You got two of the same zodiacs from pile 2 might wanna rest that too or not 🤪.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

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(if you are looking for a private reading please let me know mwah(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠))

I hope you enjoyed this pick a pile♡

#tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot #love reading #general reading #twin souls #twinsoulflame #soulmates #couple #tarot pick a pile #tarot pick a card #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot blog #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #tarot tumblr

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cntloup · 2 months

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what do you think simon’s type would be? i love your work btw 🫶🥹

ooh this is interesting😃 thank you luv glad you like my work🥰💗 i'm sorry this got so long i went on a rant about how he would enter a relationship in general🙃

so i think for the most part, he'd avoid relationships altogether. not because he wouldn't want to pass on the curse that has been cast on him to another person. i think he's rational and knows that there's no curse here. yes, he's been unfortunate his whole life but it's something that has just happened. so one reason would simply be that he doesn't have time to maintain a relationship. but of course there's a more profound reason and it's that he's a broken man. he knows that it would be really difficult to be in a relationship with him. and it would be very difficult for him to trust someone enough to let them in. so yeah it would be highly unlikely.

and i don't see him as the type to go for one-night stands that much either. i'd say a moderate amount maybe to release some pent up energy after deployments.

if it ever happens and he falls in love, it will be a slooow burn. like it would take a reallyyy long time. and it would be with someone whom he sees regularly. not necessarily in his own line of work but maybe a neighbor, some coffee shop worker or a librarian etc. someone whom he can form a friendship with first. he needs to dip his toes in to test the waters first before diving into a relationship. so yeah i think it would be friends to lovers for him.

and i don't think your style would matter to him at all. coquette, tomboy, whatever you are, it's your personality that matters to him. of course he would fawn over your style too once you're in a relationship, but it wouldn't be a part of his criteria for entering a relationship.

and personality wise, he would never tolerate a crybaby at all. someone who whines and wails over minor stuff would irritate him to no end. so it would be someone who has a somewhat rough and tough layer to them. not as extreme as him of course, he wouldn't expect that from anyone.

and of course someone who has a certain darkness within them. so in this case, someone similar to him, with a traumatic past. again, not as extreme as him of course. but to some extent, carrying a bit of baggage. so they would understand the pain and torment he carries within his heart every second of the day and the toll it takes on him. so they can be patient with him as he lets them in gradually to peel off the layers that he has built over the years one by one.

that being said, he would be extremely protective. yes, you're strong and tough, a little fucked up in the head and you can handle yourself perfectly, but that doesn't mean you have to. he would step in the moment he notices your discomfort in any situation. he would take mental notes of every single one of your triggers, however minor, and he'd protect you and take you away from any situation that would cause even an ounce of discomfort to you.

i might change my mind about this in the future but this is my opinion rn :)

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bailadeluna · 2 months

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there’s something so brilliant in cooper howard’s costume design - it’s so much more than just a simple blue and gold cowboy fit.

at the beginning of the show, before the bombs dropped, cooper howard was a good person - always kind to others despite the circumstances or how he was feeling in the moment.

you could say… he was exemplifying the golden rule.

this is evident in his costuming - cooper is decked out in gold even when the bombs dropped. the golden rule is still so close to his heart - i mean come on - look at how tight that bandana is around his neck.

even in certain lighting, his hat looks gold.

cooper howard being a good person and living by the golden rule is what barb probably fell in love with (she has her own interesting character analysis and thought process which i would love to discuss later). because this trait is so admired by her and those around cooper, she probably saw him as who she would hope future generations would become as they grow up in the vaults. people like him are the better future she envisions - so it’s no coincidence that the vault suit is in his colors.

what does the blue symbolize?

well, to me, i think it’s the corporate presence in the world. there’s more blue in the suit than there is gold - hinting at vaultech’s corporate greed, capitalism, and evil machinations. (there was also blue in his old cowboy costume - i.e. the presence of the studio and how they use cooper to push a mccarthyism narrative. kinda in the same way vaultech will use him)

the blue in the suit - symbolizing vaultech’s overwhelming presence and the reason for such a bleak and cruel world - does not swallow up the gold - the small semblance of humanity’s capacity to do and be good. it’s the small hint at barb’s intentions (analogous to the road to hell being paved with good intentions).

yet the man who was an inspiration for vaultech’s workers - the man who they all wished they could be like, the man who symbolized all the “do good” ideas they pass down to their children but in the end have no intention of following them (wink wink, looking at you, hank) - was in the end stripped of all his humanity by the world vaultech created (wow, would you look at that? another analogy for capitalism!)

this man, once rich in morals now robbed of them all, wanders the wasteland a ghoul. everything has been taken from him - symbolized being devoid of layers of skin.

now, he’s nothing but the ghost of the man he once was - haunted by what has been done. everything he wears as the ghoul is frayed, tattered, and dark - symbolizing that cooper howard, that kind and caring man before the bombs is dead.

but wait - is that…

you don’t see it? Ok, i’ll zoom in some more

GOLD? (perhaps even the same shirt he was wearing during the bomb drop??)

perhaps the golden rule, those values that he once held so dearly, are still there just dormant - waiting to be awaken again.

maybe cooper howard can come back… that just maybe there’s still hope for the good in humanity…

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eyesthatroll · 8 months

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my love, mine all mine | quinn hughes

pairing: qh43 x fem!reader

warning(s): kissing, established relationship, nothing else i think. barely edited

summary: a lil somethin’ i wrote while listening to my love mine all mine by mitski

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: i am the most tired i have ever been right now and i have to get up in an hour or two for a ten hour shift 😔 but i hope you enjoy this lil number, it’s my first time writing for quinn n i hope i did alright. as usual, sending my love. go canucks! —mari

Yawning softly, you nestled yourself deeper into Quinn's warm embrace, allowing your eyelids to gently shut as you turned your back to the crackling fire. The animated conversation among the boys continued, the sound providing a soothing backdrop to the peaceful moment. Quinn's right hand moved in soothing circles on your back, while his other hand held onto a half-finished beer, the cool glass a stark contrast to the warmth you found in his arms.

During the sporadic lulls in the conversation, the mellowness of country music, Jack's choice, enveloped the space. The soulful chords of "Tennessee Whiskey" by Chris Stapleton, dominating the atmosphere. As you rested against Quinn's comforting presence, he quietly hummed along with the song, his voice adding a subtle layer to the music just low enough for only you to hear. Your fingers aimlessly toyed with the drawstring of his gray sweatpants, a futile effort to battle the creeping fatigue that had been amplified by the day's events. You were determined not to squander the night by retiring early, as the impending end of summer loomed overhead, casting a bittersweet shadow as it heralded the departure of everyone you loved, including your boyfriend of nine months.

Lowering his head, Quinn tenderly places a kiss on your forehead, his affectionate gesture infused with fondness and adoration. His hushed voice carries a gentle suggestion as he speaks to you, "Why don't you go up to bed, Baby-Doll?"

In response, you lightly shake your head, brushing aside his words. "I'm okay."

He doesn't press further, recognizing that your decision to head to bed will likely come only when he joins you. Nevertheless, he doesn't mind this compromise. Every moment in your embrace is precious to him, particularly with the imminent knowledge that in a week, he'll be heading back to Vancouver while you remain here. He keeps his inner turmoil hidden, unwilling to burden you with his feelings, but the strain of a long-distance relationship is slowly taking a toll. With your final year of university on the horizon, he hopes that you might consider moving to Vancouver with him, yet he's well aware of the magnitude of that request and the challenge it poses to both of you, so he's yet to bring it up.

Quinn spends the next twenty minutes or so caught in his head, his thoughts consumed by you and the possible future you might share. He absentmindedly nods at whatever topics the boys are discussing, their voices blending into a background hum as he drifts through his contemplations. In his mind, he envisions the two of you sharing a home, the two of you building a family together, and he can't help but smile at the idea, even if it remains unsaid in the midst of the casual banter.

"What do you think, Q?" Trevor asks, raising a beer to Quinn from across the flickering fire pit, where the warm glow dances in the darkness.

Quinn blinks, momentarily drawn from his reverie. "Huh?"

The group shares a collective chuckle, their laughter adding to the background melody of the evening. "Another beer, you want one?" Josh offers, extending a cold bottle towards Quinn.

A sudden hush fell over the group as they waited for his answer, emphasizing the gentle, rhythmic snores that escaped your lips. You looked utterly enchanting, cocooned in an old, oversized Michigan sweater of his, your delicate features half-hidden beneath your tousled curls. The dancing firelight painted your silhouette with warm, flickering hues, casting a soft, otherworldly glow around you.

In that poignant moment, as he looked down at you, all Quinn yearned for was to steal you away to your shared room. Just the two of you, wrapped in the comforting embrace of the warm duvet. He offered a tired smile. "No, actually, gonna call it for the night." The murmured words sounded like a gentle promise to both himself and the alluring vision before him.

You had always been a notoriously light sleeper, a trait Quinn found endearing. It was, therefore, a genuine surprise to him that you didn't stir the moment he scooped you into his arms and began carrying you into the house. However, as he carefully closed the screen door behind him, its echo resonated through the stillness of the house, and you stirred to consciousness. Blinking your eyes open, an expression of confusion graced your features as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Your voice, soft and laden with sleep, slipped through your lips. "Quinn?"

"Goin' to bed, Baby-Doll," Quinn replies simply, his gaze momentarily fixated on you before he turns his attention to the path ahead, ensuring a safe ascent up the stairs with you in his arms.

He gently sets you down on the bed, and you flop back dramatically, savoring the comforting embrace of the sheets against your back, releasing a contented moan. Quinn chuckles at your playful display, beginning to shed his day clothes. And as much as you admired his physique, you spring out of bed, heading towards the en-suite bathroom, your intention to quickly wash your face and brush your teeth.

Soft footsteps echo through the bathroom as Quinn follows you inside, his tall and muscular frame comfortably settled in nothing but his boxers. The intimate setting feels soothing, and he joins you at the sink, standing side by side as you begin to brush your teeth.

You sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye, and a playful glint in your eyes prompts you to initiate a playful toothpaste battle. Quinn's eyes widen as you start flicking tiny drops of toothpaste toward him, and he quickly retaliates, with laughter filling the room. Soon, both of you are playfully dueling with your toothbrushes, smirking and giggling like teenagers.

After the impromptu skirmish, Quinn doesn't put up any resistance when you give him your best puppy-dog eyes and plead for the privilege of conducting your nighttime skincare routine on him.

A comfortable silence envelops you both, the bathroom's soft lighting casting a warm, intimate glow. Perched on the bathroom counter, you have Quinn standing between your legs, your feet just barely wrapped around him. With gentle motions, you apply moisturizer to his flushed skin, your fingers caressing his cheeks with care.

Quinn's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes locked onto your face with an intensity that doesn't go unnoticed. As you work the moisturizer into his skin, you can't help but sense a subtle tension in his furrowed brows, a hint that something might be bothering him. You break the tranquil silence, your teeth grazing over your bottom lip, a nervous habit surfacing. "Are you okay?" You ask, your voice tender with concern, your eyes searching his for answers.

His response comes swiftly, as if he's been waiting for the right moment to share his thoughts. "You graduate this year," Quinn replies, his voice carrying a mixture of pride and a touch of uncertainty.

Your smile beams at him, and you gently place your hands on his strong shoulders, a gesture of reassurance. "I do," you affirm with a nod.

Quinn lets out a deep, contemplative breath, his hand instinctively moving up to run through his unruly, dark brown hair. His lips part and close a couple of times, as if he's grappling with the words he wants to convey, caught in a moment of indecision.

Your sudden, sweet kiss catches him off guard, his initial surprise giving way to a warm, affectionate response. Before he can fully process the gesture, you've already withdrawn, leaving a subtle, bashful grin dancing on your lips. "What's on your mind, My Love?"

He exhales another sigh, his tongue moistening his lower lip in contemplation before he voices his admittance. "I can't stand this long-distance thing."

Your lips contort into a pained frown, and an instinctive retreat pushes you further away from him, your back connecting with the mirror's cool surface. "Are you breaking up with me?" Your voice quivers at the fear of Quinn ending things so suddenly.

His eyes widen in alarm, a rapid motion closing the gap between you as he firmly grasps your waist, pulling you back into his comforting proximity. "No, no, baby, I'm not saying that at all." He emphasizes with a reassuring tone.

Relief floods your entire being, a soothing balm to your anxieties as the erratic thud of your heart settles back into its regular rhythm.

"What would you think about moving in with me, in Vancouver after you graduate?" His head tilts to the side, a distressed look on his face as tries to gage your reaction.

You crush your lips against his once more, the fervor of your kiss matching the intensity of your emotions. A delighted grin creeps across his face as your hands weave their way into his hair. Your mouths mold together in a harmonious dance, each movement executed in perfect synchronization. A subtle exploration ensues as you lightly trace your tongue across his bottom lip, coaxing it between your teeth, which elicits a throaty moan from him. With his defenses down, he grants you access, and your tongues engage in a sensual tango, his fingers pressing into your side involuntarily.

Breathlessly, you break apart from him. "I thought you'd never ask."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you

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wkemeup · 1 year

Text

The Casket

summary: When a mission goes wrong, you’re helpless but to watch as Bucky is forced into the object of his nightmares – Hydra’s cryochamber.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 12.5k

warnings: canon level violence, nightmares, body warming tropes, pissed off reader won’t stop until she saves her man,

a/n: Here it is. The last fic in my archive. I adore you all so much. Thank you for everything 💕 In case you missed it, here’s the post on the future of this blog.

You woke to darkness. The bedroom was cast only in the dim light of stars and the pale glow of the alarm clock. It had yet to reach the witching hour. Daring a glance over the safety of warm covers, you spotted the ends of curtains dancing at the window as an icy draft escaped through the thin fabric.

It was warm the evening before, but New York weather was unpredictable in the changing seasons. The crickets chirping down by the lake had been a comfort as the sun had set. It was a glimpse of Spring on the horizon. Hours later, your breath was visible in each exhale.

Wincing as another breeze crept through the open window, you sleepily brushed your eyes. Snow blanketed the grounds. Layers of white piled onto tree branches and coated the hills behind the compound. A dusting of ice lay upon the ledge within your bedroom.

A weight shifted on the bed beside you. Bucky slept with his arms tucked tight under the pillow, a lock of hair hung over his eyes. He groaned as a shiver trembled along his spine. Gently, you traced a line with your fingertips over his brow, guiding the hair away from his eyes. His nose twitched in his sleep. He looked so young as he slept. Peaceful. Even as he shivered against the breeze.

You leaned over and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, lips grazing over his t-shirt. He seemed to relax against the touch, if only for a moment, before the cold air brushed his skin again. You cursed the frigid Northeastern weather and quickly pulled yourself from under the comfort of the sheets.

Dressed only in one of Bucky’s discarded t-shirts, the icy air was unbearable as you crossed the room. Bucky usually ran as warm as a furnace so you had little use for much fabric sleeping beside him; often, you wore less and still took easy comfort in the heat of his body.

A final breeze crept through the cracked window before you could close it, brushing against your exposed thighs. Your whole body shook with shivers and you rubbed your chilled hands down your arms in a fruitless attempt to draw warmth. Closing the window hadn’t provided the instantaneous relief you’d hoped for, but you knew Bucky would warm up soon enough. The serum all but ensured it. And you certainly didn’t need an excuse to climb into his bed and curl up against his sleeping frame.

You took only one step back toward the bed when you heard Bucky groan again – though this time it was something painful, something aching. You paused, startled by the sound. For the first time since you woke, you noticed the inflection of a whimper muffled by the pillow.

Cautiously, you inched closer to him, heart sinking as you caught sight of the deep lines on his brow and the sharp cut of his teeth into his bottom lip. You saw then how violently his right arm was shaking, his body trembling with every hollow breath.

“Bucky?” you called quietly.

You’d seen his nightmares before. The faded imprint of a scar along the left of your collarbone was proof enough of what Bucky endured in his sleep – waking to a state where he was unable to separate dream from reality, past from present, captor from lover. He hadn’t known it was you – that the shadowy figure in his room was the woman he loved and not the Hydra handler he’d known in his dreams. You often caught him tracing the scarred line upon your skin when he thought you were long asleep, carrying the guilt of what happened even years later.

But Bucky hadn’t woken from a nightmare like that in nearly a year. Stability, family, and therapy had done him good. He’d severed his connection to the Winter Soldier and the fear that his mind would slip back into that bleak, unforgiving darkness.

This... This was different.

There was no cold detachment. No grip of anger or vengeance.

What laid upon his features instead... was fear.

“Sweetheart?” You sank to your knees at the edge of the bed, bristling against the cold hardwood floors.

Bucky’s features were distorted – his brow pinching at the center, his jaw wired shut and still, his breathing was harsh in every clouded exhale. He pressed his face into the edge of the pillow to suffocate the whimper slipping through.

“Not again,” he mumbled, barely audible against the silk pillowcase. “Please... I don’t... I don’t want to... Not again...”

You drew in a shallow breath, heart sinking beyond the floorboards to the depth of the foundation below. There was a reason Bucky couldn’t stand the winter; why he insisted on keeping your room set to sweltering conditions. Every shiver on his spine – every drop of snow – brought him back to the vessel that had stolen years of his life. The tomb that had sustained him in crystalized ice like a weapon in storage until Hydra deemed him useful again.

“You’re okay. I'm here with you, baby. You're safe,” you whispered as you lifted the blanket he held clutched within his grip and slipped yourself under the covers beside him.

There was little room for comfort between Bucky and the edge of the mattress, leaving your back exposed to the chilled air. You cursed your frozen fingers as you curled yourself around him – sliding a leg between his own, wrapping your arm around his waist, tucking your nose to the crook of his neck. Clinging to him in an effort to give him as much warmth as you could offer. All of it, if your body would allow it. You’d let yourself freeze if it would grant him an ounce of relief.

It took several minutes before you could no longer see your breaths flutter against Bucky’s collar, before his body stopped shaking and the ice warmed from his skin. You did not dare to slack your grip on him in fear you might find the red imprint of your hands along his spine, tucked under the thin layer of his shirt. Even as he stilled, quiet whispers slipped through the haze of his dream – the paralyzing fear he held of the chamber that had housed him for decades.

You held onto him tighter – clung to him as if he might slip through your grasp and plummet to the icy embrace of the ravine. You held him until sweat beaded on his forehead and the spine of his shirt was damp with it. Until his heartrate began to fall to an even pace and his chest no longer rose in short, shallow gasps. Until, what felt like hours later, when his lips grazed your temple and the soft murmur of an apology shattered your heart.

You pulled back only enough to see the shame burning dark into the blue of his eyes. It seemed to suffocate the light there, burrowing claws into his spine until it dragged him a step back into the shadows. You shook your head against his collar, tucking in tighter to his frame, unwilling to deny him even a lost second of warmth.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you assured him. "I'm just holding you. That’s all. I love holding you, in fact.”

Bucky’s chest shook for a fraction of a moment with quiet laughter, though you knew very little of it would be present in his eyes. It was a distraction – a levity he needed to allow himself to move forward, to not let his feet get stuck in the mud of his past.

“I know you do,” he sighed, squeezing you a little tighter.

It was where you felt most at home – when you struggled to draw in a full breath because of how close he held you. To be completely encompassed by the warmth of his body and the security of his strength. The soft give of his right arm curled around the dip in your waist, the left draped over your shoulders. No hesitation in his embrace. No reluctance for the history of an arm that had burden him for decades. No second guesses of the love you held for him and the parts of his body he despised.

Several breaths of silence passed before he spoke again.

“You’d think I would have liked being in cryo.”

You almost flinched in his arms and you desperately hoped he did not notice the sharp catch of your breath at his words. If he did, he didn’t say anything. Gently, you slid your hand – now warmed in Bucky’s embrace – under the seam of his t-shirt and began to trace gingered lines along the curve of his spine. A gentle encouragement to continue.

Bucky swallowed as though the words tasted of bile. “They couldn’t touch me when I was in there. Couldn’t starve me or punish me. Couldn't give me orders. Couldn't put me in that... that fucking chair. I was just... nothing. Everything stopped. You’d think... You’d think it would be a relief.”

You pressed your lips to his collarbone, inching in closer though you were already pressed flush against his body. Anything to make him feel safer. To remind him that he was lying in this bed with you in his arms and not halfway across the world in a metal box lined in ice.

“It was worse,” Bucky admitted, his voice shattered as if gravel churned in his lungs. “I never knew if it would be the last time. If they’d just... forget about me or... decide I was used up and... and leave me there. At least when I was him, I could breathe. I... I had some sense of humanity. The cell they kept me in was a cage but cryo... cryo was a fucking casket. Storing me in a box like I was... like I was nothing more than a...”

He could have finished that sentence in ten different ways, each enough to break your heart worse than the last – a weapon, a monster, an object, a tool. He could have, but instead, you felt the warmth of a tense breath brush against your crown as he willed his body back to his control. His hands stopped shaking with panic, his chest taking in as much air as it would allow. Slowly, he relaxed into your arms again.

“They won’t do that to you again,” you whispered though your voice was laced in the rage you felt for the men who had induced such fear into the man you loved. “I won’t let them.”

You felt the soft curve of Bucky’s lips against your forehead. A ghost of a smile. “I know, sweetheart.”

The sliver of doubt in his voice brought tears to your eyes.

“You are safe and you are real and you are my world, okay?” you told him, hands sliding up to the sides of his face, begging him to look at you. You dared him to try and carry his doubts while you held him in your arms, while you told him you loved him so desperately. “You are everything. You’re not some weapon to be put away. You are a person. My person. I would die before I let them do that to you again. I would kill them all.”

The flicker of surprise was subtle, barely a noticeable shift in the blue of his eyes, but you saw it. For as much as you told Bucky of your love for him, he could not let go of the seed of doubt instilled in him from his time at Hydra – the doubt that convinced him he was not enough, that he was broken and shattered and unworthy of your love. But you’d remind him a dozen times if he needed it. A thousand. You’d tell him every day if only to subside the doubt for another day.

Bucky pulled you close to his chest. His lips grazed over your forehead as he whispered, “I love you,” to your hairline. His breath was warm over your skin, his embrace tightening around your waist. You knew those words did not come easily to him, that he often showed you how he felt for you more often than he was able to speak it, and you held him a little tighter in return.

Bucky sighed something that sounded of disappointment before a knock came at the door. It creaked open slowly, revealing Steve’s reluctant expression in the frame. You realized then that Bucky must have heard Steve’s footsteps approaching and tensed for the interruption, though Steve looked less than thrilled to be awake this hour as well judging by the pillow crease marks on his cheeks and the chaotic fluff of his dark blonde hair.

“Sorry guys,” Steve said, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Fury’s calling us in.”

***

The first mention of Hydra jolted whatever lingering tiredness you felt.

Bucky hardly reacted as Fury detailed the mission – a stealth op to dismantle a crucial Hydra weapons facility. It wouldn’t take more than a virus to their computer system to reduce their weapons to useless metal, but you’d need to be on-site to make it happen. It was an active base, but most of their agents were out on various assignments – opening a window for SHIELD to make a move on a vulnerable Hydra stronghold.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had been on a mission where Hydra was concerned and it certainly wouldn’t be his last, but you grieved for any pain he felt walking back amongst those halls, amongst the sort of men who enslaved him and made him to feel as if he was the monster.

Bucky would keep close to you while inside the Hydra facility, assigned as backup while you input the codes meant to unravel Hydra’s weapons supply. Steve and Natasha had their own assignment, not that the director felt the need to brief you on the details. Two birds, one stone, Fury had said. While you broke down their coding, Natasha would be downloading intel classified above your paygrade on the opposite end of the building. It didn’t make for easy backup, but there was a limited time frame to get this done undetected. And Fury trusted the four of you to get it done. And you would.

The turbulence was rough on the descent, but Bucky’s hands clenched the straps of his seat whether the jetstream was smooth or not. You glanced over at him, studying the tension in his body and the hard concentration of his gaze through the pilot’s window where Steve and Nat were talking quietly to one another.

Gently, you set a hand against his knee. Though the touch startled him, he seemed to snap out of his gaze and his shoulders slowly began to relax. A soft smile pressed on his lips, a heaviness in his eyes as silent appreciation nestled over his features. He released his hold on the straps, the movement seeming to ache in his right hand, and he opened his palm to you. You took it graciously and brought your clasped hands to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

“It’ll be fine, Buck,” you told him. “It always is.”

Bucky nodded, forcing out a smile despite the lingering hesitancy. “Of course. I get to watch my girl bring Hydra to their knees. I think I can call that a good day.”

You grinned, grateful to see his eyes brighten even as Steve landed the jet in a discreet break in the woods. His heart rate slowed the longer you held his hand, the tension in his body melting the longer he looked at you.

“Ready?” Steve called from the cockpit. Natasha had already strapped five weapons to her suit by the time Steve pulled himself out from the pilot’s seat. She sent him a teasing smirk as she unlatched the loading dock.

Bucky squared his shoulders. It would always be a challenge for him to enter a Hydra base, even as a fully certified Avenger. Whether he was housed in these halls as the Winter Soldier or not, distorted memories worked their way to the surface and often followed him home after a mission like this. Pride was not enough to describe the feeling that bloomed in your chest as Bucky swallowed back his demons and took the first step forward off the jet, leaving the fear behind him.

“You have eighteen minutes,” Nat reminded you of the plan. “Get in and get out.”

You nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Bucky. He offered you a strained smile in return.

“Eighteen minutes,” you confirmed. “We’ve got this.”

***

You felt it in your bones from the moment you stepped foot in the empty hallway. The reportedly active Hydra base was eerily abandoned. It was as if they were waiting for you.

It worsened as you made your way to the computer mainframe without interruption. No silent alarms to trip, no guards rounding the halls on duty waiting for a sliver of action. Bucky sensed it too and though he did not say a word, he kept pace a single step ahead of you, careful to check the adjoining rooms along the hall before he let you step out into the vulnerable openings.

“It shouldn’t be this easy,” you stressed as you typed away at the keyboard, inputting the codes needed to dismantle their hardware. You passed every firewall without issue. It hadn’t even been this easy during your training at the academy.

“I know,” Bucky agreed, his voice tense. He looked to the hallway; his hand still tight around his rifle. His finger had not moved from the trigger since you entered the building. “Forget the assignment. We need to get out of here. Now.”

You passed another firewall. Only two more to go.

“I’ve almost got it, Buck,” you told him. “Give me two minutes and we’re out.”

Bucky swallowed; his gaze fixed on the hall. Reluctancy furrowed his brow, but he nodded anyway. “Two minutes. And then I’m dragging you out of here, understood?”

You smirked, though you did not look up from the screen. “Yes, sir.”

It got a tense laugh out of him at least. Restrained and muffled, but still there. It was a strange thing to hear his laughter in a place like this – to know these halls had once witnessed such violence only to see his joy years later. It was a vengeance of sorts. To still hold light amongst such darkness.

As you continued to fire off code after code to shatter the computer’s defenses, Bucky hovered behind you, his pacing insistent as he trailed a path from one end of the room to the other. He couldn’t let himself stand still. Could not let his body relax for even a second. Not here.

“Got it!” You hit the final key stroke but suddenly, the screen went black. The buzzing hum of the overworked ventilation on the side of the monitor dulled to an unsettling silence.

You froze, hands still hovering over the keyboards. “That can’t be good.”

A series of clicking sounds began to rattle overhead. Your eyes darted to the ceiling as you followed the sound as if waiting for some sort of creature to drop from the airducts, as if expecting something living to be crawling its way through the ceiling tiles.

“Bucky...” you warned, backing up from the computer. He was only a few paces from the door when you heard the distinct click of locks latching into place. You spun toward him, heart pounding as he shoved his left shoulder into the door though it barely gave way under his strength. He slammed into it again, his hair falling quickly out of place, matching the growing panic on his features. The metal door fractured under the strength of vibranium but it wasn’t enough.

A bitterness burned in your nose as you drew in a shallow breath. Wincing at the sensation, your eyes trailed up to the ceiling to find a cloud of green mist billowing into the room. It coated over the entire ceiling, sinking lower and lower with every passing second. By the time you looked back to Bucky to warn him, he’d already noticed the gas and lunged toward you. His hand clamped over your nose and mouth; his breathing sporadic. You watched in horror as the gas drew into his lungs with each desperate inhale.

“Don’t breathe it in!” he shouted; his eyes already hazy, his balance swaying. “Don’t breathe it... in... Don’t...”

His hand slipped from your face as if he no longer had the strength to carry the weight of his own arm. The horror of it flashed through the sedated weight in his eyes. Slowly, his gaze lifted to yours – apology and remorse burrowed deep into the soft shades of blue. He stumbled then against the desk, trying to catch himself as his balance gave way. You dove for him, but he was too heavy for you to carry, and he crashed against the unforgiving tile with an awful thud.

“Bucky!” You slid to your knees beside him; hands desperately brushing against his cheeks, drawing the hair from his eyes, begging him to wake. You coughed through the smoke as it filled the room, green gas blinding you enough that you could hardly make out Bucky’s features as he laid mere inches from you.

Your body began to feel heavy and you knew you’d succumb to the gas soon enough. There was no word from Steve or Nat on the coms, only an eerie silence listening in. Slowly, you lowered yourself to the ground, rested your head against Bucky’s chest – as if to pretend for only a moment that it was merely sleep you sought. It was only a bad dream. By morning you would wake at home in the comfort of your shared bed.

There was no fighting the pull on your consciousness. It dragged you to the darkness as you listened to the steady thump of Bucky’s heart through the thick layers of Kevlar. Lulling you to sleep as poison filled your lungs.

***

“It’s been too long since he’s been wiped,” a voice whispered to a quiet room. Distant – like it echoed from the end of a long tunnel. “He’s too unstable like this.”

You groaned, willing your eyes to open though they felt impossibly heavy. Weight burrowed onto your limbs, paralyzing you, though you sensed it was the aftermath of whatever drug was in the green mist you’d inhaled.

Slanting your eyes open, you caught a blurred image of Bucky propped against the wall. He was unrestrained. Two guards stood on either side of him holding tasers strong enough to knock out a rabid animal. The tips of Bucky’s fingers began to twitch – the slight movement promising he wouldn’t take long to wake from the drug induced haze.

“We won’t be able to control him unless he’s under,” a second voice continued, one of two men stood huddled in the corner of the room wearing long, white coats with several pens tucked into their breast pockets. They were thin and meek in comparison to the soldiers flanking Bucky; stealing concerned glances at the former Winter Soldier.

“The chamber is ready for him now,” the first agreed, a short a round looking man with thin rimmed glasses and cheeks redder than the mark of Hydra’s emblem on his jacket. “We must hurry before he has the strength to fight back.”

Whatever clouded your mind and body vanished in an instant as your gaze followed the pointed hand of the scientist. It was as if you were drenched in ice water – awareness snapping back to your bones with the full force of freight train.

It was worse than what you had imagined.

The long, countless wires running along the floor strapped into the thick metal frame. A bed made of unforgiving steel and iron discolored over centuries of use. A door with latches and locks trailing up the entirety of the border. Frost clinging to the condensation of the small glass window and a violent hissing sound as a cold breeze blew through the tube at the top of the chamber.

The cryochamber.

Heart pounding, you stayed as still as your body could manage in effort to not alert the men of your regained consciousness. You stared at Bucky, desperately willing him to wake before the scientists gave the order to have his unconscious body thrown into cryo. Your nails dug into your palms. Blood seeped onto the floor as the scientists muttered quickly to one another, adjusting dials on the machine that plagued Bucky’s dreams and fidgeting with the ends of their sleeves.

Slowly, Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. Still sedated, still hazy, but he found you within seconds. Relief swelled in your chest, though it was not enough to overtake the clutch of panic over your heart. Bucky flexed his hands, testing his body’s response. He gave you a short nod, barely noticeable to the guards standing above him, signaling for your ready. You steadied yourself on your breath and returned the nod.

On cue, you both jumped from your seemingly helpless positions and lunged to attack. Before you could knock them out, one of the scientists managed to sound the alarm. A bright red light flooded the room, a roaring siren blaring in your ears. The smaller of the two men – the one who had alerted for backup – held his hands in the air as you stalked closer, his terrified gaze glancing down at the unconscious body of his colleague. If he was expecting mercy from you, he had gravely misjudged who he was dealing with. It took one blow for him to fall.

At the other end of the room, electricity buzzed through the short gaps in the siren’s scream as the bright ends of the tasers flared. Sadistic smirks lifted the edges of the guards' mouths, as if they were waiting for an opportunity to maim the Winter Soldier. If one so much as grazed Bucky’s skin, it could bring him to his knees in seconds. You didn’t want to imagine the voltage on the ends of those batons or whether a strike might stop your heart before you could even reach him.

It didn’t stop you from sprinting towards him anyway.

But you only made it a few steps before an arm latched around your wrist and yanked you back.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” One of the guards hissed, a gold tooth glaring under the reflection of the red alarm overhead. Two of his friends snickered behind him – the backup the cowardly scientist had called for before you knocked him out.

Not bothering to deem his rather unoriginal taunt a response, you barreled a roundhouse kick to his ribs instead, knocking him off balance. He stumbled a few paces, sneering a crude insult under his breath. The others charged after you, earning a fist to their ribs, throat, and temple, before you shove the sole of your boot directly to the heart of their chests just as Natasha demonstrated for you in the ring weeks earlier. They dropped like flies, and you smirked as you straightened your back, reminding yourself to thank her later.

You turned back to Bucky, who had taken out one of the guards, though the other had managed to acquire both batons. His eyes flashed to you in warning, urging you to hold your ground, telling you that he had it handled. Those tasers were no joke and it was taking all his concentration not to let the burning edges take him out.

You gritted your teeth, watching from your safe distance. The electricity singed the ends of Bucky’s sleeve on the last swing and he hissed, his face contorting in pain from even the smallest brush. Screw that. You were going to stand on the sidelines while he suffered. Not in this godforsaken place.

You sprinted toward him and wasted no time before you dove the edge of your elbow between the guard’s shoulder blades. He cried out, losing his stance for only a second – but it was all the opportunity Bucky needed to gain the advantage. One hit to the sternum, another to the stomach, and the guard’s grip on the taser slacked. Bucky caught it before it could hit the ground, not offering the same reprieve to the guard before his nose broke against the tile.

Bucky exhaled, his chest rising rapidly as his eyes slowly lifted to you. A flash of panic coursed through him as he tensed, a hand suddenly reaching out for you, but you were pulled quickly out of his grasp. An arm slung over your collar as the cold press of a barrel dug against your temple, stilling your attempts to pry free.

“Go ahead, princess,” the guard sneered, his breath sticky and hot against your cheek. “Give me a reason to pull the trigger.”

You froze, gaze centered solely on Bucky. His body was rigid, his grip on the baton so tight you wondered if it might snap under his strength. His eyes darted back and forth, his thumb inching closer to the trigger for the taser, and you knew he was calculating his next move – how to get you out of the arms of the guard without the gun going off.

“Don’t even think about it, Soldat,” the guard hissed, waving the gun in Bucky’s direction before it returned to your temple. It pressed against you hard enough to tilt your head, unable to withstand the pressure. “Drop it. Now.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. You could see the resistance filtering through the blue of his eyes – the desperation to defend himself smothered by his need to keep you from being harmed. Slowly, he did as he was ordered and released the taser from his grip. The baton now on the floor, Bucky nudged it with his boot so it slid to the guard. He raised his arms defensively in the air – tension burning through his shoulders.

“Interesting...” the guard pondered. You could practically feel his smirk rising against your neck.

“You have me, okay? I’m what you want, right? Let her go,” Bucky demanded, though he was in no position to do so. The guard yanked you backwards, dragging you to the center of the room, leaving Bucky to follow.

“I’ve heard rumors of the woman who claimed the cold heart of our greatest weapon, but I never expected it to make you so docile,” the guard taunted. “But not to worry. We’ll make quick work of you. Such weakness won’t be tolerated by Hydra.”

“Fuck Hydra,” you sneered, yanking against the guard’s hold. You kicked your heel to his shin, pleased at the whine that slipped through his yellowed teeth. “He’s not going anywhere with you!”

“Quiet, bitch!” The barrel of the gun jabbed into your neck, enough that you started to choke against it. Gasping for air against the pressure suffocating your windpipe, you dug your nails until the guard’s forearm, blood trickling in your wake, though he didn’t relent. Bucky’s hands raised a little higher, the subtle tells of panic fracturing through the seemingly stoic nature of his calm expression.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky eased, trying to get the guard to turn his attention from you. Only when the gun released from your throat, returning to the soft flesh on your temple, did Bucky dare to speak again. “What do you what?”

“I think you already know, Soldat.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed, the muscle growing taunt under the skin. His otherwise stoic features gave away little to what he was thinking, to the burning rage coursing under his skin or the panic seeping into his veins. You'd spent too many nights coaxing his demons away, too many hours memorizing the lines on his face, too much time falling in love with every inch of the man before you to not recognize fear on his face when it grabbed ahold of him.

All it took was a subtle twitch of his gaze.

The chamber.

“No,” you choked out, the word barely audible through the hoarse ache in your throat. “No!”

“Go on, Soldat,” the guard instructed, gesturing to the cryochamber. The amusement in his voice was sickening, churning deep into your stomach as each word slithered off his venomous tongue.

Bucky swallowed, looking to the chamber. His right hand curled to a fist, his chest struggling to find pace with each new breath, but still – he eased himself from the edge of panic. His shoulders relaxed; his hand unclenched. Slowly, ocean blue returned to you and your stomach dropped to a free fall, your knees nearly giving way under the hold of the guard.

Because what coated Bucky’s features was no longer the fear you’d witnessed in the early hours of the morning, when sweat beaded into his hair and his pulse climbed beyond what his heart could handle. But instead, the lines on his face sank to a semblance of resignation that made you want to scream until your lungs gave out.

It was acceptance.

For what he was about to do. For what he would willing subject himself to again if it meant you walked out of this room alive.

Nausea crept up your throat, bile burning on your tongue, as you watched Bucky slowly walk toward the chamber.

“No!” Your voice was shattered as the word broke past cracked lips. You struggled against the grip of the guard, but he only pressed the barrel of the gun tighter to your head, surely bruising the skin. You barely felt it, not as Bucky took each step closer to the chamber that had haunted his dreams just hours earlier. You could still feel the damp fabric of his shirt under your hands, the slight trembling of his body as you held him. It was etched into your memory – burned there. And he took another willing step toward it.

“Don’t do this,” you cried out, whining under the strain of the gun jarring into your temple. “Bucky, please. You don’t have to do this! Just fight back! Fight back!”

“Get back in your fucking storage, Soldat,” the guard taunted with a sickening laugh, ignoring your pleas.

Rage burrowed into your veins at the reflexive flinch over Bucky’s shoulders, how he swallowed back the shame, the humiliation, and set a hand against the machine that would be his tomb. It cracked something in you – snapped your last remaining thread of self-preservation and you swung your elbow back at the guard’s ribs with as much force as you could manage.

The barrel of the gun slipped as it rung out – the echo shattering your eardrum into a numbed, high pitch ringing. You dove for the guard.

Through the chaos, you did not hear the door swing open, nor the influx of a dozen Hydra agents swarming the room. Vision blurring to pure red, you did not see the paralyzing fear in Bucky’s eyes as he sprinted into action – how he took out nearly three men on his way to you.

The golden tooth guard laid upon the floor, still holding the gun in his hands as you towered over him, though this time – it was his eyes that bore crippling fear as you brushed away the stream of blood from your temple.

It only took a well-placed kick to his wrist to slack his hold on the gun. He whimpered, crawling back along the floor to escape you. But there was nowhere he could go. Nowhere to hide. You swore you’d kill any man who dared to put Bucky back in that godforsaken coffin and you’d do it without a trace of remorse. You’d take your time with him. Make sure he knew what would happen if he dared to threaten the Winter Soldier in your presence.

Just as you bent to retrieve the gun, intent on ending this fight, a scream broke through the ringing in your ears – one you’d heard more often than you ever cared to admit, a scream that often woke you from your sleep and haunted your silences.

Bucky.

He was on his knees as you frantically turned in search of him, overwhelmed by the number of Hydra agents surrounding him. His eyes were falling heavy, his body swaying as he clutched his ribs. Smoke filtered from the frayed edges of his suit between his fingers, around the bloodied purple and red marks on his skin. Above him, two of the Hydra guards flared the ends of their tasers, grinning wildly at one another.

You moved to fire single headshots into each of the guards, but your vision was beginning to fade. Doubling. Circling. Muscles suddenly aching with heaviness. The gun slipped from your grip and you stumbled backwards until you fell into the hard frame of a body, arms quickly encasing around you to hold you still.

“Get her out of here!” Bucky's distorted voice shouted through your haze. Blood smeared over your vision, dripping from the wound running from your temple to the center of your forehead. You could hardly keep yourself conscious, but you willed your eyes open on panic alone – watching as the guards stabbed the burning end of the taser into Bucky’s ribs again, his cries sinking straight to your stomach.

The man keeping you steady hesitated on Bucky’s order and you used the advantage to try to break free of his hold, but you were too weak, your body too exhausted. Watching helplessly as another taser burrowed into Bucky’s ribs was enough to break you from your fog.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” you cried, blood spewed from your lips with every word. You were in no condition to fight, no condition to aid the blur of auburn hair and black leather as Natasha did her best to subdue an increasing number of assailants.

“Steve!” Bucky ordered. Tears burned down the sides of your face at the crack of desperation in his voice. The guards shoved his weakened body toward the chamber. “You promised me! Do it now!”

You could feel the resistance coursing through Steve’s body as he held you on your feet – the sudden anger rushing in through the taunt flex of his muscle. But he began to drag you towards the exit anyway, even as Bucky trembled on the floor, his body seizing from the sudden surge of electricity. You screamed as if the tasers had plunged straight to your own heart.

“Y/n, listen to me! We have to go!” Steve urged; his voice strained. “There’s too many of them!”

Sobs tore through your body as Steve hauled you from the room. Natasha followed quickly behind, clearing as much of a path as she could to keep the Hydra agents from swarming you. Your attempts to break free were useless – even if you were at full strength. Steve was too strong, the serum too powerful. There was nothing you could do to stop what was about to happen.

You were going to leave your heart behind.

Leave him to the people who broke him.

The last thing you saw before your vision caved in was the Hydra guards’ sickening grins as they dragged Bucky’s unconscious body to the open cryochamber. The darkness that followed was no relief.

***

It was a betrayal to sit within the safety and comfort of the compound’s walls. A betrayal to let Helen bandage the torn flesh on your forehead from where the bullet grazed your skin. A betrayal to clean the blood from your suit and your hair in favor of fresh soaps and warm towels. A betrayal to breathe as Bucky was kept hostage by Hydra in that fucking chamber.

Your arms were crossed firmly over your chest, your back slumped into the conference room chair. Somewhere at the head of the table, Fury was giving orders to stand down, to stay put until a plan was put into place and ‘Sergeant Barnes could be extracted efficiently.’

You knew what that meant – a shit ton of red tape and days of sitting around waiting on approval from a board of wealthy old men who never left the safety of their cozy penthouse offices. Waiting for them to deem Bucky’s freedom a necessary commodity to SHIELD; to decide that his life was work the risk of a rescue mission. They sat in their leather chairs, behind their marbled desks, and weighed the worth of Bucky Barnes’ life.

Screw that.

“I want confirmation from you, Agent Y/L/n,” Fury ordered from the head of the long table.

You glanced up at him, face blank. You hadn’t a clue what the last thing he said was, but you suspected he was ordering you to stay on base, to not go after Bucky yourself. The entire room was watching you, studying you as if you might snap under the weight of the last twenty-four hours.

Natasha sat in the chair across from you, her eyes the only feature giving way to the concern lingering under the stoic surface. Sam hovered from the door at the back of the room – not having been on the mission himself and still, he argued his way into the debrief room when word broke the team was coming back to base one less than when they left.

But Steve – Steve was standing next to Fury, one hand on his belt, the other leaning against the table. All high and mighty. He was the one who dragged you from that room. He was the one who forced you to leave Bucky behind. If anyone should shatter under the guilt of what happened, it should be him.

“Agent Y/L/n,” Fury repeated.

You swallowed back bile. “I won’t go after Barnes.”

Fury exhaled a sigh of obvious relief, turning to the rest of the team. “Sit tight. I’ll get word to you when we have clearance for a rescue op.”

You kicked out your chair and stormed from the room the second you were dismissed, unable to stand choking back the same air as the people who would willing leave Bucky in the arms of Hydra.

There was little else centering you than pure determination and rage as you shoved open the door into your room. You didn’t allow yourself to look at the unmade bed – the sheets still crumpled from the aftermath of a nightmare Bucky had fallen prey to. You didn’t stop to notice Bucky's t-shirt hung over the edge of the lounge chair in the corner of the room or the rows of photographs on the dresser. You couldn’t. You'd collapse if you did and you’d be no use to him then.

You grabbed your suit from the closet and fisted it into your backpack. There was no way Fury would let the armory dispense you a weapon, so you'd have to make due to with the handgun Bucky kept under his nightstand. It was heavier than your usual choice, but you were left with limited options. You’d storm a Hydra base on your own with nothing but your bare hands if you had to.

By the time you made it to the landing bay, Steve was waiting for you at the mouth of the jet. He was dressed in full combat gear as if he was prepared for you to try to take the jet on your own, as if he was ready to fight to keep you from going after the man who was supposed to be his best friend.

“Get the hell out of my way, Rogers.” You walked past Steve with little resistance, tossing your backpack to the row of seats in the front of the jet. “You’re not going to convince me to let this go, so don’t bother. You can kick me off the team after I bring Bucky home.”

Steve clenched his jaw, a tight line across his lips as if restraining himself. Just as you slid into the pilot’s seat, Steve slammed a hand to the trigger to close the ramp, closing himself inside the jet with you. You turned back to him, annoyance and surprise furrowing your brow.

“You think I wanted to leave him behind? Is that it?” Steve snapped, coming up behind you and yanking the pilot’s headphones from your grip. He gestured for you to stand and you did so cautiously, watching as he took your intended seat behind the dashboard.

“You think I’m not sick at the thought of leaving him to those monsters? After all he’s been through?” Steve gritted his teeth, flipping switch after switch until the board began to light up. Panic ensued below on the landing bay – SHIELD agents running around frantically trying to figure out how to stop Captain America from taking off.

“It fucking kills me, Y/n,” he hissed. Then, he slammed his hand against the switchboard harsher than you suspected he meant to. A dent was left behind on the knob under his palm when he pulled it back. He winced at the red mark on his skin.

“Captain Rogers, stand down!” a sudden voice echoed through the jet – air control.

He ignored the command, flipping a few more switches until the jet engines roared to life.

“He’s a brother to me,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard the frantic efforts of the SHIELD agents attempting to keep him on base. “My best friend. Leaving him there gutted me. If you think I was going to just stand by while we wait on some bureaucratic schmucks to give us permission to after him, you don’t know me very well at all.”

There was anger in his voice. Resentment. Perhaps, if you let yourself acknowledge it, a sliver of betrayal.

“I jumped out of a plane into Nazi territory for him. Against the orders of my superiors, mind you. When everyone told me he was beyond saving,” Steve reminded you, his knuckles white as he clenched the wheel. “Hell, I was a fugitive for him, Y/n. And you think I’d just leave him there?”

You gaped at him, unable to respond. Guilt burned warm in your cheeks.

“This is a direct order!” air control called again. “Stand down, Captain!”

Steve turned off communications, nearly breaking the transmissions nodule in the process. He let out a heavy exhale, and for the first time since you returned to base, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines running over his forehead.

“He made me swear an oath to him. Did you know that?” Steve said, his voice softer now. You sank into the co-pilot chair beside him, a slow shake of your head. He pulled on the yoke, lifting the jet into the air much to the panic of the crews below.

“It was early on,” he continued, “earlier than you’d guess, I think. Before you got together. Back when he was pining over you, still convinced he wasn’t worthy of anything good in his life. He made me swear that if it ever came down to... to him or you... that I’d make sure you got out alive.”

Something in your heart splintered, wondering when Bucky had decided your life was worth more than his. “He never told me that.”

Steve smiled, though it was aching. “I don’t doubt that. You never would have put up with it. Clearly.”

“You should have told him that oath was bullshit.” You were surprised then as Steve began to laugh and a tired smile tugged at the edges of your lips. It was an awful thing to ask of someone – to prioritize one life over another. But you knew, on some level beyond what you were willing to admit, that you would have done the same if you were in his position. You’d do a lot worse if it meant keeping Bucky safe.

You already turned your back on SHIELD and disobeyed a direct order by going after him. You didn’t know what would await you when you returned or if you’d still have a home at the compound after what you’d done, but you’d have Bucky safe in your arms again and that was all that mattered. Besides, maybe having Captain America on your side will soften the blow of your misconduct. The suits weren’t as willing to put their poster boy in cuffs as they were with you.

The jet was flying steady through the clouds when the smile on Steve’s face began to fade, slowly sinking as he stared out into the sea of pale blue. He glanced over at you then, his gaze lingering on the bandage over your forehead.

“You were shot in the head, Y/n,” Steve finally said, an awful weight pulling on his voice. Before you could argue it was only a graze, that it had barely caused any significant damage, Steve gave you a look that silenced the words on your tongue. “You were bleeding bad. You could hardly stand up straight by the time Nat and I found you. You were in no condition to do anything for him. You would have passed out before you could reach him, and then what? Hydra had both of you? How is that any better? How would that have helped him?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, knowing he was right and hating the resignation of it burning through your chest. “I made him a promise too, Steve. I swore I wouldn’t let anyone use that chamber against him, that he’d never be trapped like that ever again. I— failed him, Steve. I left him there... all alone and—and...”

“No,” Steve argued, his grip on the yoke tightening. “Bucky knew what would happen and he begged me to get you out of there anyway. He knew what he was risking by staying behind.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you fought against the lump in your throat. It was too much – the thought of Bucky willingly stepping foot into his nightmares if only to ensure you survived. This wonderful man who dared to question his own worth was beyond anything you could ever deserve. Your heart ached for him.

Steve gently reached out and brushed the fallen tears with the sleeve of his jacket, the rough material scratching your skin. He offered you a sad smile.

“Bucky also knew you’d move heaven and earth to get back to him,” Steve added, certainty clear in his voice. “And we will, okay? We’ll bring him home.”

You nodded, sinking back into your chair. The sky resembled the soft fragments of pale blue you knew so well – the lighter shades of Bucky’s eyes. You brushed the wetness from your cheeks.

***

Once you landed, Steve wordlessly handed you a com. You took it without question and fitted it into your ear, adjusting the device until it settled comfortably.

“Welcome back, kids,” Natasha’s voice purred through the coms. Your eyes shot to Steve, who gave you an amused smirk in return. “Hope you didn’t think we’d let you disobey direct orders and infiltrate a Hydra base on your own.”

“I’ve gotten in enough trouble over metal man already,” Sam chuckled. “What’s another strike on the record?”

You clenched your jaw enough to ache, trying to stop the sudden swell of emotion at the sound of their voices. You could picture Sam leaning over the edge of Natasha’s desk, the two of them huddled around a computer screen in the dark of a locked room they’d commandeered back at the compound.

You weren’t alone in this. Bucky wasn’t alone in this.

You looked at Steve, eyes glistening with tears, and he set a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

You and Steve loaded up with as many weapons as you could strap to your suits without impacting your range of movement. A quiet calm swept through the jet with every click and latch of a holster. You could spot the Hydra base through the break in the trees – a simple, concrete frame that looked like it could have been decades abandoned.

You kept both hands on your weapon as you walked down the open ramp of the jet, your grip aching against the metal.

“Nat’s keeping an eye on us through the security cameras,” Steve explained as you approached the edge of the base. He gestured to the cameras hidden under the paneling of the roof. “And Sam’s—”

A buzzing sound zipped around you – a blur of silver and red as it flew up above the base and shot a single electric pulse. The drone hovered for a moment, waiting patiently, and then a body tumbled off the edge of the roof. You grinned as it flew back down to meet you.

“Nice work, Sam,” you said, looking right into the camera.

“His name is Redwing,” Sam reminded you, the familiar influx of pride swelling in his voice. You could almost see Natasha roll her eyes beside him as he puffed out his chest.

“Well Redwing can keep watch out here,” Steve ordered, amusement lost from his voice as he looked to the entrance of the Hydra base. A soft chime followed as Natasha must have hacked the security system to unlock the door. The light by the knob shifted from red to green.

You shared a single look with Steve before he pulled open the door and you fired your first shot. The first man went down before he had even glanced to your direction.

One after the other, falling in short precision before a finger could so much as grace the trigger of their guns. Steve barely had the opportunity to fire a shot himself as you channeled every ounce of the boiling rage searing under your skin into the men who had dared to take Bucky from you. And when that wasn’t enough – when the bullets emptied from the chambers – you left the firearms to the tile and drew your blades.

It was more personal this way.

“So you’ve returned for round two?” a voice seethed ahead, the full shine of a gold tooth reflecting under florescent lights. His lower lip was busted, his right eye swollen and bruised. You did not miss the way his gaze flickered to the bandage running over your forehead – evidence of the shot he nearly ended your life with. A sickening grin curved at the edges of his lips.

“I will enjoy this, princess.” The guard cracked out his knuckles, twisting his neck to one side and the other, readying himself for a fight. He was looking for a rematch – for redemption. Or perhaps, to fuel his pathetic ego from the concussion you’d given him at your last encounter.

But you were in no mood for games.

Without dropping your stare, you flung one of your daggers across the hall with as much force as you could muster. The golden toothed guard didn’t seem to realize he’d been struck with the knife until the momentum shifted his balance. His sinister smile fell as he looked down at the blade embedded in his chest. Shaking hands hovered over the hilt. Then, slowly, he looked up to you as if you might offer him mercy.

You threw the second dagger instead. This time, you struck his heart.

You said nothing as he dropped to his knees and then to his side as blood began to seep from the wounds. He was dead by the time you crossed the hall and bent to retrieve your weapons. It took some effort to yank the blades from the guard’s body.

“Y/n,” Steve called, pausing at the threshold of an open room. His shoulders were stiff, his stance rigid. “Over here.”

Your heart threatened to tear through your ribs as you followed him into the room. A trail of blood still laid upon the floor, scuffle marks obscuring the droplets from where Steve had dragged you away – your heels digging for purchase in the solid ground.

It took nearly all your effort to draw your eyes to the center of the room – to the cryochamber. A low hum sung from the series of computers attached to the machine; the effort exerting from maintaining the freezing temperatures that once sustained Bucky’s body for decades. Steve was speaking into the coms behind you though you could not discern a word of what he said, not as you slowly approached the chamber – locked upon it as if you were drawn in a trance.

A shaken hand lifted to the small window. You couldn’t see beyond the glass – not with the fog of frost and ice obscuring your view – but you knew he was there. The glass was frozen under your fingertips, enough that the sensation startled you enough to flinch as you touched it.

“We’ll have to move fast,” Steve ordered, his voice coming in clearer now as he came up beside you. “Hydra reinforcements will be on us any minute.”

You nodded, trying to still the rapid trembling in your hands as Steve rushed to the control panels. He began pulling at wires and pressing buttons seemingly at random until the distant humming began to fade and the cool blast of air disconnected from the chamber.

Steve swiped at the dark green button in the top left corner of the panel and a latch suddenly unlocked. You lunged for the chamber’s door, propping your foot against the wall to leverage your weight enough to lift it open.

It was like stepping out into a winter storm as the door swung open. Blistering wind rushed out at you, forcing you to shield your eyes. When it passed only seconds later, you lowered your forearm to find ice adhered to the fabric of your suit – the small droplets of your opponents’ blood now frozen in crystalized red.

You understood then why Bucky had such horrific nightmares of this chamber. His skin was an awful shade of blue – his lips purple and chapped. Ice clung to his hair where it had once been dampened with sweat. His chest did not rise. His eyes did not flutter open. He looked... dead.

You reached out to touch his face, fingertips brushing over the ice crystals on the short bristles of his beard. A sob nearly broke you before Steve set a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve got him,” he eased, guiding you away from the chamber. You stepped back carefully, folding your arms around yourself and sank into the swell of relief as Steve was the one to shoulder Bucky’s weight and pull him from his casket. He hissed at the contact, as if the chill of Bucky’s skin was burning him. Steve’s neck and hands were turning bright red where he held contact to him.

“Sam and I will have medical ready for you when you return,” Natasha’s reassuring voice came through the coms as you led Steve and Bucky through the empty hallways. You kept Steve’s gun raised, though you met no enemies as you inched towards the exit. It was an effort not to trip over the series of bodies laid over the floors. You tried not to look at the pools of blood sticking under your boots.

“And Fury?” Steve questioned; his breathing labored.

“Let me worry about him,” Nat replied without missing a beat.

“Hell, I’m half convinced this was his plan all along,” Sam chuckled. Part of you might have wondered whether he was right if you had any energy left to do anything but hold a hand to the trigger and guide a careful path away from the Hydra base.

Something had to go wrong. It always went wrong.

But somehow, you made it back to the jet without interference.

Steve quickly released Bucky and gently laid him on the soft mats near the cargo hold and rushed to the cockpit. He threw the pilot’s headphones over his ears and fired on the engines before you even closed the ramp to the jet.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Natasha called through the coms.

You sank to your knees at Bucky’s side, hands hovering over his chilled skin; scared that a single touch might shatter him.

“Yeah,” you replied though it was barely audible.

“It’s just us on here right now,” she told you, a softness to her voice. “You did good, okay? But the work’s not over. Coming out of cryo won’t be kind on his body. Even with the serum he’s at risk for hypothermia. You’re going to need to—”

“I know,” you whispered, nodding though she could not see you. You’d done it enough times, spend enough nights curled around him to draw the warmth back to his body. It had never been like this – his body so lost to the cold that his chest did not rise on his shallow breaths. He wasn’t even shivering.

“We’ll see you on base,” Natasha said in way of goodbye.

Your hands trembled over the zipper of Bucky’s jacket as the jet lifted from the patch of green in the woods behind the Hydra base. You fumbled with it, cursing at your fingers for slipping their grip. It wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you tugged on it. The damn thing was frozen solid. Tears slipped over your cheeks as you pulled back, wincing at the frozen burn marks on your fingertips.

Skin to skin wasn’t an option – not with his clothes frozen onto him like this. But you could still manage, you could still give him some layer of heat; any of it, all of it. You laid down to the floor beside him, draped against his right side. You slid a leg between his and laid your arm over his chest, your palm setting gently against his cheek.

You drew in a shaken breath at the iciness of his skin, but you did not pull away from him. Your thumb slid along his cheekbone, your hand stinging under the cold. Still, you curled against him the best you could. Even as the jet flew soundlessly above the trees and Steve glanced back at you over his shoulder, you did not dare to put space between you and Bucky.

By the time you landed back on back, you were shaking. Steve had to pry you from Bucky’s body; your skin numb and flushed from the cold. The ice crystals had melted from Bucky’s hair and skin, a pool of water under him. You clung to Steve as you watched the medical team quickly board the jet and drag Bucky away. It was like you were paralyzed – frozen – as they carried him from you. Steve set a steadying hand on your back.

Natasha was standing at Fury’s side as Steve gently led you down the ramp, following behind the med team. You glanced over at the director, expecting to find his namesake carved into the lines of his face. But instead, his hands were clasped behind his back, his long signature coat swaying in the wind of the landing bay, and he gave you a short nod.

Perhaps Sam was right.

***

You’d forgotten about the taser burns.

Standing in the far corner of the room, you struggled to catch your breath as the nursed gingerly removed Bucky’s tactical suit – cutting a clean line down the center with scissors when the zipper broke like shards of glass at their attempt to grasp it. Pealing the fabric from his body, you’d expected to see the slight tint of red on his skin – the blood rushing to the surface to warm his body now that the blue tint had dissipated. You’d expected the scars you knew well – scars you’d kissed and brushed loving fingertips over the evenings he looked at them with disgust.

But you’d forgotten the burns.

Two vicious red marks on his ribs. Another set just below his collarbone upon his chest – frighteningly close to his heart. Soft pink marks crept like spider veins away from the burns. Almost like lightning, you realized. The intensity of the tasers carried enough voltage to kill any other man – to kill even a large animal. His burn marks resembled lightning.

Just as the nurses tucked Bucky under the clean sheets, you stepped forward. “Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

You hated how small you sounded. How afraid. But the nurse offered you a warm smile and gestured towards the door. You followed her, armed folded tight over your chest. You left puddles of cold water in your wake.

“He will,” she told you reassuringly. “Give him some time. The serum will do the work for him. It always has.”

You nodded, brushing away a stray tear before she could notice. When she left, the room was achingly silent. Steve had promised to check in on Bucky after he debriefed Fury and settled the council before they threatened to banish you from the compound. It wasn’t a job you cared to handle right now, not with the chance of Bucky waking without you and still believing he was at the Hydra base. You would not be leaving his side until he woke up. You didn’t care if Fury or his superiors tried to throw you in the Raft and toss the key to the ocean. You weren’t going anywhere.

As you approached Bucky’s bedside, you began to peel away layers of your suit. If you let yourself believe it, you might imagine you were in the comfort of your shared bedroom, the stars still coating the night sky, the window left open overnight. Bucky was only sleeping. It was only a mere chill from the draft trembling his body. Nothing more.

Wordlessly, you slipped under the covers with him, gasping at the still frigid touch of his skin. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when he was on the jet, but there was no barrier between you anymore. Dressed only in your undergarments, you pressed as much of your body against Bucky as you could manage.

Body heat, you remembered, was the fastest way to warm him. You could pile blankets on top of him until the weight sunk his body into the mattress, but it would be nothing in comparison to the heat radiating from your skin as you curled up against him. Even when goosebumps lined your forearms and you shivered against him, your body would guide him home. Your warmth would protect him from the cold.

You didn’t know how long you laid there with him. Long enough for Steve to come by after he was likely berated by the council, though he didn’t stay long. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he looked over his friend, noting the slight flush of pink that returned to Bucky’s cheeks. He promised he would return in a few hours with something for you to eat. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

***

The sun disappeared behind the tree line, leaving only the soft neon glow of the heart monitor charting Bucky’s pulse to illuminate the room. You didn’t attempt to pick at the pasta Steve brought you or move around the noodles to make it look like you’d even tried to swallow a bite. You didn’t have the energy for it.

Bucky’s body had returned to the comforting furnace you knew him to be – warm and strong, steady. But he hadn’t woken. Steve speculated it could be the sedatives Hydra gave him before putting him under. They'd expected him to be under a lot longer than he was. You and Steve were the ones to interrupt that cycle. Perhaps he only needed to shed the sedatives from his system.

It took nearly seven hours since arriving back at the compound before you felt Bucky’s hand twitch.

You gasped, flinching at the sudden sensation. His hand was rested between yours, curled up against your chest as you held his arm as if he were a childhood teddy bear. His fingers flexed in your grip as you carefully observed the movement. A slight groan came from his lips next, and your eyes darted up to his face.

“Bucky?” you whispered, releasing his hand gently to draw your fingertips gingerly over his jawline.

He groaned again, his whole body shifting uncomfortably.

Before you could get his name out again, his eyes shot open. A rapid breath expanded his lungs as if he had just broken the surface after hours underwater. His eyes darted around the room, trying to place where he was and you felt his whole body begin to tense.

“Bucky,” you called again, your voice barely a whisper to avoid startling him. He flinched anyway. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re home, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

He blinked a few times, the black in his pupils beginning to ease in favor of the blue you adored. He looked at you then, the realization coming back to him. It was as if you could see the memories spinning behind his eyes, the slow recollection of what transpired over the last twenty-four hours: how he’d nearly lost you, the chamber he was forced into after you promised him it would never happen again, the ice that had suspended him in time.

You’d failed him. You knew that. Shame crept into your skin the longer he looked at you. You expected him to be angry, to be resentful of a promise you had no right to make. But instead, he brushed his fingertips over the bandage on your forehead, a frown tugging on the corners of his lips.

“You’re hurt.”

His voice was raspy as he spoke. It brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, but Bucky’s eyes narrowed on you.

“You were shot,” he said, as if the memory was only now coming back to him. “An inch to the left and that bullet would have killed you.”

You swallowed, though your throat was dry. “It didn’t.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, unable to look away from the bandage. It had happened because you fought back, because you could not simply watch as they forced Bucky into that chamber. You didn’t care that you had a gun to your head or that the Hydra agent behind you had the clear advantage. You didn’t care because Bucky was doing what they told him to do simply because he hoped they would spare your life. He was walking towards the chamber, toward his nightmares, and you couldn’t stand it.

You’d do it again.

But you didn’t dare tell Bucky that.

It was your fault he’d even stepped foot toward that damn chamber in the first place. Your fault he went willingly. Your fault that you left him behind to the very same horrors that plagued his dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

His nightmares will only get worse now. After all he’d been through, after all the hard work he put in with his therapist, you retraumatized him again. You were the reason he was forced to relive the worst parts of his time under Hydra’s thumb. He may be holding you now, but you knew – you knew – he would not be able to untether that thread, that he’d forever associate you with the promise you’d broken.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Bucky warned though his voice was gentle. He tugged you tighter against his side, the heat radiating off his body now enough to bring sweat to the nape of your neck and still, you’d never be close enough. He'd never be warm enough. Not after what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, unable to stop the well of tears from consuming you entirely. You buried your face in the corner of Bucky’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. I— I failed you. I swore to you I’d never let them hurt you again. I promised I wouldn’t let them take you and I— I left you there and—”

“Sweetheart, stop,” Bucky said again, more urgency to his voice now. The ends of his fingertips curled under your chin, gently lifting you to face him. There was only remorse in his gaze, only love and affection. “I knew Steve would have to drag you out of there. I knew you’d keep fighting for me, even if it meant going down yourself. I saw the blood on your face. I knew you were close to passing out. I begged him to get you out of there for a reason, honey.”

You shook your head, tears slipped past your cheeks. “But I—”

“You didn’t leave me behind,” Bucky insisted. “You didn’t do this to me. Hydra did. Don’t ask me to blame you for what they’ve done.”

Your lips parted in search of an argument, but you couldn’t find one. The softest smile pressed on the edges of Bucky’s lips.

“Besides,” he sighed, his mouth ghosting over your temple as he kissed you, “you came back for me. I knew you would.”

He kissed your forehead next, allowing himself to linger there. You closed your eyes under the feel of him, tears slipping past your cheeks as the warm comfort of his lips.

“I know you’d come for me,” he said again, with enough conviction that your heart began to settle into rhythm with his. Steady beats, mirroring one another – perfectly in time.

“I could still be fired,” you mumbled as you wiped the tears from your eyes, “or arrested. Depends on how good of a defense Steve pitched.”

Bucky chuckled and you could feel the vibration of it in his chest. It was your favorite feeling in the world.

“Steve isn’t one for following the rules of his superiors, so I think you’ll be okay,” he said. “Hard to argue against a successful mission.”

You offered him as much of a smile as you could muster. Bucky traced his thumb over your lower lip, as if to mark the shape to permanence.

“Besides, I won’t let them take you from me,” Bucky added, a cheeky grin stealing the darkness from his eyes, stealing the fear and panic that had once burrowed into the soft shades of blue. “I promise.”

A heaviness sank in your gaze, your smile slipping from you despite Bucky’s protest. “Perhaps we shouldn’t make promises like that anymore.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but you could feel his grip on you tightening, pulling you tighter against his chest. “How about a different one then?”

His fingertips settled under your chin, drawing your gaze back to his. You were met with nothing but the warm, gentle affection you’d always known in him.

“How about we promise to find each other?” he offered instead. “No matter what happens, no matter what tries to separate us... We will come for one another. Always.”

Tears swelled in your eyes. “Always.”

As always - thank you so much for reading and for all your kind words ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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