#once I had the thought I couldn't unthink it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gureumz · 10 months

Text

the thinker

rating: explicit

member: sunoo

premise: after someone on your dormitory floor dies, your professor, sunoo, seeks out to solve it himself. concerned and bearing responsibility, you offer to help (in more ways than just gathering evidence). what you discover is more than what you bargained for.

notes: MAJOR DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH, graphic retellings of murders, dark themes, again this is a dark fic pls if you can't stomach it don't force yourself, thriller/suspense, fem!reader, law student!reader, law professor!sunoo, student x teacher relationships (all concerned parties are legal), dom!sunoo, slight breeding, dirty talk, light gagging, mentions of pregnancy (unrelated to the reader), lmk if i missed anything i'm fading

a/n: second of my 1k follower special! this was a doozy. changed a little of the premise because the story just took a life of its own oops ! also a late birthday thing for our boy sunoo. longer than the last one please enjoy (responsibly).

ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: i do not, by any means, claim that this is how the person depicted in this story acts or is in real life. this is a work of fiction with a made-up persona. please consume RESPONSIBLY.

a figure stands silently outside her door.

all is quiet. the occasional laughter is heard, but nothing is amiss.

the figure knocks, bowing his head low. he knows about the eyes. the eyes all over the walls.

she opens the door. effortlessly beautiful. a swan blessed in grace.

the figure embraces her. cradles her in his arms. holds her in his hands.

the swan falls.

---

you couldn't wrap your head around it.

a murder. right down the hall from where you slept, where you studied, where you bathed, so oblivious to the carnage taking place just a few doors down.

you heard the guttural, terrified scream of her roommate. everyone on the same floor did. rushing out of your room, your own mind racing with thoughts of the unthinkable, you see yunjin sobbing on the floor in front of her dorm room.

the one she shared with kazuha.

the door was wide open, light spilling out onto the dim hallway. yunjin was still crying, clutching her stomach as if physically pained by what she's seeing.

"s-someone call security, police, anyone!" yunjin shrieked, hands reaching out towards her doorway, hesitant.

some students have rushed to her side to see what she's hysterical about. all of them recoiled once they saw what awaited them in the room.

"she's dead! kazuha's been attacked!"

you blink, unaware that your heart rate had picked up in the few minutes that you recounted the events of that night.

it's been a week now since the school announced an immediate lockdown of the campus. classes were canceled, no one was to leave their dorms unaccounted for. those who live in the university accommodations were not permitted to exit the campus unless personally picked up by their parents or guardians. those who had family in another district, another province, another country lamented feeling trapped.

'what if the killer comes back? isn't keeping us here the wrong move?'

'what if it's one of the students? they need to question us all. especially those on the same floor.'

you had the same thoughts. but you knew how important the first seventy-two hours of the investigation were. so, for the first three days no one left. every floor of every dorm building was guarded. no one was allowed to move about alone. always in twos or more.

you fidget now, unable to focus on the voice droning from the front of the lecture hall. you raise your eyes to see professor kim, pointing at a slide projected on the screen, explaining something about warrants.

he catches your eye and you immediately shift your focus to his presentation.

it's as if nothing happened. a funeral was held, a memorial erected for kazuha in the lobby of the law building, and eventually, classes resumed.

you've heard whispers that yunjin opted out of university accommodations altogether. no one has seen her since.

"right!" you hear professor kim bellow from the front, clapping his hands together and startling everyone in the lecture hall.

for someone with such an amicably handsome face, professor sunoo kim was a ruthless criminal law instructor. he was particular about punctuality and never entertained any suggestions regarding extra credit. he was, by all accounts, as stiff as a board inside the classroom.

"that's all the time i have for you all today. read up on the cases i gave you because i'll be expecting the digests by thursday," professor kim calls out, gathering his belongings.

a hushed chatter falls over the lecture hall as the students start to leave. there haven't been any memos or reminders put recently regarding the murder but it's still the same. in twos or threes. no one is comfortable moving about alone nowadays.

you start to follow, mindlessly collecting your papers and your laptop, but a figure approaching your desk causes you to stop dead in your tracks.

"________," professor kim's voice glides through your ears smoothly. he smiles down at you as you sink back into your seat.

"hi, professor kim, " you greet, nodding briefly in acknowledgment.

"how have you been doing? you've been uncharacteristically quiet today," professor kim points out.

it's true. you're usually one to participate in discussions, always caught up or ahead on the readings. but with the events of the past days, you couldn't bring yourself to care much about anything.

it's not as if you were particularly close to kazuha. she lived on your floor and you've had small talk with her in the common lounge. nothing ever went beyond polite chatter.

"i think everyone's kind of out of it, professor," you reply. "ever since...you know."

you look up to meet professor kim's eyes and his gaze softens when he realizes what you're referring to. he nods understandingly, watching as the rest of the class files out of the lecture hall.

"and whoever did it is still out there," you say lowly, voice dropping to a whisper.

"i know," professor kim agrees, voice suddenly gruff. you watch as his eyebrows pinch together.

"i've been...looking into it," professor kim continues.

you eye him curiously, your back straightening as professor kim perches himself on the table in front of you. you get a whiff of his perfume; sweet but still subtly masculine.

"the police are on the case, but of course i've worked criminal cases like this before, and with my knowledge of the school and its people...i couldn't help but pry a little," professor kim explains, shifting so he could look at you better from his vantage above you.

"what did you find?" you ask, feeling small under the watchful eye of your professor. he grins down at you, reaching over to squeeze your arm briefly.

"i can't tell you," professor kim deflects. after a few moments, he stands, walking back to his desk now but it's too late. you're intrigued, stomach churning in anticipation.

"you can't or you won't?" you call after him. professor kim stops and glances back at you.

"there's the ________ i know," he says, chuckling. he continues on to his desk, packing up the rest of his things. you watch with steely eyes.

"i don't want any rumors about this. it's a tragic event that has no business being turned into campus gossip that will most likely devolve into some urban legend decades from now," professor kim says pointedly as if berating you. you shake your head, unable to contain your curiosity.

"i won't tell anyone, professor kim, i promise," you implore. you rise from your seat, startling the professor.

he regards you for a moment, eyes traveling down your body and only now do you see professor kim. truly see him.

he towers over you, standing tall at a 5'10 or 5'11 based on your estimates. he dresses crisply, but you don't miss the brightly colored socks beneath his perfectly pressed trousers. you take note of the broad expanse of his upper body underneath the short sleeve button-up he has on.

his face, one that you've looked at two times a week for the past six months, fully came into focus now. striking eyes, a sharp nose, lips that were redder than your own. thicker, too. so thick and plump and always shining with what you could only assume was lip balm.

"sunoo," professor kim says after a moment. "call me sunoo when we're not in class."

you swallow, confused. "sir?"

"wrong," sunoo laughs. "just sunoo, please. i can't be any more than five years older than you."

that, too.

his age. so close to his students' that it's not uncommon for a lot of you to wonder if he'd ever messed around with one of you. you vaguely remember thinking that you wouldn't mind being that person.

"sunoo," you repeat. the name feels foreign on your tongue, as if you're stepping over a boundary you're not supposed to cross.

"okay, sunoo. i promise not to tell anyone what you know about the...the incident."

you catch yourself before you blurt out the word 'murder'. fear grips at you, as if saying the word out loud would bring down bad fortune.

sunoo takes a deep breath, slinging the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder. he approaches you again and with you standing, you're relatively eye to eye.

"you know what my consultation hours are. come by right after," sunoo says. you nod and seemingly satisfied, sunoo smiles, walking out the door of the lecture hall.

you linger for a moment before you realize you're all alon. a chill runs up your spine. you dash out of the hall faster than you've ever moved in your life.

---

"they're looking into the professors now. it's kind of fucked up, don't you think?"

you lift your eyes from the book you're reading, regarding your friend in confusion.

"what do you mean 'looking into the professors'?" you ask, scooting closer to hear better.

jake sighs, motioning for your whole table to squeeze in tighter. you scan the library quickly, to see if the coast was clear. your other friends press their shoulders against yours, waiting for jake to reveal what it is he has to say.

"they've cleared most of the students on kazuha's floor. it wasn't one of them." at this, jake turns to you and you nod.

you're brought back to the day after the murder. policemen knocked on everyone's door, questioning and taking witness statements. you had held your roommate's hand the whole time while you were being pressed for answers. you remember crying that night in fear for your own life.

"it only makes sense they widen their search," you supply. "they started with the professors teaching the classes kazuha was taking, correct?"

jake nods. "exactly."

"how is that fucked up?" sunghoon asks from your left, directly across jake. the latter rolls his eyes, tapping the table in mild annoyance.

"think about your own professors. do any of them look like the type to murder you? to want to murder you?" jake says in a whisper-shout. the whole table falls silent, nervous eyes meeting each other.

"no," sunghoon finally answers.

"right?! but what if one of them was capable. we wouldn't know. and if it was one of her professors, i'm sure kazuha suspected nothing, either" jake explains, emphasizing every word with a finger to the table.

you shiver, suddenly overcome with a dreadful fear.

"i need to go," you say, pushing yourself off your chair. you glance at your watch and realize it's time for you to meet sunoo, anyway.

you bid a quick goodbye to everyone before storming out of the library. the hallway seems even chillier than the freezing library. you wrap your arms around you protectively.

---

"you look shaken up. what's wrong?"

you swallow thickly as you shut the door behind you, eyes downcast. your breathing is labored, having run all the way from the library to the building that housed the professor's offices.

you look up to see sunoo standing by his desk, a look of concern on his face. he crosses the room in a few wide strides, fingers gently prying your chin up so you could look at him.

"did you run?" sunoo asks, reaching into his pocket. he hands a handkerchief to you, gesturing at your forehead.

"it's chilly in here. dry off before you get a cold," sunoo advises.

you take the handkerchief, absently dabbing at your forehead. you lean against the heavy wooden door.

"sorry, prof—i mean, sunoo," you begin, trying to steady your breath. "i came from a class and didn't want to miss you here."

sunoo smiles. "i was going to wait for you, anyway."

you meet his eyes but you say nothing, opting to straighten yourself up instead. this is the closest you've been to sunoo, and the way he looks so worried for you nearly threatens a smile out of you.

"you know, we could both get into big trouble for this," sunoo points out, walking back to his desk. he eases himself onto his chair, motioning for you to do the same on one of the two seats provided for his consultees.

you sit, suddenly nervous about what sunoo could possibly have figured out. you watch him rifle through a folder of papers before pulling one out.

"did you know kazuha had a boyfriend?" sunoo begins, setting the paper down and pointing to it. it's a copy of someone's student file.

you lift it to see better and a familiar name is typed at the very top.

yoshi kanemoto.

another post-grad getting his master's in anthropology or some other. part of the post-grad and law school varsity basketball team. he's a friendly enough guy, if just a tad bit shy. he and kazuha haven't been going out long, or so you've heard. you've seen him around your floor a few times and he didn't seem to ring any alarm bells in your head.

"it's always the boyfriend first," you observe.

when violent crimes against women are committed, the first place law enforcement looks into is any present or past relationships.

"accomplished young man, if i do say so myself," sunoo declares. "totally cooperative and was said to be devastated with the news."

"but...?" you ask, anticipating a caveat with the positive introduction.

"reports say they were fighting the night of the murder," sunoo expounds, shrugging.

"was there ever a history of violence? abuse?" you question.

sunoo shakes his head. "none that i've heard. but i was trying to pull some strings at the detective's office the other day. i guess i pulled one that put this whole thing into perspective."

you suck in a breath. "what did you find?"

there was a pause. sunoo purses his lips, exhaling.

"kazuha was nine weeks pregnant when she was killed."

you blink. it takes you a moment to realize what you just heard. you fall back against your chair, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. the hairs on your arm prickle.

"so...you think the fight was because of that. a-and yoshi killed her to get out of the responsibility?" you ask, voice trembling.

sunoo shrugs again. "maybe. maybe not. but it definitely puts kanemoto in a bad light."

you don't say anything, a weight in your chest rendering you speechless. you and sunoo sit in silence for nearly a minute, with sunoo carefully studying your expression.

"no one else knows this. only the detectives and me. and now, you," sunoo informs. "so, i need you to be very quiet about this."

"of course," you immediately agree. "i won't tell a soul."

sunoo smiles sympathetically, pushing himself off his chair. he comes around the desk, moving to sit across from you. he holds his hand out to you, waiting.

you place your hand in his, relaxing as he runs a thumb over your knuckles.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this," sunoo says, patting the top of your hand with his other one. "but when my top student asks, it's hard to refuse."

you laugh at this, eyes landing on your clasped hands.

"thank you for entertaining my...unusual request," you say, chuckling lightly.

"anything else you've discovered?" you ask, averting your eyes to the papers on sunoo's desk.

"if...i'm allowed to ask," you add, peering back at sunoo momentarily.

sunoo hums, reaching over to the scattered papers on his desk.

"yunjin is taking the rest of semester off, i hear," sunoo says, idly toying with the files.

"smart move," he adds.

you nod, throat thick once again with uncertainty. you stand, pulling your hand away, much to sunoo's surprise.

"leaving so soon?" sunoo questions. you smile, nodding politely.

"it's getting late and i don't really trust the campus nowadays after dark," you reason.

sunoo nods. he gestures for the door and you follow.

"let me walk you to your dorm, then," sunoo offers, smiling. a flash of something passes his eyes and you recognize it as hesitance.

"you don't have to," you automatically answer. you pause, realizing that you'd be walking alone at dusk through paths and hallways where a killer may have potentially walked.

the thought alone fills you with a visceral fear.

"i know," sunoo agrees. he hurriedly rushes to his desk, grabs his phone and keys before returning to your side.

"and i totally understand if you don't want me to, but i would feel much more at ease if i did," sunoo says, eyes pleading.

you nod, already reaching for the knob. "alright."

sunoo seems relieved as the two of you walk out of his office. he locks it before you start your way down the hall.

the journey is quiet, with sunoo's hands in his pockets and yours clasped tightly around the strap of your book bag. the night is chilly as you cross the courtyard to get to your dorm building, with barely anyone out at this hour. the walkways are lighted up to the extreme, illuminating every corner of the campus that the beams of light can reach.

you arrive at the entrance to your building and sunoo turns to you.

"now i can go to bed later tonight without any worry," sunoo says with a smile, eyes shaping into crescents. you can't help but grin back.

"please be careful on your way back," you remind. "and go straight home, if you can."

sunoo chuckles, reaching over to lay a hand on your arm. you inhale, the warmth from his palm bleeding through your thin sweater.

"i will," sunoo reassures. "i'll see you thursday, okay?"

you reach up shakily to grasp sunoo's outstretched arm, your own fingers curling around it.

"i'll see you."

---

somewhere, in a shadowy corner behind a bundle of brush, the figure stands, unmoving. concealed by the darkness, he watches through the windows, etching onto his mind the little details.

someone is playing the guitar next to an open window, puffing out smoke despite the building's prohibition on any narcotic substance. someone else is reading, the thick tome in their lap illuminated by a nearby lamp.

and someone else is merely looking out into the night sky. a pretty bundle of hair on their head billowing in the soft breeze. they seem nervous, shaken. lines appear between their eyebrows. like they're deep in thought.

the figure in the dark watches the thinker a little bit more, entranced by their beauty. eventually, they're satisfied. they stalk off into the night, the image of that one person's hair burned into the back of their eyelids.

---

"now, i understand midterms are coming up so i need you to be more attentive with your grades," sunoo eyes the lecture hall, staring pointedly at everyone's faces.

"don't wait until finals to scramble for that passing grade. i try to be gracious, but it's not a free-for-all," he continues. sunoo closes his laptop and the screen behind him goes black.

"remember, pre-test next week. you have tomorrow, the weekend, and monday to study," sunoo says with an air of finality.

"you may leave," he concludes with a wave of his hand. the room lets out a collective breath.

a few students stay behind as the rest trickle out of the doors, hounding sunoo with questions. he answers, face stoic and eyes focused as he gives curt, direct answers.

you stand from your seat, hovering around your desk, unsure when the others would leave. finally, they seem satisfied enough with their ambush on sunoo and they walk off, letting the door slam behind them.

sunoo spots you and his expression brightens. he beckons you over and you approach him, watching his slender fingers work on the stacks of paper in front of him.

"i must say, i'm excited to read your digest later tonight," sunoo admits, a bashful look in his eyes.

you laugh. "who gets excited to read a case digest?"

"i do," sunoo responds abruptly. "only when it comes to yours, though. you're always thorough, including all the details but organizing them in a way that's quick and easy to understand."

"that is an impressive feat, _______," he adds.

you feel your face heat up, your stomach giving way as if falling to the floor beneath you.

"you give me too much credit," you answer meekly, avoiding sunoo's eyes.

"you're a talented student. and i'm sure you'd be a talented lawyer eventually," sunoo reassures, shrugging on his bag. he steps in front of you.

"do you have a class after this?" sunoo asks. you shake your head 'no'.

sunoo nods, eyes trailing off to the side momentarily, as if pondering on something. he turns back to look at you, his signature bright smile returning.

"do you want to grab a bite together?"

you're taken aback by sunoo's offer, unsure what to do or say. the automatic response making its way up was a polite refusal. but sunoo has done you a favor and you think that this might be him asking for something back.

"are you sure?" is what you opt to say. sunoo's eyes narrow but he's smirking, as if this wasn't what he was expecting you to say.

"yes, i'm sure," sunoo replies. "don't worry about all that ethical stuff. i'm only taking you out for coffee and some snacks. besides, we're done with my class now, aren't we? i'm just plain old sunoo to you."

you giggle. "you could never be plain to me."

sunoo's head bows, his cheeks rounding even more as a blush creeps onto his face. you watch, amused, as sunoo obstructs half of his face with his hand.

"just say yes, _______," sunoo says from behind his hand.

you laugh fully this time, noticing as sunoo's ears turn red as well.

"alright, yes. i'd love a coffee with you."

---

the campus cafe stays open until midnight on most days, but since the incident, they've bumped it down to 9 pm.

it's now 8:30 and no one else was at the cafe but you and sunoo, seated at a booth tucked away near the back. the baristas have started to discreetly clean up for the night, emptying the pastry case little by little, but neither you nor sunoo had the heart to suggest leaving.

"that's some gnarly stuff," you comment as you try to digest the story sunoo had just told you about one case he worked on recently involving one woman literally stealing another woman's baby from her womb.

"it was sad overall," sunoo counters, leaning back in his chair from across you. you feel his legs shift against yours and a shiver runs up your spine.

at some point during the hours you've spent talking, sunoo had managed to sandwich your leg between both of his under the table. he held it there, rubbing against your ankle from time to time with his own, like your very own version of footsie.

"the trauma the actual mother got from it was unimaginable. and as for the woman who took her baby away from her, it was clear that she was not right in the right state of mind. those around her refused to see it as that and withheld proper care for her," sunoo recounts, staring directly into your eyes.

his brown irises seem brighter under the yellow-tinged light of the cafe, dancing with something you can't quite put your finger on.

before you could say anything in response, sunoo reaches over the table to where your hand rests. he takes it in his, slowly intertwining your fingers together.

your heart hammers against your chest. sunoo is still looking at you, silent, but a thousand words poring from his intense gaze.

"i'm parked not far from here and my apartment's just a short drive away," sunoo begins, his thumb drawing patterns onto your palm.

your eyebrows raise, your chest heaving as you take deeper breaths. your body seems to seize up.

is this really happening?

"gonna tell me more about your cases, professor?" you ask, purposely taking up his title again in conversation.

sunoo smiles knowingly, digging the nail on his thumb a little deeper into your palm. your breath hitches and you nearly quiver.

"i can. but i'd like to know more about the stories you have to tell if that's okay," sunoo says, rubbing over the little crescent-shaped dent he made.

"what do you want to know?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

sunoo grins.

"everything."

---

true to his word, sunoo seems to want to know everything.

everything about your body, that is. but he reasons that your body can tell a million different stories about yourself, too.

"like how you like being kissed," sunoo says, pulling away momentarily from your lips as he slams the front door shut behind him.

he presses his mouth against yours once more and you groan, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. sunoo slips his hands under your own blouse, nails dragging down your back as he guides you to the couch.

sunoo distances himself again, kissing down your neck, still clawing at your back. you squirm, whimpering pathetically.

"your body can tell me what your pain tolerance is," sunoo whispers lowly next to your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth.

"and i have a feeling it's pretty high, sweetheart."

you moan, pressing yourself closer to sunoo. he retaliates by shoving you down onto the sofa. your hair is a mess, your blouse skewed and wrinkled on your body.

"it is," you confirm, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

sunoo bites his lip, fingers working deftly on his belt. he gets it undone and hurriedly unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling it down along with his underwear.

"show me," sunoo commands, reaching down to grab your jaw, lining your face up with his half-hard cock.

you sit up, grabbing onto sunoo's firm thighs with one hand to steady yourself. you grab the base of sunoo's cock in the other, pumping slowly. gathering spit in your mouth, you envelop sunoo's length with your mouth, a hiss escaping the man standing above you.

"god, that mouth," sunoo begins, threading his fingers through your hair. "i knew it did more than give me the right answers in class."

you moan around him, peering up at sunoo through your lashes. sunoo's eyes darken as he watches you take more of him, going down all the way to the very base.

you pull back, coughing. sunoo tugs you closer by the hair and you yelp in surprise.

"come on, i know you can do better," sunoo urges.

you wrap your lips around sunoo again, sucking in hard. you start to move, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of sunoo in as you go. he doesn't shy away from noise, moaning and groaning as you repeatedly let his tip hit the back of your throat.

"fuck," sunoo mutters, yanking you off him.

"bend over the back of the couch, baby. keep that cute skirt on."

you wipe the spit from your chin, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. despite your debauched appearance, looking as if close to crying, the wetness between your legs is undeniable. you reach down to pull your panties off, and a dark spot is clearly visible on the fabric.

sunoo takes it from you, grabbing your chin.

"open," sunoo says. you oblige, letting your jaw fall slack. he shoves your panties in your waiting mouth and you gasp in surprise. the sound muffles around the damp cloth.

"bend over," sunoo barks. "don't make me repeat myself."

you lean over the back of the couch, sticking your hips out as far as they would go. you hear sunoo give a sound of satisfaction, his hands moving your skirt up further your body and exposing your ass and drenched pussy.

without a word of warning, sunoo plunges in half of himself and you cry out. you breathe through your nose, your underwear constricting any airflow through your mouth.

sunoo eases the rest of his way in and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

'yes! god yes! feels so good, sunoo!' is what you want to say but it comes out a garbled mess.

sunoo starts moving, shallow at first, as if pacing himself. slowly, he moves more and more of him out of your pussy before roughly thrusting back in. eventually, he finds a suitable rhythm, his hands gripping at your waist tightly.

"feels amazing," sunoo compliments. "my favorite student. so good for me, so obedient, always doing what i tell her to do."

you whine, looking back at sunoo. you'd give anything to see his face up close at this moment.

sunoo leans down, kissing your temple. he reaches in front of you, pulling the panties from your mouth. drool drips from your lips and you sob in embarrassment.

"dirty," sunoo comments disapprovingly. "drooling all over my couch like some whore."

"i-i'm your whore," you croak out weakly. despite the wetness in your mouth, your throat had seemingly dried up.

sunoo seems impressed by this, chuckling darkly. "yeah? you're my whore? mine to use?"

you nod, moaning wantonly as you feel sunoo deliver a particularly hard thrust.

"yes. d-do anything to me, please," you continue. sunoo grunts, movements speeding up.

your head spins, a knot in your abdomen tightening with each drag of sunoo's cock against your walls. you press your face against the couch, sunoo's name falling from your mouth like a mantra.

"gonna cum? gonna cum all over my cock?" sunoo taunts, pressing his chest against your back.

"yes," is all you can reply. sunoo' bites into your shoulder and you shudder, the sting adding to the sensations coursing through your whole body.

"me too," sunoo says. "gonna pump this pussy with my cum."

you whimper pathetically and this eggs sunoo on. his thrusts turn erratic and you're thrown into another level of pleasure.

"sunoo, i-i'm—!"

your sentence is cut off as your orgasm rocks through your whole body, a high-pitched moan echoing off sunoo's apartment walls. he continues to stretch you out, despite the sensitivity, chasing his own high.

"just like that, sweetheart, so tight, so goddamn tight," sunoo chants. a moment later, he shudders, finishing deep inside you, his whole cock buried in your pulsating hole.

soft whimpers continuously escape you, too dazed to form a coherent sentence. sunoo pulls out moments later, replacing his length with two of his fingers. you protest but it falls on deaf ears.

"i know sweetheart, i know," sunoo coos, kissing down the expanse of your back. you slump against the sofa, weak and panting.

sunoo gently moves you to face him, a soft smile on his face, a total contrast to the filthy act you just participated in.

"feel good?" sunoo asks, kissing your nose.

you nod, eyes suddenly heavy. "s'good."

sunoo chuckles, wrapping his arms around you.

"come on, we need to get you cleaned up."

---

the figure observes through glass tonight.

some of the thinker's hair is pinned up, the other half of it flowing down their shoulders. they laugh at a joke.

the thinker's phone goes off. the figure in the dark gives a start, fingertips tingling in excitement.

the figure slinks back into the shadow.

the thinker will finally be theirs.

---

"they made an arrest today."

you look up nervously from your phone, having just read the local news reports.

"the boyfriend, right?" sunghoon continues, holding his own phone up for everyone to see.

just as he says this, the rest of the bar's chatter slowly turns grim and quiet as patrons, mostly students from your university, discover the new development in kazuha's case through their own social media.

"she was pregnant," jake says in disbelief, eyes glued to his screen.

"he probably thought getting rid of them was the easiest way out," sunghoon deduces.

"but on campus? by stabbing her?" you counter. "he could have gone about this differently."

"maybe he panicked," jake offers. "or wasn't thinking straight."

"they're still going to put him on trial so he still has a chance to be proven innocent," sunghoon says.

you shake your head, leaning back in your seat. "i'm not convinced, is all."

jake snickers. "you have a better theory, ms. law student?"

you give him a look and jake holds his hands up in defeat. your phone suddenly vibrates on the table, momentarily distracting you. picking it up, you see a notification.

you're at paradoxx bar right?

you suppress a smile, realizing it's a text from sunoo. you type out a reply confirming your location and he responds just as quickly.

come meet me outside for a bit? i'm in the alley out back.

you take a quick glance around the table at your friends, but it seems as if jake and sunghoon were engaged in another topic. you pocket your phone, clearing your throat.

"i'm gonna go meet a friend real quick outside if you don't mind. i'll be back before you know it," you say, sliding out of your seat, ignoring the curious looks from your jake and sunghoon.

"want us to come with you?" sunghoon asks.

you wave him off. "i'll be fine. it's a busy night. lots of witnesses."

jake snickers at this but a look of discomfort washes over sunghoon's face. you pat his back reassuringly.

"i won't be long, i promise," you say, already walking away.

you exit the bar and the wind immediately whips your hair around. you sweep it out of your face, making your way to the alley between the bar and the building beside it, the designated smoking spot for the bar patrons or any other people passing by.

you're startled to see that it's completely empty. worrying for sunoo, you rush the rest of the way, footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"sunoo?" you call out as you round the corner.

true enough, your criminal law professor is standing there, partially concealed by the shadows, but you'd know that strikingly pale face from a mile away.

"hey," he responds, stepping fully into the glow of the bar's back door light, the only source of illumination in this little corner. he's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, making him look younger, possibly passing as a student himself.

"i missed you," sunoo whispers just as you step into his arms. he pulls you into an embrace, kissing the top of your head.

"we saw each other at class earlier," you point out, beaming up at him. sunoo chuckles, leaning down to kiss you square on the mouth this time.

he pulls away barely an inch, your noses still touching. his breath fans against your face.

"yeah, but i missed you," sunoo reiterates.

your mind flashes back to the night in his apartment, yet to be repeated. a fire ignites in you at the thought of having sunoo to yourself like that a second time.

"so much that we're agreeing to meet behind dingy bars now?" you tease, kissing a spot on sunoo's jaw.

sunoo hums, a large hand resting loosely around your neck. his grip tightens and you gasp softly, the first hints of arousal appearing within your core.

"exactly," sunoo responds.

you laugh lightly as sunoo backs you up against the bar's back wall, a knee pressing between your legs.

"here? really?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice. you wanted to berate him playfully for his choice of a quickie location but his hand around your neck tightens even more.

"s-sunoo—"

sunoo clamps down even harder on your throat and your eyes grow wide. you open your mouth to utter something, a safeword, but you belatedly realize you don't have one. not with sunoo.

"yes, here," sunoo confirms, smiling sweetly. you shake your head, tapping rapidly on his arm to signal that no, you need to stop.

but sunoo digs his fingers deeper into your skin. you gasp, but no sound comes out. your head starts to feel light and that's when you see sunoo pull something out of his back pocket.

the smooth glide of metal against metal reaches your ears. a moment later, you feel a sharp prick on your side.

a switchblade.

"do you get it yet?" sunoo asks, looking down at you with the same look he gave you whenever he asks a question in class. as if quizzing you on details of a case.

"i am the same height as kazuha's boyfriend," sunoo begins, piercing your torso deeper.

you tremble. you feel the urge to throw up.

"he doesn't dress a particular way, either. a mask, a hoodie with the hood up, and plain pants would do it. any camera that would have captured me going in and out of her room would have been fooled."

you claw at his arm now, frantically swiping at any part of him that you can reach, but you know that the oxygen is rapidly decreasing in your body, rendering you weak.

"you want to ask me 'how?'. 'why?'" sunoo continues. you wrap your hands around sunoo's arm that's holding you down instead, scared that any more movement would lead to the knife plunging even deeper into you.

"she was my closest colleague's student," sunoo says. "i saw her exit his office one time and i thought she was the prettiest thing i've ever laid eyes on."

"after you, of course," sunoo adds, kissing your cheek. you jerk away but pain shoots through your head.

you're losing too much air.

"it wasn't hard for me to gather enough information about her. you saw how easily i could weasel information out of the police. the university registrar is a walk in the park," sunoo explains with an amused laugh.

"now, why did i do it?" sunoo repeats. he smiles, placing another, longer kiss to the side of your mouth.

"just because."

what follows next is a blur to you.

you feel pain rip through your torso and you feel it repeatedly, over and over and over again. you want to scream. you have to scream.

but you can't.

the damp ground greets you like an old friend, slamming into you as you fall. there's a pain in your face as you lie facedown, in your head, too, but nothing compares to the burning you feel in your stomach, climbing up and down and all around all at once.

the pain disappears moments later, replaced by a dull, numbing throb. you feel cold but warm at the same time.

you feel sleepy.

you hear footsteps fading somewhere behind you but you don't give them any mind.

at this point, you just want to sleep.

the wind blows. your hair flutters one last time.

and then, you sleep.

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sunoo smut #sunoo scenarios #w: sunoo

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6lostgirl6 · 11 months

Text

Ties That Bind Part 1

Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder

A/N: I am very excited to be sharing another wonderful collab with the amazing person @britany1997! She has been very supportive and an absolute joy to work with! We have shared many laughs together while working on this fic! She is a very talented writer and friend and you should send her your love! She deserves it! I love you Britany! ❤️

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind.

Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate.

His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed.

But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.

Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.

He abandoned his meditation in a huff. Anakin liked to think he was a patient man, a good Jedi. Yet how could he sit back and do nothing? The visions would never stop, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

Despite his failures at meditating and stopping his mind from whirling, he was struck by a solution. He was deep in concentration, staring at the ground, your picture nestled against his uncovered chest.

The visions would undoubtedly stop if he could protect you and keep you safe from harm. What if the force hadn't been working against him after all? He was immediately filled with purpose, a fire in his eyes that couldn't ever be extinguished. He will defend you even if it means doing the unthinkable and abandoning the Jedi code.

What other reason would there be besides protecting the one you loved the most, even if it required being selfish? Absolutely nothing was of greater significance than you, his long-time friend, whom he had been pining over for many years. The forbidden feelings he could no longer ignore. There was no greater reason, no other reason, than you.

It was all for love.

Despite the summons from the Chancellor, Anakin thought the Galaxies Opera House was well worth the journey through Coruscant. Though the visions of your impending death haunted him, Squid Lake, a strange ballet performed by a team of Mon Calamari acrobats, calmed his worries and enabled his mind to focus on something far more pleasant. He wished he could take you to one as lovers rather than as companions one day once you are away from harm. The Chancellor, however, required his attention once more.

His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.

“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.

“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.

“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.

“Although they prevent you from loving freely in accordance with your own desires. They would never approve of your love for your friend or the things you would do for her.” He spoke with a voice filled with stomach-churning truth. “Your companion, (Y/N).”

Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"

"I know many things, Anakin." He responded. "You say they are selfless and care about others. But what would the council say if they learned of your hidden desires, your affection that you have for your fellow Jedi?"

For once, Anakin couldn't speak because the Chancellor's words struck him deeply. His eyes were fixed on the opera playing ahead of him as he slowly sunk into his chair. He wasn't watching the event, though; instead, he was fixated on his thoughts, his visions of your approaching demise, and the possibility that the council would learn of his feelings for you. They'd shun him. He couldn't save you if they were in the way. His heart was pounding, and his mind was racing.

It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts.

“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?”

No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.

Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.

It’d probably be easier to spar with someone else, you and Anakin had trained together as Padawans, practically grown up together. He knew every move you’d make before you could even think to make it. But, unfortunately for him, you could anticipate his every move as well.

You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.

“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest.

You groaned, “fine, I yield.”

He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased.

“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.

"Let's not pretend you didn't cheat, Ani." You continued jokingly. You leaned over to grab your fallen lightsaber when you failed to notice the unknown expression resurfacing on his face. However, it did not completely disappear, his darkening eyes fixated on your body, images racing through his mind of scenarios unsuitable for a Jedi.

He adored it when you addressed him as such.

His expression returned to normal as you straightened up, and he had a mischievous smile on his face once again. "Never, ever underestimate your opponent." He chuckled as he extinguished his lightsaber and attached the hilt to his belt.

“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression.

"Come now; I only tease." Anakin remarked softly, staring at you with a more genuine smile, one that could compete with the sun if he so desired. Since you were both padawans, he has consistently been an enchanting man. He had a way of charming himself out of most trouble and making one's heart feel like it was going to burst.

This was a secret you kept hidden within your heart for many years, the sentiments you had for Anakin that were more than just friendship. However, according to the Jedi code and attachment regulations, you did everything you could to drive those emotions away. Your feelings got less difficult to disguise as you practiced meditation and late-night self-reflection. In addition, you knew in your core that Anakin was an exceptionally gifted Jedi and that your affections for him were never going to be reciprocated.

“Everything alright?”

You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."

After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat.

“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”

You laughed. He didn’t.

“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”

“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.

You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?”

“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”

Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”

He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”

“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.

He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips.

He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

The walk to your quarters passed quickly as you exchanged stories with Anakin. You clutched your stomach as tears rolled down your cheeks as he told you the story of his last battle with General Grevious. Anakin had spent so much time with Obi Wan over the years, Anakin’s impression of his sarcastic banter was spot on.

“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”

Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.”

Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”

Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”

You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right.

You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.

Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?

Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk.

He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.

But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever.

If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.

But if you died? There was no living if not with you.

The Jedi Temple was destroyed.

Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood.

You could feel your heart frantically beating as you rushed through the halls of pure massacre, the walls forever tarnished by the horrors that had been committed. Fellow Jedi that you’ve trained with are lying on the floor lifeless, and some are in cauterized pieces. You felt like you could throw up at any moment, the hilt of your lightsaber held in your shaky grasp. You were in a state of delirium; your thoughts were filled with dueling lightsabers and people screaming in fear. However, there was one thing that was absolutely certain.

You needed to find Anakin.

‘Please, let him be safe.’ You thought to yourself as you managed to turn a corner, your other hand gripping your ribcage, your heart threatening to explode. ‘By the force, please protect him.’

You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear.

You rounded another corner that led towards the entrance of one of the temple’s many great halls. As you pushed through the entrance, a heavy feeling filled your chest, and you were completely unable to go any further. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel your breath failing you.

As you gazed into the distance, you noticed a familiar figure, clad in a brown robe with a hood covering his face, that you had never failed to recognize, even at a distance. As the figure walked towards you, a large group of clone soldiers followed behind him, weapons drawn. In his hand was his own lightsaber, which he clutched tightly in his grasp.

Anakin.

"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief.

You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”

You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”

“Only what needed to.”

“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes.

The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.

You pushed against his chest, trying to escape from his grasp but he refused to let you go. He held you tightly against him with one arm, using his other hand to brush hair from your face affectionately. A gesture that once would have made you blush now filled you with malice.

“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”

“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.

Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.

Taglist:

@prettywhenibleed @leiasolo77 @britany1997 @misslavenderlady @arianamhm @rottent33th @slaasherslut

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rillils · 2 months

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post fall bucky having a fear of heights?? ive always thought that he'd be afraid of heights, like he wasnt afraid of it at all before his fall, go ask steve. but after falling?? he tries to hide it from steve, how scared he is.. and steve, bless his poor soul, he blames himself for not realizing sooner, he thinks he shouldve known, he couldnt possibly have. hes always seen bucky as this brave courage man, and bucky didnt want to ruin steve's image of him worse than he already think he did. and oh my fucking god

THE POST PLANE CRASH STEVE BEING AFRAID OF TIGHT SPACES?? BECAUSE IT BRINGS HIM BACK TO FEELING THE COLD SEEP IN THROUGH HIS VERY BONES WHILE HE GETS CRUSHED BY ALL THE WATER, ICE, AND DEBRIS?? DONT GET ME STARTED OH MY GOD

HONEY I FEEL LIKE YOUR LEVEL OF CRUELTY TOWARDS ME SPECIFICALLY IS REACHING DANGEROUS LEVELS HERE

but I get it, I getchu hon, sometimes we just gotta put the blorbos in a Situation™, that's how we roll.

but holy shit 😭😭😭

I mean god, Bucky-

imagine how tough it must be for him, every time they're on a mission, 'cause he's first and foremost a sniper, isn't he? and for him, that often involves perching on the roof of really high buildings, and keeping as still as possible for as long as necessary - and above all, keeping a steady hand, because what is a sniper supposed to be if not precise and lethal and reliable?

and factor in all the other possible contingencies, too! like having to bolt if he's spotted by the enemy, and having to climb back down in a rush. or helping chase after the bad guys from rooftop to rooftop. or when, god forbid, they have to jump out of a plane and parachute themselves to a certain site.

it's an absolute nightmare for Bucky, but he just keeps trying to tough it out, right? grit his teeth, push through even when his flesh palm is clammy with sweat, even when his stomach is churning and his legs feel like jelly, even when his hands start shaking despite his best efforts to hold them still. it's scary and mortifying all at once, and he can't bring himself to say anything about it to anyone, especially to Steve. because he knows Steve would try to suggest he take it easy and stay behind, while Steve himself is out there risking his neck, and the very notion makes Bucky feel sick.

so he's just desperately hanging in there, right?

until something happens. he's dizzy, his hands are shaking too bad, he flubs a shot, Steve almost gets killed because of it. Bucky snaps. this is the last straw. he's done.

I mean, imagine how it must tear. him. apart. how horribly it must hurt him to admit to himself that he can't go on like this anymore. because on the one hand, fuck it all to hell, he's supposed to be by Steve's side! watch his six, protect him, make sure he makes it home in one piece! it's what Bucky's been doing ever since they were kids, it's a fundamental part of who he is! to even imagine letting Steve walk into a fight alone - no, not 'alone', without Bucky - is unthinkable. it's like denying himself a basic need. like denying who Bucky is, what he feels he was born to do, a biological imperative.

but. on the other hand, the thought of putting Steve in danger, of Steve getting hurt (or worse) because Bucky couldn't do his job properly, is even more unbearable.

Steve counts on him, trusts him with his life - as he should be able to do, if they're going to be a team - but how can Bucky allow that anymore, now that he can't even trust himself? how can he be what Steve needs, if he's going to let him down when Steve needs him the most? how would he ever forgive himself if something happened to Steve because of him?

he barely holds himself together until they get home, and then he just, he breaks down. stumbles over to the couch, crumples in on himself, trembling, pale like a ghost, taking in big gulps of air like he'll drown otherwise. telling a worried Steve, who's crouching next to him in a heartbeat, "I can't do this anymore".

now Steve, he had noticed that something was off for a while now, and Bucky's words just confirm what he already suspected. he thinks, of course Bucky's sick of this, of course he doesn't want to fight anymore - god knows he's got plenty of reasons to want to leave all this shit behind.

Steve could never imagine what the actual issue is, here - not until he's trying to tell Bucky that it's his right to retire if that's what he wants, that of course Steve supports him, and Bucky interrupts him to confess, in between sobs, where exactly the problem lies, and how he fears he's no longer fit to accompany Steve on missions, 'cause he'd risk becoming a liability rather than backup.

CUE A WHOLE SHITTON OF FEELS because fuck, how long has Bucky been feeling this way, and how did Steve not realize it sooner, and the way Steve's face twists with guilt when he wonders where this fear of heights might come from, and gives himself the most obvious amd most fucking heartbreaking answer, and Bucky can tell that he's hurting and blaming himself and they're just BOTH hurting and blaming themselves and hfgskfjskks HONEY WE'RE SPEEDRUNNING THROUGH ALL THE STAGES OF GRIEF HERE HELP

no, but. they're gonna have an honest conversation about this, okay? painful, yes, but also liberating. they're going to air out some of that hurt, and actually let it heal out in the open for once.

I figure there's gonna be lots of bargaining first, on both parts, like Bucky arguing that he could still fight, just maybe stick to the ground instead, and Steve telling him that he doesn't have to, and really he'd be happier knowing that Bucky's safe at home and not forcing himself into dangerous situations, and Bucky grumbling 'cause oh how the tables have turned, and just, you know, trying to find a way to compromise.

I think, maybe this is how Steve first starts to really, genuinely consider retiring, himself. like, not just picturing it in a distant, wistful way, oh wouldn't it be nice if we could do that, etc - but really, really entertaining the idea. letting himself plan it out. talking about it with Bucky, even with Sam and Nat, giving himself the chance to consider another kind of life. after all, there are plenty of battles to fight in the world, and not all of them require fists and guns, right? and if he can fight those battles too alongside Bucky, then so much the better 💖

CLAUSTROPHOBIC STEVE THOUGH OMG

somehow the first thing that comes to mind is that one scene from CATWS, when he and Nat find Zola's computerized ass and he blows up the building, and they're stuck in a tiny hole under all the rubble until Steve gets them both out. I CAN PICTURE ONLY TOO VIVIDLY HOW FUCKING SCARY THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR HIM, OH MY GOD

as somebody who shares that kind of phobia, may I submit to you one of the most obvious, most mundane monsters he might face: ELEVATORS. especially of the narrow, non-see through kind, where you're literally locked inside a metal box until it releases you from that torment. IF IT DOES. like honey the anxiety is real af okay

in the spirit of putting the blorbos in a Situation™, please picture them both in an old-fashioned elevator.

Steve hasn't mentioned his fear to Bucky, he's just been lucky so far, so he didn't have to bring it up. but the stupid thing is so slow, and the space inside is so small, and sure, Steve never minded being in Bucky's close proximity, but he can't stop thinking about getting the fuck out of there asap.

at some point the fucking thing stops, and oh good god they're stuck inside, and it's gonna take a while for help to come.

and Bucky, sweet, horny, unsuspecting Bucky, just makes a little joke about knowing just how they could pass the time until then, wink wink. he crowds Steve back against the already narrow wall, starts sucking languid kisses into Steve's neck-- and Steve's frozen, breathing in quick shallow breaths that could be mistaken for gasps of pleasure, holding onto Bucky with an iron grip because he can feel himself spiraling into panic, heart racing wildly, eyes darting from wall to wall like he can see them rapidly closing in on him, suffocating him, squeezing him in--

and it takes a moment for Bucky to realize what's really going on, but when he pulls back and sees Steve so terrified, hyperventilating and about ten seconds away from passing out, he switches into Protective Boyfriend mode like *snaps fingers*

he's like, "sweetheart, what's wrong?", and the second Steve gasps "out, I need to get outta here, now", Bucky springs into action and pries the elevator's door open with his bare hands, helping Steve climb out (the next floor was already into view) and following suit.

of course they're gonna talk about it (and realize that they should maybe stop hiding their respective fears from each other), and from then on... yep, they stick to stairs <3

#stucky just stucky #stucky #this got long i'm so sorry #also #i really wanted to scribble a little thing about this - either headcanon or possibly even both - like a decent-looking fic you know #but the braincell refused to cooperate :'(#either way HONEY I LOVE YOU EVEN WHEN YOU MAKE ME AND THE BOYS SUFFER LIKE THIS #*SCREECHES*#i hope the read-more works ahsdjkshdkjsh

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deancasbigbang · 7 months

Text

Title: right in the palm of your hand

Author: LoversAntiquities

Artist: JenniferB

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Others (mentioned)

Length: 39000

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, descriptions of torture

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Trauma Recovery, Future Fic, Post-Season 12 Finale

Posting Date: October 30, 2023

Summary: Five years after Castiel's death, Dean has built a life in Murphy, North Carolina. A decent life, with a house he built with his own hands, and Jack, now five years old and beginning kindergarten in the fall. Only, after a string of failed relationships and sleepless nights staring at the urn on his windowsill, he makes an unwilling decision--to bury Castiel for good. Only, the night he and Jack bury Castiel's ashes, the unthinkable happens--Castiel rises from the dead, wounded from his time in the Empty, and with his resurrection comes questions Dean never thought he would need answered. Namely, how long will Castiel stay with him--and will the Empty come back for him, once and for all?

Excerpt: On the other end, the phone rings three times—then a fourth, and Dean’s heart sinks. A fifth, and the dial tone ends halfway, the noise replaced with a tired sigh. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be calling?” Dean snorts and tilts his head back, eyes closed. “Jack had a hard day. Swear, the kid’s brain never shuts off.” Mary hums a noise. A metal chair scrapes the concrete floor on the other end, grating in Dean’s ears. Kitchen, then. “When you were three, you used to go on these tangents,” she says, mirthful yet somehow sad. “I couldn't understand what you were saying most of the time, but on the days you talked the most, it took forever to put you to bed.” “I probably gave you hell,” Dean says. He rubs the bridge of his nose, the pressure only furthering the ache behind his eyes. “I’m turning into John.” For a long moment, Mary doesn’t reply. Dean listens to her walk, her socked feet padding lightly through the Bunker; a door opens, then clicks shut. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” she says, quiet. “What happened?” Nothing, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, today’s incident was barely a drop in the bucket of Dean’s bad parenting skills, but it still stings all the same. “I’m—The kid scares me to death,” he says with a pained laugh. “I thought I was getting better at this. I thought, if I did everything the opposite of what dad did to me, then I’d finally redeem myself, but I…” A breath. “He scared me today, and I—I scared him.” “Dean.” Her bed frame creaks. Dean imagines her sitting on the edge of her mattress, dressed in a cotton robe with her hair pulled back, her eyes just as tired as the day he left. “I wish you would’ve let us help.” “I know.” Admittedly, he should have let Mary and Sam take on co-parenting duties, but Jack was Castiel’s son, and for some reason, letting anyone else take responsibility of him felt like betrayal. “I’m not gonna throw a kid in your lap again, especially after you just…” After you came back, he wants to say. “Know it ain’t been easy on you, either.” “It hasn’t,” Mary says, “but it’s getting better.” There’s that, at least.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel

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cherry-coloureddfunk · 1 year

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if i should think of love, i think of you, kylo ren

Kylo blinked his eyes blearily to get the look of exhaustion out of them. He did a quick double take, his eyes wild with the hope that you were still in his arms. His lips curved into a sloppy grin as he inched toward you. Every time you breathed, he observed the motion of your chest. Just like this, you were very stunning. So beautiful and calm in his once discarded black T-shirt from yesterday night's activities. He sighed with relief. He hadn't yet had to wake up for the day, as he knew his automatic curtains had been programmed to open when it was time.

You were snuggled up against him, and he stifled a groan as his hands traced the shape of your body. His index finger slid down from your shoulder, around your waist, and onto your exposed thigh. You awoke slightly, and Kylo put his hand on top of your waist, obviously feeling awful for waking you up. You mumbled something incoherent that made Kylo snicker behind your back. He looked at your face intently, as if attempting to imprint the image on his mind permanently. It was at moments like these he was the happiest.

If he was being honest, he couldn't remember a time when he felt so happy, so content;

So whole.

You were the source for it all. You kissed the blood and pain away from his wounds and treated him with the kind of tenderness and concern he had never experienced before. Kylo had never felt anything like this for anybody before you, and it was a lot to take in.

At times it was too much.

He questioned whether or not he was worthy of you. More and more, as he contemplated it, a shadowy feeling began to settle over his subconscious. Why could an angel like you be so patient and kind towards him to the point it made his chest hurt? Why would someone like you love someone like him who’s done the atrocities he had? Kylo realized the risks involved. Since he was so widely reviled, it was obvious that he would have made enemies if he had ever let himself fall in love. Many people had the impression that Kylo Ren was a merciless tyrant who would eliminate any threat to his reign. Yet you never once made him feel like an emperor. He felt most like Ben with you. Though he despised and even detested the moniker, whenever you were in his immediate vicinity, he became euphoric and carefree, just as he had been as a child. Someone being that close to him was obviously risky. When he initially attempted to drive you away, he failed miserably because, as he'd suspected all along, he just couldn't deny you. The persistent negative thoughts in his mind kept him on edge. Holding you tightly, as if he thought you'd slip away somehow.

He remembered the day he’d done the unthinkable, killed his father.

He remembered what you did for him.

You had made yourself comfortable on the black velcro sofa in the far corner of Kylo's living quarters. You hung your feet over the sofa and put a hand on the hard, dark ground. Black and white were the predominant colors of Kylo's room, creating a consistent pattern. You weren't as bored when Kylo was out discovering new worlds and doing first-order responsibilities, thanks to the data pad he gave you. Using the holonet, you tuned in to your favorite radio station, which played reports on the many exciting activities and breathtaking vistas to see on the many worlds. After learning that Kylo was born on Chandrila, you kept re-watching an episode in which the planet was discussed. He's always wanted to take you on a getaway, as he thought it would be amazing to see Hanna City with you by his side. If you went on a trip with him, he would waste all of his money on high-end eateries and tourist attractions.

All for you.

The blast door to the chamber opened, and you put away your data pad as you saw a towering, recognizable figure appear in the opening. As you heard his booming entrance, you couldn't help but crack a grin. You awaited Kylo's return from work so that he could give you the kiss he always gave you. At this stage, it had become routine. But you frowned when the only sensation was the wind from his quick departure.

You glanced over at him, his massive figure bent over the foot of the king-size bed where the two of you spent your most intimate moments together. You sprang to your feet and walked over to lay a hand on his shoulder, comforting him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your voice dripping with concern, as you rubbed up and down his back.

“I did it.” A modulator in his still-on helmet caused his voice to lower by many octaves. The irregular rhythm of his breathing within the helmet made you wrinkle your brows.

“Did what?” You asked, not having a clue as to what he was referring to. You waited for him to answer, wanting to help him with whatever he was going through. You hated to see him so distraught.

“I killed him.” He replied. Despite the modulator, you heard the crack in his voice filled with pain and regret. He shook his head frantically, “I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.”

“What… Kylo, who did you kill?” You asked quietly, fear evident in your voice— not fearful of Kylo himself but what could happen to him because of who he killed. You knew many people didn’t like him but couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Ever. You stayed quiet, hoping he would fill the silence and tell you what happened.

Kylo must’ve noticed your tone, “I didn’t mean…” You paused for a second to look him in the eye. You could see the tears on his face and the glistening in his eyes. His broad mouth scrunched into an agonizing grimace. You lifted a hand to cup his face as you gasped. When you touched him, he almost immediately relaxed; clearly, he needed this. You were essential to him. With his eyes closed, he let himself be comforted by your touch as more tears ran down his cheeks. You slid your finger behind his neck and gently tugged, allowing him to lay his face on your shirt.

“I killed my father.” he let out meekly, partly muffled by your shirt in his face. You felt his tears dampening the material. You froze at the information, not really knowing how to process it. Kylo seldom ever talked about his father in a positive light, but when he did, it was usually memories from his childhood. The fact you’d never get to meet the father of the man you were in love with did make you a little sad. When you didn’t respond for a few minutes, kylo began to become frantic.

“But this doesn’t change your mind, right— you still love me? Right? I love you— Please… Please don’t leave me.” He choked in between sobs, gripping at the material of your shirt, panicking, spewing out incoherent sentences, “Say you love me— please, star. I need you… so so much.” His voice broke entirely as his voice was barely above a whisper towards the end of the sentence.

“I love you, Ky.” You spoke immediately, not wanting to scare him any further, “I always have, and I always will.”

“Really?” He uttered, looking up at you, glassy eyes filled with hope, “… you’re not going to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You carded your fingers through his hair, moving so you could now sit on his lap. You grabbed his hand, placing little kisses on each of his knuckles, much like he’d always do for you when you were upset, “Isn’t that what an empress does for her emperor?”

He smiled at that for a split second, which then turned into a frown. He ran his fingers over your thigh, taking a minute to try and steady his breathing, “I just thought that if I’d done it, snoke would be proud, and it would show that I’m no longer— tempted.”

You immediately understood. Sometimes when you two would lay in bed, Kylo would confess things to you that he wouldn’t dare tell anyone else. He confided in you, and you loved him for it. You’d listen for hours and hours as he’d open up to you. One night, in particular, stood out when Kylo began to question his loyalty to the first order. He would always find himself playing with the ends of your hair and stroking your cheek, thinking out loud;

“What if this isn’t worth it in the end?”

Kylo was obviously not wicked in your eyes. Maybe it was because you saw the side of him that he tried so hard to keep hidden from everyone else. Even though Kylo had a tough demeanor, he was really a softie and a very kind person on the inside. This proved without a reasonable doubt that he had succumbed to the allure of the Force's light side. He apparently believed that murdering his father would further solidify his descent into evil, yet the reverse was true. Others saw him as a shell of the man he used to be; he appeared so shattered.

For you, though, it was the complete opposite. You got the impression that Kylo did what he did because he wanted to make a statement, to prove everyone wrong and achieve what they said he couldn't do in the first place. This, along with snoke's encouragement, led to Kylo's actions, and they couldn't be undone. Time and time again, you assured Kylo that you would stand by his side no matter what battle he decided to fight.

If he wanted to watch the world burn, you’d burn it with him.

”I shouldn’t have done it.” Kylo muttered, his face buried into the crook of your neck as you stroked his hair lovingly.

“I know, I know.” You lift his face from its place on your neck, placing soft kisses all over his jaw.

The whole night was spent with you whispering comforting words into his ear, staying up to make sure he eventually fell asleep in your arms.

Kylo’s love for you just blossomed even more, that night, though he wasn’t sure that was even possible.

You never judged him for that night. You had seen the most vulnerable parts of him that he knew no one else would ever get to see ever again, and you didn’t have a single negative thing to say about him– about what he did. He knew he deserved to suffer for what he did, and he knew that much was coming but what he didn't get was why you stuck right next to him.

Even if you had the slightest intention of leaving, he knew you would have left long ago. He's given you a lot of chances, and the stars know it. This was the first time he'd ever put his confidence in someone and not feel any remorse for it. Kylo sighed weakly as a wave of emotions crashed over him.

What were you doing to him?

When Kylo felt you shift against him, he froze; his eyes met yours with devotion and affection. Your eyes flew awake, and you stopped looking around as your gaze fell upon Kylo. As you blinked away the sleep from your eyes, a grin crossed your face.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He responded, giving a breathy chuckle.

You felt your cheeks burn up, tucking your face into the crook of Kylo’s neck. “What’re you doing up?”

Kylo chuckled at that. You've always had such a reserved personality. When it came to anybody else, he would have found it irritating, but he thought it was cute when it was you.

“Just thinking. Go back to sleep, my love.” He snuggled up to you, kissing the top of your head gently.

“Are you going to go to sleep?” You asked while removing your head from his neck and placing it on the pillow so that you could face him.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” He questioned in a tone that suggested mild amusement; he clearly enjoyed making you squirm with his questions.

“Yes.” In a voice just barely softer than a whisper, you replied. You and Kylo had been dating for a while, but you were still too embarrassed to tell him what you really wanted. And this was especially true when all you wanted was his love and attention, or even just to cuddle up with him. But he would give you everything and so much more. You didn’t have to ask.

He smiled, “Okay, let's go to sleep, my love.”

“Okay, goodnight Ky.” you snuggled up closer to him, your half-asleep state making you semi-aware of what you were saying.

You two only said "I love you" when it really counted, never on arbitrary days like today. You and Kylo obviously placed a high value on the emotive connotations of the term. The wordless admittance was sufficient to convey the sentiments you both carried for one another, and it was enough for the two of you, as it was worth a thousand "I love yous" in both of your eyes.

Kylo and you fell asleep in one other's arms, your legs entwined, your breaths steady, and your hearts ultimately beating in unison.

If Kylo had to think of love;

He’d think of you.

#kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren #ben solo #ben solo deserved better #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x you #ben solo x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #adam driver #adcu fanfiction #adcu fluff #kylo redemption #kylo

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britany1997 · 11 months

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Ties That Bind

Part One

Yandere Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi Reader

Surprise y’all! I’m so incredibly excited to share part one of this collab fic with @6lostgirl6 !!!! Sixx and I put equal work into this so please go and show her some love! I loved working with my bestie on this it was so fun and she’s so kind and encouraging❤️

Warnings: general yandere behavior, mentions of deaths

Dividers from @6lostgirl6

Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind.

Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate.

His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed.

But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.

Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.

It was all for love.

His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.

“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.

“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.

“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.

Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"

It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts.

“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?”

No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.

Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.

You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.

“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest.

You groaned, “fine, I yield.”

He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased.

“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.

He adored it when you addressed him as such.

“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression.

“Everything alright?”

You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."

After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat.

“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”

You laughed. He didn’t.

“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”

“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.

You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?”

“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”

Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”

He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”

“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.

He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips.

He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”

Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.”

Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”

Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”

You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right.

You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.

Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?

Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk.

He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.

But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever.

If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.

But if you died? There was no living if not with you.

The Jedi Temple was destroyed.

Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood.

You needed to find Anakin.

You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear.

Anakin.

"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief.

You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”

You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”

“Only what needed to.”

“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes.

The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.

“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”

“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.

Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.

Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @pixielostboy @dwaynesluscioushair @arbesa-mind @hallotonia @anna1306 @bookworm551 @flower-crowned-lady @bloodywickedvamp @lostboys1987girl @kurt-nightcrawler @dwaynedelight @rynsfandomsfun @ghoulgeousimmaculate @walmartfairy69 @bitchyexpertprincess @arenpath @warrior-616 @ria-coolgirl

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honey-beann · 6 months

Note

Sooo does this mean we can get some nines fluff? plssss?

Sweet, and Soft, and Gentle

Nines x Reader

Well, this certainly isn't the fluffiest thing I've ever written, but here's a little fic that I wrote randomly last night because I am weak to whatever the hell this trope is haha. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1,643

The front desk assistant walked quickly into the bullpen, looking a little bit nervous as he cleared his throat slightly, catching the attention of everyone there as he did so (much to his chagrin).

Today was his very first day without the desk manager present after she had called out sick, and of course that also had to be the day that an unexpected visitor with an almost unbelievable reason for coming in waltzed her way into the office, asking for someone that the poor assistant had never once heard anyone ask for before.

So now, here he was, walking as quickly as he could without causing alarm in an attempt to stay ahead of you so that he had the opportunity to ask the many precinct workers if they happened to know anyone by your name.

Sure, you had requested one man in particular, but he just couldn't imagine what someone like you could ever need someone like him for, so he opted instead to announce your presence to the entire room in hopes of someone you actually knew telling him that it was okay if you came in to visit without a supervising attendee present.

"Sorry to bother you guys, but I have someone by the name of-"

"Nines?"

Your voice was a little quiet and hesitant as you spoke, as if you were worried you might be in the wrong place.

Immediately, all eyes shifted from the front desk assistant to you, including a pair of steely gray orbs that had notably not been watching the man standing at the front of the room prior to your voice being heard.

To everyone's surprise, the android who went by the very same name you had spoken stood up, abandoning his coat on the back of his chair, which he left two entire feet away from his desk as he made his way over to you.

And that alone was a shock.

Nines was the office neat freak, and regardless of weather, when he moved away from his desk he always put that jacket of his on, no matter how brief the trip away would be.

And to leave his chair out of place?

It was almost unthinkable to imagine he would do something like that. Hell, he even begrudgingly pushed Gavin's in when the detective left it sitting away from his desk.

But here Nines was, walking toward you, a stranger to damn near everyone in the office, as if nothing else in the world ever had or ever would matter more.

You let out what appeared to be a sigh of relief at the man's approach, smiling tiredly up at him as he offered you a faint grin, one that touched his eyes far more than it did his lips.

"Button."

He said as he grew closer, causing nearly the entire office to look around at one another in surprise.

Had Nines just used a pet name?

You blushed a bit but took a few steps forward, meeting the android closer than you would have otherwise as he reached down to cup the side of your cheek, allowing you to lean into his touch contentedly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden visit?"

He asked gently, causing you to shrug your shoulders a bit in response, cheeks still pink with embarrassment.

"I uh, I had to make a delivery next door and thought I would pop in to say hi, but then I learned that I wasn't actually on your guest list yet so I tried to back out of it, except I didn't want anyone at the desk to think I was just some weirdo who had been trying to get in randomly so I decided to ask if someone could escort me in to say hello... Kind of a dumb idea in retrospect..."

You sighed, gaze cast downward as the android in front of you raised a brow at your words, clearly confused about something, but more than patient enough to allow you to finish your thought.

"I'm sorry for bothering you at work."

You continued softly, refusing to make eye contact with Nines until he tutted and used two of his fingers to lightly push your chin upward, all but forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke.

"Listen to me, Button."

He said almost sternly, though his eyes were alight with a slightly smug amusement,

"You're never a bother."

You sputtered a bit at the kindness of the android's words, but had very little time to reply before Nines was turning towards the desk assistant.

"Why couldn't you find her on my accepted visitors list? Is the system down?"

He asked, his tone full of a nearly unkind sternness far different from the one he had regarded you with as he spoke.

The assistant blanched.

"To be honest Detective, I never checked... During my training I was told that you never got visitors, so I had assumed that you just didn't allow for them..."

Nines scoffed, turning his attention back towards you, expression as apologetic and soothing as ever,

"It was only a misunderstanding."

He said gently, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear as he glanced back toward the desk assistant,

"One that I am sure will be remedied in the future."

That sentence was damn near growled, and the assistant was quick to nod before rushing off under the guise of work.

Strange, considering his lunch break was only three minutes away.

Nines however, could not have cared less about how much he had undoubtedly frightened the young man, and instead leaned forward, bumping his forehead lightly against your own as he sighed, murmuring a quiet apology before you shook your head and stood on your toes in order to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

Nines seemed a bit surprised at this, but grinned nonetheless, reaching an arm around your back and using it to tug you closer before he gently applied a downward pressure, urging you to stand normally as he leaned further forward to better accommodate for the height difference the two of you shared.

The entire room watched on in awe save for a few pairs of exasperated eyes, which remained mostly trained on the screens in front of them.

But to everyone else, this was far too jarring to even imagine looking away from.

It just didn't make sense.

You were sweet and soft and oh so gentle, everything a city like Detroit could've eaten up and spat out in a second.

And Nines was well...

Nines.

Even those who were closest to him would call him unyielding at best, and occasionally outright cruel at worst.

No one had ever seen him bend to the will of anything.

So why was he quite literally bending down to press his lips to yours as you all but melted into his touch, obviously soothed by his typically threatening presence?

The entire precinct watched on in shock as you smiled against the rk900's lips, pulling away after a few seconds to plant a gentle kiss to the very tip of his nose as he chuckled quietly, his eyes rolling ever so slightly in a way that made it obvious how much he enjoyed your foolish expression of adoration.

"You have a very interesting way of saying hello, little one."

Nines said softly, his hand moving to cup the back of your head as he regarded you with amusement, eyes following the gentle curve of your smile lovingly.

You blushed a bit, but couldn't help but grow giddy beneath his gaze, mouth opening slightly to comment,

"Are you not a fan?"

You asked, watching as Nines all but scoffed before shaking his head,

"No, I think I prefer the way you go about things presently over anything else you might come up with."

He teased before planting a soft kiss against your forehead and pulling away, glancing towards the bullpen full of officers and detectives who were staring shamelessly at the two of you.

Usually, he would roll his eyes, or even laugh if he caught the entire room watching him like that, but this time he ignored them completely, glancing down at you and offering his arm before speaking again.

"How about I take you out to lunch to make up for all of the confusion, hmm little one? Make coming to visit a little bit more worthwhile?"

You grinned and nodded in response, grabbing his arm and taking a few steps towards the exit alongside him when you suddenly stopped, gasping lightly as you realized that Nines was missing something he would typically consider important.

"Your jacket!"

You announced, dashing over to the garment before knocking the chair it had been hanging on back into the spot against his desk with your hip thoughtlessly, your smile dangerously close to contagious for all who watched as you rushed back to the man who remained standing near the doorway, amusement evident in his expression.

"Thank you, Button."

He said genuinely as you grew closer, holding his familiar white jacket out to him,

"Whatever would I do without you?"

You laughed cheerily at that, and everyone watched as you took Nines' arm once more, walking out of the building and into the warm afternoon air side by side.

The room was silent for a few moments afterward, before murmurs began breaking out around the office, until finally everything got quiet again after Gavin piped up rather loudly,

"Who the hell was that?!"

He shouted, a confusion that nearly everyone in the room shared evident in his tone.

But still, not everyone had been left in the dark, and three men sitting at their respective desks spoke up in accidental unison to prove it, all of them sounding mildly exasperated and reasonably amused.

"His wife."

#dbh x reader #c: nines #nines x reader #rk900 x reader #dbh nines x reader #dbh fics #dbh x reader fluff

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

Text

Decadent chapter 4

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: Miguel did the unthinkable and now you are asleep in his bed. Will he lose you personally and professionally?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings/notables: NSFW. 18+, cursing, smut, p in v, oral- f receiving, blood, violence, fear. Power imbalance. Miguel is a bad boy. You've been warned. not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"M-Miguel," you managed to whisper, your fingers twitching as you tried to reach for him.

Seeing your distress, and hearing his name on your lips, brought him back to reality. The guilt he felt was crushing, but he deserved it. He was an animal and he had hurt you.

"I won't bother you again, sweetheart. Just rest, okay?" Then he turned to leave.

You said his name again, making him halt.

"Stay."

Miguel watched you sleep the entire night.

He didn't experience fatigue in the same way the average human did, and even if he did, he wouldn't have been able to rest.

Not with you hurt.

Miguel knew what he was. He wasn't expecting you to ever love him, or even fully understand him. He wasn't looking for your blessing, or for you to somehow accept the creature he was.

A killer. And worse...

You were the one person he hadn't wanted to violate, and his desire to never hurt you was partly selfish. He couldn't afford to lose you as his research assistant. He was certain, given time, that the two of you could make a breakthrough in his...condition.

Which was why he should have known that fucking you was the absolute worst idea. If only he hadn't kissed you...

Well, the truth was out now and he would have try and pick up the pieces. If you were as smart as you seemed, you would wake up, tell him to go fuck himself, and move to the other side of the world.

But he hoped you wouldn't.

He honestly didn't regret biting you. Unfortunately, you tasted and felt so good - his cock twitched just thinking of the rush of blood on his tongue while your hot, wet cunt gripped him tight.

What he regretted was scaring you - for your sake. But honestly, your sweet, tender whines of distress - the terror in your wide, bright eyes...he would give anything to see it again. He would dream about your pliant, tender body, helpless in his arms, succulent red blood oozing from your neck... The things he wanted to do to you, even now, were nothing short of depraved.

He couldn't help his thoughts, but he would try to control his actions. It was the very least he could do after how he treated you.

So he lay beside you in his luxurious, king-size bed, watching you breathe slowly in and out, and didn't budge. He ignored the beautiful, inflamed wound on your delicate neck. He paid no mind to the straining of his weeping, hard cock.

No. He couldn't.

You awakened after a very deep sleep, refreshed but disoriented.

Your eyes darted around as you struggled to remember where you were and why exactly you weren't in your own bed.

Then you saw him.

Miguel was still lying beside you, fully awake, bare chested, with his head propped up on his hand. He whispered your name, waiting for your brain to catch up to your surroundings.

All at once, you remembered what happened. Gasping, you bolted upright, your chest heaving as you examined both hands and arms, to make sure you could move. Your hand flew to your neck, where you felt two distinct, tender wounds.

Miguel gave you a minute to get your bearings without trying to soothe you. It was important that you decide, without any convincing from him, if you were going to run out of here screaming. He really wouldn't blame you.

Feeling fully awake, you glared down at him, waiting for an explanation. When he said nothing, you slapped his shoulder with the back of your hand, only half-seriously.

"Miguel, what the hell?"

He wasn't expecting that. Slowly sitting up beside you, he assumed you would go right back to your office banter, with the way you'd slapped him. So he instinctively leaned in - which made you automatically shrink away, easing back down to your pillow.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," you said quickly, realizing you had just hauled off and slapped a vampire.

Your instant meekness and submission made him want to do filthy things to you, but now was not the time...or was it?

"A-are you a vampire?" You timidly questioned, pulling the thick covers back over your body as if they would protect you from such a creature.

"No." He shook his head.

"But...you bit me." Your lip trembled, making him want to suck it into his mouth. He wanted you so badly that he couldn't even bring himself to be disgusted by his monstrous thoughts.

"I did," he finally answered, reaching to trace your jawline, thrilled when you didn't flinch away from him.

"You...you drank my blood," you whispered, as if afraid of angering him by speaking too loudly.

"Yes," he breathed, his eyes flickering down to your mouth. You were so soft and beautiful and just a little afraid. Madness began to creep in as he imagined dragging you across his lap and sinking both his cock and his fangs into your supple body.

"Miguel," you whimpered, trembling as he caged you in with his forearms on either side of your head, pulling the covers away from your body.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his erection pressing into your thigh.

You gasped as he licked a trail up your throat, making sure to run his tongue over your fresh wounds. Slick wetness pooled between your legs despite your trepidation.

Kissing his way down your neck, he shifted down your body, pushing the t-shirt he'd dressed you in up over your heaving breasts.

The temptation to sink his fangs into your gorgeous tits and suck your blood-covered nipples was almost too strong to bear. But he was going to make you feel good first.

Licking and sucking each nipple, he made sure to cause you no pain.

You were confused, fearful and so turned on - your body betraying your common sense as you pushed your fingers into his dark curls and moaned his name.

Smiling in satisfaction against your soft stomach, he kissed his way down to the boxers which covered your wet heat. He could smell you. Without hesitation, he yanked them down and pushed your thighs apart.

"Tell me you want this," he commanded, his eyes flashing bright red as he stared at your slick pussy, pushing his joggers off his body.

Your body was quaking with desire - or was it terror? "A-are you going to hurt me?" You meekly whispered.

He didn't answer. Instead, he licked all the way up through your folds, groaning at how soaked you were. Sliding his hands underneath the curve of you ass, he started fucking you on his tongue. His nose nudged your clit with each passing thrust, pulling a sigh of rapturous pleasure from your throat.

Sinking his tongue deeper, and careful to shield his fangs from hurting you, he jerked your hips against his face, faster and faster until you were shrieking, fingers fisting the sheets, drenching his face in your slick.

He didn't give you one second to recover before he climbed on top of you and thrust his cock deep and hard into your cunt.

Then he stopped, waiting for your euphoria to subside. You stared up at him, blissed out, but with still so many questions in your eyes. He wanted to comfort you - to assure you that you were safe in his arms, but was that even true?

Running his tongue deliberately over his fangs, he watched as you shrank beneath him, your bright eyes widening.

Thrusting into you gently, he taunted you a little. "Are you afraid, sweet girl?" Tenderly brushing his fingers across your cheek, his cock twitched inside you as you shuddered.

"Y-yes," you whimpered, somehow wanting him to comfort you rather than leave you alone. You kind of hated yourself for it, but it felt good to be weak for him...to please him.

Fucking you agonizingly slowly, he realized he'd never had you underneath him like this. You were almost always on top, in his lap, or up against his office wall. The pure domination he felt over you made him growl your name.

"Do you want me to stop?" he murmured, hoping to hear another sweet cry or feel you shiver.

"Don't hurt me," you pleaded, even as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. You couldn't help yourself as you tilted your hips up to meet his thrusts, the two of you working up a delicious pace.

Groaning in satisfaction, Miguel took one of your legs and lifted it up over his shoulder, sinking so deep inside you that you almost screamed.

"You look so pretty when you're afraid...my sweet girl," he panted, watching your face contort in pleasure.

"Miguel, please!" You gasped out, grasping at his broad shoulders.

"I know, baby," he moaned, using a bit of superhuman speed to vibrate you relentlessly - speeding up so suddenly that you instantly came, gushing all over his cock.

You were certain he was going to bite you again, but fear left you as he worked you through your orgasm, groaning and spilling deep inside you.

Once he settled down, he stayed inside you - soft and wet - easing your leg back down to a more comfortable position. His blood red eyes stared into yours.

"Love you underneath me like this," he breathed, touching his forehead to yours. "You were so good for me - so sweet. But I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," you whispered. "It feels so good."

"That's right. I'll take care of you, my beautiful girl." Pressing a tender kiss to your mouth, he reveled in the way your lips slightly trembled.

"Are you still scared of me?" There was really no wrong answer here. If you said yes, it would probably make him hard again. If you said no, then maybe you could somehow trust him again.

"I am, but..." you swallowed hard, wrapping your wrists around his neck, "I like for you to take care of me."

"Good girl," he purred, kissing you again sweetly on the lips, making sure not to have a repeat of last night. No tongue. No blood. Not right now.

"How are you feeling?" He added, after you stared at him silently for a few moments. Miguel eased out of you, back onto his own pillow, lying down beside you.

Unsure of how to answer, you answered his question with one of your own. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"You're not...you don't want to kill me, do you?"

"What?" Miguel's head snapped around to you so fast. "No. Of course not."

Your heart thundered as you gasped at his intense reaction. You were a smart woman, or at least you used to think that. Right now, you should probably be using your high heels as weapons, running down the nearest fire escape while calling the police, and taking out a restraining order against this sexy, brilliant, lunatic vampire sex god.

Instead, you flat out asked him about his murderous intentions, after fucking him - again. Of course he would deny wanting to kill you. Wouldn't any killer say that? Then again, if he was going to kill you, wouldn't you already be dead?

You knew there had to be a catch. No one was this perfect. People this intelligent, powerful and gorgeous always had dark secrets. But vampirism? Really?

Pulling the covers over your naked body, you decided to find out more. "You probably wouldn't admit it if you were going to kill me. I guess that was a stupid question."

"I do not want to kill you," Miguel insisted, rolling onto his side so he could see you better. "I wouldn't do that."

He paused for a moment. "I know you have no reason to believe me, sweetheart, but...I'm not going to hurt you," he softly assured you, hoping you might forgive his transgressions.

"Why did you bite me?" You breathed, your eyes watching him cautiously. "Don't get mad. I-I just don't understand...if you're not a vampire."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Miguel sighed. It was time to give you some real answers.

"I was going to explain it to you in the lab," he confessed. "What I am. It's...complicated. I didn't mean for it to happen this way."

He locked eyes with you. "You have to believe me - I didn't want to hurt you, or scare you." Blowing out another sigh, he dragged his hands down his face. "I know it's hard to believe that now."

"But...you drugged me. Or something...didn't you?"

Ughhh, this was so bad. There was no way the two of you would come back from this. Miguel had no idea why you were even still talking to him and not running out the door.

"You mean, like slip something in your drink? No," he insisted. "I didn't try to hurt you, sweetheart. I didn't want to hurt you."

His insistence made you shrink back again. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad. I was scared, Miguel. I couldn't move my arms or legs. I thought I was going to die."

"Baby," he whispered, squeezing his fists tightly so he wouldn't reach for you again. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I'm so fucking sorry. It's my fangs - they...secrete venom."

You whimpered as a new wave of trepidation washed over you. What the hell?

"It's not poisonous," he quickly explained. "I know that's not very comforting, but it's just a paralytic."

You adorably hid back under the covers, making him want to hold you so badly.

"Don't be mad," your muffled voice repeated. Pulling the blanket down under your eyes, you glanced over at him. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course, anything." He tried to keep his voice and body language as gentle as possible, encouraged by you continuing to talk to him.

"Don't be mad," you continued repeating.

"Baby, I'm not mad," he said gently. "You're the one who should be mad at me."

You quickly nodded. "Okay. Uhm...so you have non-vampire fangs...that secrete non-poisonous venom? That you used to bite me, and paralyze me? And d-drink my blood?"

"Yes," he slowly nodded. "That sums it up pretty well."

"But you're not a vampire?" You finally emerged from the covers.

"No," he chuckled, amused by how cute you were being. "I'm...I have - well, see, there was an accident years ago - a lab accident. Actually, it wasn't an accident - it was intentional. Anyway, this man - there was an experiment, and I ended up with...with 50% spider DNA."

You chomped down on your lip to keep from reacting in a way that would anger or hurt Miguel. Your fuck buddy/boss was...half spider?

"I...don't understand," you softly responded. "You're like...part spider?" Then it hit you. "Wait - are you Spider-Man?" You asked, yanking the blanket down and sitting up.

Rubbing his hand over his chin, Miguel decided that the Spider-Man angle was definitely the more productive one.

In a flash, he was suddenly clad in Spider-Man's famous suit, and...hanging from the ceiling.

"Holy shit, Miguel...you are Spider-Man?" Reaching for your t-shirt and climbing out of bed, you turned your head to watch him crawl around the ceiling. Then he flipped and landed on the floor right in front of you. Yeah, definitely time to pull that t-shirt back over your naked body.

Miguel was a massive, beautiful man. So seeing him in head-to-toe, skin tight...whatever material his dark blue and red suit was made out of - it was a delicious sight.

However...

You whacked him on the arm again, in a 'full circle' moment. "When exactly were you going to tell me this, Miguel? I think it's pretty pertinent to our research!" You fumed, your fear from earlier dissipating. "Not to mention us sleeping together!"

"I know, I know," he held up his hands apologetically, his mask retracting so you could see his crimson gaze. "I was going to tell you. It's why I invited you over last night. I just got...distracted."

Folding your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes. You had so many questions, and suddenly, in the presence of Spider-Man, you felt safe enough to ask them.

Why did he bite you? Why did he drink blood? How, again, was he not a vampire? Why did all this happen while you were fucking? Was this why he wouldn't kiss you?

And finally... "What else are you hiding?"

"Probably enough to make you walk out that door and never come back," he quietly admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you.

"Such as?"

He had talons. That's how he could stick to the ceiling. He used laser webbing to swing around. He killed people.

"But bad people, right? In fights?" You clarified.

Sort of. He admitted to you how he only killed the worst of the worst - murderers, human traffickers - disgusting, vile people. So he could feed. To survive.

"You have to drink blood...to live?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The scientific implications were astounding.

There was more.

"It won't be easy for you to hear, but...you should understand all of what I am, so you can decide...well...if you can even stand to be around me anymore."

He started to tell you about other women.

"Miguel, I obviously know that a man like you has no trouble getting a date," you conceded.

But he told you about his other feedings. How, from time to time, he fed on women, like he had fed on you, last night.

He wanted you to understand - to know him. He wanted all of his ugly secrets laid bare before you. So he explained to you how the women he'd been with - it was always a consensual situation, sexually, but they didn't know he was going to bite them...drink them. He never killed anyone, or even hurt them beyond the brief paralyzation and the wound in their neck. Hardly a ringing endorsement, but those feedings were different than when he actually drained someone.

You wanted to know how often he did this. How many times he'd done it to another woman while fucking you in the office every day.

"None," he swore. "I haven't been with anyone else since weeks before I met you."

Then he explained about the last time he'd fed - the criminal he killed right after he met you.

"I know it's wrong," he admitted, "and I swear to you - I wasn't going to do it to you without you knowing. Or-or at all. But when I accidentally cut your tongue with my fang...I lost myself." Sighing in defeat, he stared down at his lap. "There's no acceptable apology, but I am sorry."

So now you knew. You had no idea what to think. So you asked Miguel for time, and you left.

The weekend passed slowly for the two of you.

You called your aunt and told her the most watered-down possible story about "some guy" you were "seeing" who was "complicated". It didn't help much, since you could never tell her the whole truth, but you were trying to keep in touch with her. And it was nice to hear her voice.

Monday morning, you decided to be your normal self, wear your typical clothes and show up to Miguel's office at the usual time.

You weren't sure what to do exactly. Miguel hurt you - he took something from you that you didn't consent to, and that alone should be a complete dealbreaker as far as a personal relationship was concerned.

But the fact was...you wanted him. In every way.

You wanted to learn more about him - he was part spider - he was Spider-Man! You wanted to be involved in the probable breakthrough research you could accomplish together. You wanted to help him.

It was more than that, though. You craved him. You didn't want that morning in his bed to be the last time he was ever inside you.

And, as ridiculous as you felt admitting it to yourself - you liked when he bit you. It was painful at first. After all, fangs were piercing the skin of your throat - of course it hurt. But the euphoria - the way your body came for him, and floated on a cloud of pure, orgasmic bliss...

The way you felt weak in his arms - the feral look in his burning red eyes. The coating of your blood on his mouth. The way he cradled you like you were something precious. He was wild and dangerous and delicious and you wanted more.

It was true, you had been afraid - even afraid for your life, but that wasn't until you couldn't move. You truly had thought, at that moment, that Miguel had somehow incapacitated you - that he intended to render you helpless. Being out of control of one's body was a frightfully dreadful experience and yes, you were terrified.

But the longer you thought about it, and now that you understood the paralytic in Miguel's fangs, you weren't afraid of it anymore. At least you assumed you wouldn't be - should it happen again.

Besides, you had been out of control of your body for only a few minutes. Apparently, Miguel had been tormented for years.

So you were going to help him. Even if you could never be with him, and even if you never felt him claim your body again, you weren't going to quit your job. This was all too monumental, and Miguel needed you.

next->

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #spiderverse #oscar isaac fic #tw blood

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nesta-is-my-queen · 1 month

Text

A mini fanfic of what I wish Cassian would tell Nesta, post HOFAS bonus chapter.

***

Of all the things that could have happened Nesta did not expect a red-headed alien, with an eight-pointed star on her chest twin to the one stamped across her own heart, to completely change everything she knew about her world—about life itself. That there were other worlds out there, with powerful beings that walked between them, leaving a path of death and destruction in their wake.

She had never expected other planets full of fae, let alone humans, to be hunted and brutalized, to be turned into a source of food and entertainment for intergalactic parasites. It was for the sake of the humans that she handed over the mask. She couldn't bare the thought of them at the mercy of the Asteri, with nothing to defend themselves, so she made the choice to help the female who called herself Bryce, and loaned her what might just tip the scales in their favour.

And then Rhysand and Cassian found out. She didn't care that Rhysand was upset with her, for she could scarcely remember when the high lord was not. It was Cassian's reaction that ate at her. He was furious, even more than Rhysand was.

She remembered Ember's horrified expression when she quipped Rhysand might execute her for her alleged treason. Rhysand wouldn't, of course, if not for Feyre and Cassian. She supposed Ember didn't understand her particular brand of dark humour, and she'd had to promise her that she was safe, that there was no impending execution to be had. The silver lining to it all, however was watching Ember Quinlan, a human woman, hand Rhysand his own ass, something not even Amren had successfully done.

It had been days since she and Cassian spoke. Once again they were fighting. He was angry that she had done the unthinkable and given a trove item to a prisoner. And she was livid that he had taken Rhysand's side in all this. That Rhysand would have preferred her to kill Bryce before handing over the mask.

She had not been this enraged since she had been locked up in the House of Wind and carted off to the Illyrian mountains. She was not some simpering female to be ordered about. She understood the consequences of her actions and decided if the people of Midgard were not safe, then no one was safe. The threat of the Asteri would have eventually reared it's ugly head upon Prythian and enslaved them all. She had seen what one of them could do, in the prison, she couldn't imagine what a host of them might do if they got their hands on Bryce and ripped open a portal to their world.

When Bryce appeared she had no time to do much else but offer the mask, it was a fleeting moment, a wrinkle in time and space and then Bryce was hurtling back to her world, gone before she even had time to blink, the portal winking out with her, leaving her parents as collateral. Those days with Ember had been everything to Nesta. She was the mother she never had. Warm, loving, understanding—so unlike the one who birthed her.

During those days Ember and Randall were the only two she had the heart to interact with, other than Azriel. She and Cassian were not talking and it began to show. Ember was the one who brought it up. Said that it wasn't healthy for them to avoid eachother like this. She had Randall talk to Cassian about it as well. She supposed they were right, how many more days could she lock herself up in her room. How many more nights could she sleep alone?

That was when the knock came. And the house, the traitorous house, opened it's doors to reveal Cassian. She didn't want him to see her crying, to see her weakness. She sniffed back tears and seethed, "go away."

——

Cassian’s hazel eyes locked with Nesta’s, two endless pools of blue grey. Eyes he could get lost in, that could drown him in their depths. Something fractured in him as he watched a lone tear trickle down her cheek, escaping that carefully constructed mask she always wore.

Their bedroom was littered in piles of discarded books. Some half opened with cracked spines, shoved to the side ranging from smut to battle strategy. Steaming mugs of tea and trays laden with truffles and petit fours were scattered across the room. As if the house was desperate to comfort the female standing before him.

“I—I am so sorry.” He said. His voice low, cracking. It was not the only thing that cracked.

“That’s not enough.” She said, in the ghost of a whisper.

“Nesta…” Cassian said, his voice strained, as he lifted a hand towards her. She flinched, backing away.

“Please… just talk to me… tell me what to do…” he pleaded.

“I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of everyone telling me I’m wrong, of having you—the one person—my person—doubt me," she said, swallowing deeply, as if there wasn't enough air in her lungs.

"How could you—?" she breathed, feigning her head to the side, as if trying to hide that thing inside that threatened to burst. Her eyes turned silver, not with flame, but with tears. Tears that would devour him and her. That would devour the world. Cassian would rather have been burned by that unholy fire he'd seen in her eyes. Would rather be turned to ash, a thousand times over, than see those tears falling from them.

As if sensing the onslaught, a soft, cotton napkin materialized in Nesta's hand.

“I know—I know.” He whispered as he watched red splotches spread across her face while she shuddered and heaved. The navy blue drapes unhooked themselves, sliding across the brass railing to cover the bay windows overlooking Velaris, as if to conceal the crying female from any potential onlookers flying by.

“You know what the worst part of it is—I don’t think you know what it is that you did wrong,” she faltered, wiping her tears on the cloth provided to her by the house.

“That you think I did not consider your soldiers, your brothers in arms, who might lose their lives if a war came here. I did consider it, I thought of everything. And all I could think of was about someone like my father, who wouldn’t stand a chance—"

"So I gave them a chance.” She choked out, ringing the cloth in her hands. "I gave them a chance," she repeated.

“And I took one too. But you—you couldn’t take one on me.” She faltered. As each word landed he felt those threads between them slacking. As if their very souls were unravelling.

Something inside of him felt like it was drowning, as if wave after wave were crashing down on that thing in his chest, beaten and battered. Threatening to drag him in the undertow of the storm he was facing.

“Let me make it right. Give me that chance I should have given you.” he pleaded.

“That’s not enough Cassian. It’s not enough and you know it. I refuse to be second when I put you first.” Something flickered in her eyes before quickly sputtering out. He promised himself then and there that he would never let that ember inside of her die out. That he would spend his life dedicated to kindling that fire. That he was a mere shadow that could only exist in the presence of her flame.

“I once told you I have no regrets in my life. Well I was wrong. I regret ever hurting you, ever causing you a moment of pain, ever doubting you. Not putting you first. Because I was afraid. Afraid of disappointing people. But you're the only person who matters. And I will spend whatever time I have left in this life showing you that, if you give me the chance. And if that’s not enough I will keep on trying. As long as you let me."

“Why now? What’s different? What’s changed?” Nesta narrowed her reddened eyes. “Aren’t you sick of being shackled to me?” She squared her shoulders, her eyes turning into two silver slits, giving him that "I will slay my enemies look" that nearly had him falling to his knees.

“The thought of living life without you is unbearable. Without you I am nothing. It's why I was so angry—I was thinking about you. Of losing you. It wasn't just about the last war. It was about what would happen in this one. All I could think of was you throwing your body on top of mine and nearly dying. And—." The words tumbled out of him, erratic and desperate.

"And what a world without you might look like. So I—I lost my mind." He said, his voice thick, eyes pleading.

"Nesta, being your mate is the greatest honour of my life. And I am sorry that I have ever made you feel otherwise."

The space between them waned, and the room somehow became smaller, as if the house was closing the distance between them.

Cassian slipped Nesta’s hand in his and slowly lifted it to that shattered place upon his chest. “You are my everything Nesta Archeron. You are my soul. My heart. My life.”

Clutching her hand to him, he lowered himself, until he was kneeling before her. She could feel his heart pounding, her own beating to the same chaotic tune, as if each pulse and each breath was taken together.

“I love you.” The words spilled out of him. “I have always loved you.”

Somehow he gripped her hand even tighter against his chest and she sunk her nails in. It felt as if she was holding his heart in her palm. Perhaps she truly was. And he just held her hand there, as she marked him. Five crescent shapes imprinted on him, dotted in red, from the base to the apex of his heart, her signature, her claiming.

“And I will always love you.” He breathed, his eyes wet, his face lifted up, meeting hers.

“I love you too.” She whispered, voice hoarse, as she grabbed at his chest, now pulling him towards her until there was no space left between them. Until their lips were crashing against one another, breathing the other in. And those golden threads began to weave themselves back together until they shone, forming an eight pointed star, a guiding light, their compass home.

"You're lucky that I believe in second chances." Nesta said, a slow smile breaking across her face like the sun peaking through the twilight sky. And it was all he needed before he met her smile with one of his own, before he pulled her down to him, until they were flush against eachother.

"I am lucky,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot, mouth hungry, as he traced his lips along the curve of her neck, “the luckiest male alive.”

***

Second chapter is on AO3

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whumpshaped · 5 months

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prev just one more..

tw vampire whumpee, starvation, lady whumpee, noncon drugging aftermath, addiction whump, guilt

Jude gulped down the blood with the intensity and desperation of a starving man, letting out the occasional little whimper at just how good it tasted. Pia let him, encouraged him, told him it felt good, and he just couldn't find it in himself to stop any sooner than it was absolutely necessary.

He snapped out of it only when the praise stopped, the poor woman slumping against his body like she had no more strength to stay on her feet. Jude gently shook her by the shoulders, alarmed beyond measure.

"Pia?" He got a weak grunt in response, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that she was at least still conscious. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll– I'll help you get better, okay? I'm so sorry."

With his strength mostly regained, it wasn't too difficult to scoop her up and gently lay her on the bed. She was still in the midst of her venom-induced euphoria, softly groaning and almost... moaning with each exhale. Jude wished he could've just covered his ears — or better yet, left the cabin entirely.

What had he done? How could he...? Why...? Why couldn't he just be a good vampire? That was all he wanted, to minimise the harm. And now here he was, having almost committed another murder.

She had just been so insistent–

He shook his head, banishing the thought entirely. Pia was a hunter. She hadn't been insistent in earnest, she had been under a spell, a drug that had made her abandon all common sense. And he had taken advantage of it.

Jude took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. At least with a clear head, he would be able to help her recover to the best of his abilities. And once the venom left her system, he could offer himself up to be staked, just as she'd likely wanted to do in the first place. He would right this, if it was the last thing he did.

Tending to an injured human wasn't as difficult as he thought it'd be. Pia was awake and mostly functional within less than a day, and understandably, she was more than confused.

"Where am I...?" She turned her head to look at him, and Jude couldn't help using a bit of charm to make her less afraid. It was only temporary. Just until he could explain the situation. "Who are you?"

"It's... It's a– quite a scary story, but, but please... Please don't be alarmed, okay? I won't harm you in any way–"

"Where am I?" she repeated, more urgently.

"In my home, just outside of town. My name's Jude, and... uh... I, I only kept you here so I could tend to your wounds–"

Pia touched the bandages on her neck, frowning a little. "Fuck. Fuck. The vampire got me, didn't it?"

Jude crawled a bit backwards, still on his knees. "That's... that's another thing," he whispered. "It's– the, the vampire... I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I just– I'm so sorry–"

His incomprehensible, nervous blabbering was enough to break the charm on its own. Pia's eyes widened in recognition, and her hand immediately flew to her belt with the stake still in it. She didn't draw it, though. She seemed a little taken aback to find it in its place. "Okay, what's going on?"

There was a small pause before Jude slowly put his arms up in a show of surrender. He thought he was ready to ask her to finish what she'd come here for, but the words wouldn't come. He hoped his gesture of docility would be enough.

"No, I want answers. Right now." She sat up in bed, still looking a bit unsteady. "Why the fuck do I still have my stake? Why am I in your bed? Why am I alive? You must've realised I was a hunter."

"I have," he said quietly.

"So? What's going on?"

Jude swallowed and tried once again to say the right words. He had to be staked, and if anyone had the right to do it, it was Pia. "I... I'm a monster. I attacked you, I... I did an unthinkable, horrible thing to you, even though you were only trying to do the right thing. I'm so sorry, Pia. But I... I'm r-ready now. I won't struggle."

"Wait, hold on–" She squinted at him, searching his face for something unknown to him. "You're... What's your name again?"

"Jude. Jude Flanagan," he supplied immediately.

That seemed to be the wrong answer, because she groaned in frustration and flopped back onto the bed. "You're not the vampire I'm after. Fucking– goddammit!"

"D-does it matter? We're... we're all just pests, aren't we?"

Pia looked at him, taking in the pitiful sight he must've been, and scoffed. "Well-behaved ones, apparently. You do realise you saved me, right? I'm not gonna stake a vamp who..." She gestured vaguely in his direction. "I mean, look at you."

Jude shifted on his knees, reluctantly lowering his hands. Well-behaved? Coming from a human– a hunter, that was... surprising. He hadn't gotten a kind word in months, and to think he'd get them from her first...

"I'm a danger to your kind," he mumbled.

"And I'm a danger to yours. Yet here I am. Jude, listen..." She sighed. "You spared my life, okay? I'm not taking yours. I just can't. That'd be so fucked up."

The relief that coursed through him at the words felt sinful in itself, and Jude couldn't help getting emotional. "If– if you're sure," he sniffled. "If you're really sure."

Pia laughed softly. "You're... by far the most self-hating, depressed vampire I've ever seen. I didn't even know that was a thing." She even offered him a smile, a sort of mixture of pitying and compassionate. "I don't think I'll regret it. Truly."

Going back to feeding on roadkill was a bigger adjustment than Jude had expected. He couldn't stop thinking about the hunter, that delectable blood flowing into his mouth in abundance, so much more and so much tastier than any hedgehog or rabbit.

He tried to distract himself endlessly, with books, with prayer, with a number of different little hobbies he'd picked up, but it was torture nonetheless. It was hard to even focus on anything when his brain was so insistent on showing him vivid images of Pia and the way she offered her neck to him.

Jude almost jumped out of his skin at the knock at the door. Nobody ever knocked on his door. The shack was supposed to be abandoned; but even if the locals had finally realised that a vampire was living there, why would they ever decide to visit?

He cautiously made his way over there, opening the door just a crack to see who it could be.

"Hey," Pia said with a tired smile. "I won't even try to sugarcoat it... I think the venom got me hooked."

#whump #whump drabble #vampire whumpee #starvation #lady whumpee #noncon drugging aftermath #addiction whump #guilt #jude

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crisiscutie · 7 months

Text

For Those Who Have None Chapter 1

Pairing: Fluffy Sephiroth (Pre-Nibelheim)/Domestic Darling (Reader)

Word Count: 1.3k

Chapter 1 of the Domestic AU mini-fic series. Set Late Crisis Core.

Coming to your apartment has never filled Sephiroth with such dread. As he enters, the scent of smoke invades his senses, unlike the usual lingering lavender scent expected in your home. He quickly realizes that your savory homemade cookies are burnt. You must be troubled as he is. There's no fire in the kitchen, thankfully, so he continues the journey towards his destination.

He has to be honest with himself. That fateful night when you two were entwined... In that moment, he was yearning for you during those long, agonizing days of separation. When you two finally reunited, he lost himself during the sex. And now, this situation is unfolding. You invited him over for dinner and to discuss what happened between you two that night. He becomes so lost in thought; he didn't notice the two plates of lasagna on the table as he walks by, heading towards your room.

You're still in the bathroom when he enters, so he leans against your dresser, his arms crossed as he waits. From the outside, he appeared to be his usual self: quiet and stoic. But beneath his facade, a storm of his greatest fears wages on. His slit eyes fixate on the mesmerizing dance of the weak flames in the fireplace near him. The fire crackles weakly, producing only a soft, melancholic sound echoing in the room. He almost wants to pray that this dreadful meeting was a misunderstanding on his end. But it's a foolish hope.

After what seems like eternity, you finally come out of the bathroom, your own gaze piercing through him.

"Did you enjoy the meal?" You mutter, hoping to get his attention.

"I-I... couldn't eat it. My apologies." He murmurs. You sigh at his response as you nervously rub your arm. You might as well cut to the chase.

"I'm pregnant," you say. You gather the strength to look directly into his eyes. But his gaze remains fixated on the fireplace. Don't be fooled. He heard you. And he wants to assure you, to declare his unwavering support for you and the life growing inside you, but his voice fails him. It's as if time has come to a stop, the world around him freezing in a haze of uncertainty. He never considered fatherhood, let alone be equipped for it. And the idea of raising a child in an environment woven by Shinra, a company built on deceit and darkness, is unthinkable. No doubt that they will raise his child to be a "hero". Their personal killing machine, like him, their father. And there's YOU, his precious darling. He can't lose you. He CAN'T. Not like how he lost his own mother during childbirth. His silver tresses sway gently, and his eyes slowly widen in recognition as they lock onto yours, now that you're standing in front of him. Your delicate hand slid across his warm cheek, providing a soothing touch amidst the storm raging within him. Perhaps there is solace in knowing that, at least for now, he still has you by his side.

"Sephiroth... Sephiroth! Please look at me." Your words shatter the silence, reaching deep into his dark heart as tears well up in his eyes.

"I know this is something neither of us was expecting," you continue, your tone dripping with a motherly reassurance. "But we can get through this. I know we can!" The intensity of your words causes his heart to race, his breath catching in his throat. He wants to believe you. He knows you well. You wouldn't lie to him intentionally. Right? But the doubts still linger, fueled by his painful memories of betrayal and lies. One of the many being his friends, who had once assured him, deserted him when he needed them the most. And there was his mother. He was once told she was alive and well, only to discover later that she had passed away after his birth. How can he be certain of your declaration?

All he wants is certainty. No more lies to manipulate him, to soothe him or to spare his feelings. He needs the undeniable truth to rescue him from sinking in this dark sea of illusions.

"Let's... Leave SOLDIER together. We can start a new life together somewhere. Anywhere but here!" You say. He senses your genuine resolve, but is it enough? Where would you two even go? His visage is plastered over every SOLDIER poster and Shinra propaganda out there. He would be recognized instantly.

"I suppose we can make leave after the Nibelheim mission," he mutters under his breath, already mentally preparing for the journey ahead. You two will probably face unsavory individuals in Nibelheim. And despite the low odds of your proposal, he will still go with you, no matter what. Because when others came and go, you stayed with him. So, he will follow you to the ends of the world, unwilling to let even the slightest chance of his last connection slip away. Your fingers instinctively entwine with his gloved hand as you shake your head.

"No longer do we belong to Shinra, my love," you whisper, your voice filling with hope. "We don't have to see that mission through. The sooner we leave, the better."

"There is nowhere we can go. Nowhere to belong..." he says. Uncertainty flickers across his face.

"I promise you, I'll find out. We'll find a place where we can be free, where our love, and our family, can flourish without fear! The price of freedom may be steep... but it's a cost we can endure!" You say. As the meaning behind your words sinks in, Sephiroth's calm facade shatters. He tightly embraces your delicate frame, pressing it against his towering, sinewy build. Tears cascade down his cheeks as he buries his face in your neck. How much longer must you TWO endure this anguish? Why must you suffer more just to free yourselves in this dark world?"

You coo softly into his ear, your smooth voice intertwining with the soothing touch of your fingers going through his silky sliver hair. The Nibelheim Mission is just days away, and you're unsure about your own plan, but you know that staying in your current situation is the worst thing to do for your unborn child, and for Sephiroth. You must act now. He lifts his head from the nape of your neck, now resting it on your shoulder. His gaze shifts towards the crackling fireplace behind you, where the once weak embers now blaze with a newfound strength.

"Lay down with me," you whisper softly. He obeys without a word, closing his weary eyes as you begin to undress him.

First, you remove his scratched shoulder pauldrons, freeing him from their burden. Next, you gently take off his trench coat, the raspy worn fabric resonating in your ears as you unzip it. You then carefully remove his leather gloves. You can't help but briefly massage his callused hands as you observe the fine muscles of them, and the marks of many battles on the skin.

Lastly, you carefully undo his chest straps, your fingertips gliding over the barely visible red marks etched onto the skin. The straps must have been tighter than he realized, no doubt a result of the stress he was under. His exhaustion becomes apparent to you as you look at him once more. It's etched into the dark bags underneath his eyes and his complexion, beginning to look patchy. After you finish preparing him for bed, you give him a pat on the head, another soothing touch that weakens the storm within him.

You then guide him towards your bed, sinking into the soft satin sheets as you both recline. His strong arms wrap around you again, as he unleashes his sobs.

Closing your eyes, you make a silent vow, promising to always be the refuge Sephiroth needs as you cradle his head. In these dark times, he will rely on you more than ever. But you're ready. You will become his guiding hope. Tomorrow shall mark the start of your newly intertwined destinies.

Prelude smut fic for those interested here.

The purpose of this mini fic series is for me to challenge myself by expanding on an existing plot line and maintaining consistency throughout. If I am satisfied with the results of this, I'll consider creating fic series for the Dissidia and HoS AUs!

I was quite picky when writing and polishing this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Thanks @sephys-paradise for this series title suggestion~!

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