#and you will dread the thought of one turning its gaze down to you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaira-diaries · 3 months ago

Text

Older:

⚠️: violence || death - gun usage || fluff || wound cleaning- mentions of blood

pair: Fem!reader x In-ho

wc: 5k

a/n: this is fluffyy, no smut. More of a "who did this to you" kinda trope if you catch my drift..

summary: You're injured from a rogue player and the frontman fixes you up while also revealing his feelings.

->Masterlist <-

_______________

The elevator doors slid shut with a low hum, isolating you in a confined silence broken only by the rhythmic throb of pain radiating from your upper thigh. You leaned heavily against the cold metal wall, gritting your teeth as you pressed a trembling hand against the angry, crimson wound. Blood seeped through your fingers, staining the black fabric of your suit with a wet heat that clung to your skin. You hissed under your breath, a string of curses escaping as the memory of the fight replayed in your mind.

Player 202.

The name alone sent a fresh wave of frustration through you. He'd escaped after ruthlessly taking down one of your men, disarming him with precision and fleeing into the labyrinth of the facility. The moment the alarm sounded, you sent out a brigade to track him, their boots pounding the metal corridors like a drumbeat of impending justice. Yet it wasn't them who found him first.

It was you.

The confrontation was savage and immediate. He had nothing left to lose, and his desperation made him dangerous. Your pistol clattered to the ground during the struggle, the sound of its impact lost in the chaos. The fight turned brutal, the two of you grappling for control of his weapon. The flash of the muzzle came before the pain—a white-hot, searing agony that ripped through your thigh and left you gasping.

Your troop arrived seconds later, fanning out like a tide of pink uniforms and barked orders before sending him to his grave. They pulled you back, their hands firm and voices taut with urgency.

You left them to handle the scene—the body, the blood, the weapon—but not before stuffing a bandage into the ragged hole torn into your flesh. It was a temporary solution, one that barely stemmed the bleeding and left you limping through the sterile halls, your body screaming with every step.

Now, you stood in the elevator, the walls pressing in like a cage. The report clutched in your hand felt heavy, not just with the weight of its contents but with the implications. You stared at it, the words blurring as your mind raced ahead to the confrontation awaiting you.

The thought of seeing him—In-ho—your boss—sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting rush of anticipation and dread. You'd worked under him for a year now, long enough to decipher the cracks beneath his cold, enigmatic exterior. He didn't speak much, but you noticed the subtle signs: the way his hand would linger just a second too long on yours, the rare moments his unmasked gaze would meet yours in the low light of late nights spent planning the future of the games.

He was older, yes—marked by the faint lines etched near his eyes. But to you, that wasn't a drawback; it was a draw. The men your age always seemed unsure, fumbling through life with a bravado that couldn't mask their inexperience. They didn't have the weight of the world in their gaze, the scars of hard-earned insight that you saw in him.

In-ho knew who he was, and that confidence was intoxicating. It wasn't just the authority he wielded, though that certainly added to his allure—it was the way he made you feel seen, like he understood you in a way no one else did. He could cut through your defenses with a single look, his intensity both unnerving and thrilling. With In-ho, there were no games, no shallow conversations. Every interaction felt deliberate, meaningful. It was a stark contrast to the fleeting, empty flattery you'd grown accustomed to from others in the facility. In-ho didn't waste time on empty words—when he spoke, it mattered.

But his temper was something else entirely—a storm, sharp and explosive, that left you reeling in its wake. It terrified you, the sheer force of his rage when things went wrong. Yet somehow, you craved it. It drove you to work harder, to strategize smarter, to ensure that every piece of the game moved flawlessly.

Until now.

Now, the flow was broken, disrupted by a single player who had dared to defy the system. And you were the one left to account for it.

The elevator lurched to a stop, a soft chime signaling your arrival. You straightened as much as your injured leg would allow, smoothing the front of your bloodied suit with trembling fingers. Your heart thudded against your ribs, a drumbeat of adrenaline and apprehension. As the doors slid open, revealing the long corridor that led to his office, you took a steadying breath.

The door to his office stood ajar, a soft glow spilling into the corridor. You hesitated for a moment, drawing a shallow breath to steady yourself. The sharp ache in your thigh pulsed in time with your racing heart. Leaning heavily against the frame, you rapped your knuckles lightly on the wood.

He glanced up from his drink, his mask nowhere in sight. The bare planes of his face caught the light, casting sharp shadows along the elegant curve of his jaw. His gaze locked onto yours, steady and piercing, sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves.

"Just dropping this off," you said, lifting the report in a trembling hand. But your voice betrayed you, cracking under the weight of the pain you'd worked so hard to suppress. Quickly, you schooled your features into a mask of indifference, willing the flicker of agony on your face to vanish.

He didn't move at first, only watching you with a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier. Then, slowly, he set his glass down on the desk and pushed himself to his feet. The light overhead carved out every detail of his features, drawing your attention to the sharp lines and the faint tension in his posture.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low but laced with an edge of something you couldn't quite place. His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the twitch in your expression before you could hide it.

"Nothing," you replied quickly, too quickly. "Just tired."

He hummed softly, a noncommittal sound that sent a ripple of unease through you. His gaze swept over you in one smooth motion, lingering too long on the torn fabric at your thigh. The faint sheen of blood there hadn't gone unnoticed.

You bit your lip, the faint taste of copper grounding you. He knew. You'd been made.

With deliberate steps, he closed the space between you, his presence both imposing and oddly comforting. His fingers brushed yours as he took the report from your hand, but he didn't step back. Instead, his other hand came up, warm and steady, wrapping gently around your wrist.

"What happened?" he asked, softer this time, but the command in his tone was unmistakable.

You flinched, the mask you'd so carefully constructed threatening to shatter. "I told you, it's nothing."

His thumb ghosted over your pulse, and his eyes, normally sharp and unyielding, held a flicker of something softer now. Concern, perhaps, though he kept it guarded.

"You're bleeding." His gaze dipped back to the torn slit at your thigh, voice tightening just enough to betray his frustration—or was it worry? "That doesn't look like 'nothing.'"

The silence stretched between you, taut as a wire. You looked away, but he didn't release you. Instead, his grip remained tight.

"Let me see," he said at last, his voice dropping lower, almost a plea.

You swallowed hard, torn between defiance and the strange pull of his concern.

The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let your guard slip. Just a moment.

You sighed, the sound heavy with defeat, and allowed him to take control. His hand slid to your arm, carefully, as he guided you toward the bed. Each step sent a sharp jolt of pain radiating from your thigh, and you couldn't stop the grimace that twisted your face. When you finally reached the bed, you lowered yourself onto it with a hiss, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight.

He knelt before you without hesitation, the action fluid and purposeful. His gaze flickered up to meet yours for a fleeting moment, a silent reassurance passing between you before it dropped to the torn fabric of your suit.

With unsteady fingers, you widened the hole in the fabric, revealing the angry, blood-slicked wound beneath. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he clenched his teeth, but his eyes softened in contrast, shadowed with an emotion you weren't sure how to name.

"Who did this?" he asked, his voice low but tense, each word laced with barely restrained anger.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as the heat of his gaze on your injury made you acutely aware of your vulnerability.

"It's all in the report," you said, lifting your chin as if to distance yourself from the pain. "But long story short, a player escaped, and I happened to be the first to find him."

His brow furrowed at your words, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded slowly, his fingers ghosting just above the torn flesh as though debating whether to touch it. He didn't, instead leaning in closer to inspect the wound.

You watched him work, his focus sharp and unwavering, yet there was a tension in the way he moved—an almost imperceptible hesitation as if the sight of you like this unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

"Stay here," he said at last, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before you could respond, he rose smoothly to his feet and strode out of the room. For a moment, the space felt colder in his absence, the tension in the air lingering like an aftershock.

You shifted slightly, the pain in your thigh flaring as you tried to settle into a more comfortable position. The scent of blood and the faint trace of his cologne lingered in the room, mixing into something oddly grounding. As you waited, the steady thrum of your heartbeat filled the silence, your mind replaying the look in his eyes—the clash of anger and concern.

He returned a few minutes later, the soft grating of the floor pulling your attention. In his hand was a first aid kit, its red cross glaring against the white metal. He placed it on the bed beside you with practiced precision, his movements deliberate and calm. You watched him intently, your nerves prickling as a sense of inevitability settled over you. You weren't one to jump at the chance to see a doctor—or anyone who'd come near a wound with tools—but right now, you had no choice. The jagged piece of metal lodged in your thigh needed to come out.

You swallowed hard, the audible gulp betraying your unease. His head snapped toward you, sharp and assessing, and for a moment, you felt entirely too exposed under his gaze.

"It has to come out," he said, his voice hard but not unkind. "One way or another."

You nodded, forcing a deep breath into your lungs to steady yourself.

"I'll need a better view of your leg," he added, his words carrying an unspoken implication that made your stomach twist.

Your fingers found the zipper of your suit, moving with determined efficiency despite the tremor in your hands. The cool slide of metal teeth was almost deafening in the quiet room. You managed to unzip it down to your hips, but the moment you tried to shimmy the fabric lower, the pain exploded, sharp and blinding. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped your lips as you froze, unable to continue.

Without a word, he stepped closer, his presence both grounding and intimidating. His hands moved to the crumpled fabric at your hips, firm but aware as they took over the task.

"Lay back," he instructed, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

You hesitated, your body stiff with the anticipation of pain, but you obeyed, easing yourself down onto the mattress. The ceiling blurred slightly as you stared up at it, trying to focus on anything but the throbbing ache in your leg.

"Lift your hips for me," he said softly, his tone low and coaxing.

The words carried a strange intimacy, making your pulse spike. You hesitated again, the sharp edge of fear creeping into your expression, and his gaze softened in response.

"I'll be quick," he assured you, his voice barely above a murmur.

"Trust me."

Something in his tone—a rare note of sincerity—eased the tension in your chest, just enough for you to comply. You braced yourself, gripping the edge of the mattress as you shifted your hips upward. His hands moved with quiet efficiency, sliding the fabric down your legs with as little movement as possible. Even so, the motion sent a fresh wave of pain rippling through you, and you clenched your teeth to keep from crying out.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice steady and grounding as he worked.

Finally, the suit was out of the way, leaving your leg exposed. He glanced down at the wound, his jaw tightening again as he assessed the damage. You caught the flicker of something behind his expression—frustration, concern, perhaps even guilt—but he quickly masked it.

He reached for the glass of liquor on the desk, the liquid catching the light as he extended it toward you. His movements were deliberate, slow, as though offering you a choice—but you didn't hesitate. You snatched the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing his briefly, though neither of you acknowledged it.

The cool weight of the glass felt solid in your grasp, and you brought it to your lips without a second thought. The liquor burned as it slid down your throat, sharp and unforgiving, a brief distraction from the pain radiating from your thigh. A few stray drops escaped, trickling down your chin, leaving a warm, tingling trail before dripping onto your chest.

The sight sent a flicker of awareness through you, heat threatening to rise to your cheeks, but you shoved it down, focusing instead on the sting of the alcohol and the sharp, metallic scent of blood that still hung in the air.

In-ho's gaze flickered, lingering for a split second longer than it should have. The contrast between the harsh situation and the intimate glimpse of black lace pulled at something deep within him, but he quickly masked the reaction, his jaw tightening as he tore his eyes away.

You, oblivious, shifted slightly, the motion sending another ripple of agony through you. The sound of your sharp intake of breath jolted him back into focus. He turned, reaching for the first aid kit, and the soft clink of metal brought your attention to the pliers he now held.

The tool looked unforgiving, its edges gleaming under the harsh light. A chill swept over you as he knelt by your side again, his expression grim and unreadable.

He placed the pliers against your thigh, the cold metal brushing the torn flesh. The sensation sent a wave of panic through you, and before you could think, your hand shot out, gripping his wrist tightly.

"In-ho—" you choked, the fear in your voice raw and unguarded.

He froze, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, the room felt unbearably still, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

His eyes softened, the sharpness in them giving way to something quieter, something almost tender. But there was a flicker of conflict there too, a shadow he didn't allow to linger long.

"I'll make it quick," he said, his voice low, steady. The words were deliberate, spoken like a promise meant only for you.

You didn't respond right away, searching his face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Instead, you found only calm resolve, a quiet assurance that somehow steadied you despite the circumstances.

Finally, your grip loosened, though your fingers trembled as you released his wrist. You closed your eyes, sucking in a shaky breath. "Okay," you whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

"Good," he murmured, almost to himself. His hand returned to your thigh, steadying it as he repositioned the pliers.

You didn't see the fleeting glance he cast at you again, the lace and soft curves drawing his attention one last time before he forced himself to focus. He tightened his grip on the pliers, his jaw hardening with determination.

"Just hold on," he said quietly, the words laced with both command and care, and you braced yourself for the pain to come.

The cold metal of the pliers pierced your torn flesh, sending a blinding wave of pain radiating through your body. Your hand flew to your mouth, pressing hard against your lips to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. The pressure did little to mask the muffled whimper that slipped through, but In-ho didn't flinch. His focus was absolute, his movements precise and unyielding as he worked.

Each subtle shift of the pliers sent another spike of agony through your leg, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You bit down on your knuckle, your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, trying to breathe through the searing pain.

He remained silent, his jaw set in steely determination as he dug deeper. The pliers twisted slightly, the sharp edges brushing against nerves that made your leg jerk involuntarily. His free hand shot out to steady your thigh, his touch firm but grounding.

"Almost there," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, though it was clear he was speaking more to himself than to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he paused. The small metallic clink of the bullet being gripped filled the silence. With a quick, decisive motion, he yanked it free.

You exhaled sharply, the release of tension almost dizzying as the pain shifted from sharp to dull. The air felt heavier now, thick with the metallic tang of blood. He set the pliers and bullet down on a clean napkin, the small hunk of metal glinting under the light like a grim trophy.

For a brief moment, you thought it was over—until your eyes caught the crimson stain blooming across the sheets beneath you. The deep red seeped outward, a stark contrast against the pale fabric, forming a small but growing pool.

Your stomach twisted at the sight, a new wave of discomfort settling over you. Your brows furrowed as you forced yourself to sit up slightly, wincing at the motion.

"In-ho," you said, your voice uneven as you gestured weakly toward the mess. "Your bed…"

He glanced at the bloodstained sheets, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached for the first aid kit again, his movements efficient as he grabbed a fresh bandage and antiseptic.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, not sparing the sheets another glance. His focus was back on you, his hands steady as he worked to clean the wound.

"It does matter," you mumbled, guilt creeping into your voice despite your exhaustion.

"It doesn't," he insisted, his tone firm, almost scolding, but his hands remained gentle. "You're what matters."

You lay back, forcing yourself to relax as he continued tending to your wound. His movements were practiced and meticulous, each gesture deliberate and careful.

The antiseptic stung at first, a sharp, biting sensation that made your leg twitch, but his steady hands didn't falter.

"Luckily, stitches aren't needed," he said, his voice calm and reassuring as he dabbed at the cleaned wound. "It should heal on its own, as long as you don't push yourself."

His tone carried an undertone of warning, though it was gentler than you expected. You nodded faintly, the tension in your body beginning to ebb.

With precise care, he reached for a roll of bandages.

The soft fabric unraveled with a faint rustle, and he began wrapping it around your thigh. His fingers brushed against your skin as he worked, warm and firm, grounding you with each pass. The pressure from the bandage was snug but not overbearing, and the dull ache that lingered in your leg already seemed more tolerable.

"There," he murmured, tying off the bandage neatly. "That should hold. Keep it clean, and you'll be fine."

You exhaled a shaky breath, relieved the worst was over. But just as you thought he was finished, he leaned closer, his head dipping toward your thigh.

Before you could process what was happening, you felt the faintest press of his lips against the bandaged wound. It was featherlight, a fleeting touch that sent a ripple of warmth cascading through your chest.

Your breath hitched, the unexpected gesture leaving you momentarily frozen. His kiss wasn't lingering or ostentatious—it was soft, almost reverent, and so brief that you wondered if you'd imagined it.

He straightened, his expression unreadable as he began gathering the used supplies and setting them aside. But you couldn't tear your eyes away from him, your heart fluttering erratically in your chest.

"In-ho…" you whispered, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

With that, he slipped an arm beneath your legs and another around your back. The motion was effortless as he scooped you into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

His grip was steady, his movements smooth as he carried you across the room to a clean bed. The scent of fresh linen greeted you as he lowered you carefully onto the mattress, his hands lingering for a moment as he adjusted your position to ensure you were comfortable.

You winced slightly as your leg shifted, but the ache was manageable now, dulled by the care he'd already given. He pulled the blanket up over you, tucking it around your shoulders with a gentleness that felt almost out of place coming from him.

His expression softened as his gaze lingered on you, a quiet protectiveness in his eyes that made your heart stutter. "Rest. You'll feel better after some sleep."

You nodded, your body sinking into the soft mattress as the tension slowly began to leave your frame. "Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible.

He didn't respond right away, but his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, the first you'd seen from him in a long time. "Get some sleep," he repeated, his voice low and steady.

As he turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him, your heart still fluttering from the weight of his touch and the warmth of his unexpected tenderness.

____________________

You began to stir, your senses coming alive one by one. The first was touch—your fingertips gliding across the cool, luxurious texture of green silk sheets. The sensation was foreign, unfamiliar, but oddly comforting, like a gentle reminder that you were somewhere safe.

Your eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the soft glow of ambient light filtering through the room. The memory of pain made you tense, expecting the sharp, blinding agony to pulse through your thigh the moment you moved. But instead, there was only a dull ache, a faint throb that felt almost distant now.

Curiosity mingled with relief, and you slowly shifted, your muscles stretching cautiously as you tested the boundaries of discomfort. The bandage wrapped snugly around your thigh was a subtle reminder of the night before, but it no longer felt like an unbearable weight.

With renewed confidence, you threw the blankets off your body, the fabric sliding off your skin in a cascade of green silk. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you planted your feet firmly on the floor.

Your red-painted toenails caught your attention for a moment, their vibrant hue a stark contrast against the polished gray surface below. The image was oddly grounding, a small burst of color in the midst of an otherwise muted room.

The coolness of the floor met your bare skin, sending a gentle shiver up your spine. You braced yourself, hands gripping the edge of the mattress as you prepared to stand, the memory of In-ho's care lingering in the back of your mind.

Pushing yourself to stand, you moved cautiously, every muscle in your body on high alert. The moment your weight settled on your legs, you held your breath, bracing for the sharp sting of pain that never came. Instead, the ache stayed dull, manageable, like a whisper of the injury rather than a shout.

Encouraged, you dared to take a step, your right leg moving first. It held steady, your balance wobbling only slightly. Then came your left. You hesitated for a moment before shifting forward, the bandage brushing against your skin as you tested the limits of your body.

The pain remained muted, like a dull ember rather than the roaring fire you expected. Slowly, you reached for the doorframe, the wood cool and solid beneath your fingertips, a reassuring anchor as you inched forward.

But then, as you took another step with your left leg, the sensation shifted. A sharp, searing pain shot through your thigh, fiery and unrelenting, as though the wound had been ripped open anew.

You barely had time to register it before the scream tore from your throat, raw and uncontrollable. The sound echoed in the quiet room, bouncing off the walls like a cry for mercy. Your legs buckled beneath you, the strength drained in an instant, and you clutched desperately at the doorframe to keep from collapsing entirely.

The scream was still leaving your lips when it happened—strong hands gripped your waist, steady and unyielding, as though they had always been there, waiting. It was almost as if In-ho had materialized from thin air, his presence sudden and grounding, like an anchor amidst your spiral of pain.

"Easy," he murmured, his deep voice low but firm, the single word laced with both command and concern. His arms wrapped around you with practiced ease, pulling you firmly against his chest. You felt the solid warmth of him through the fabric of his suit, his breath steady against the top of your head as if he was willing you to calm down with the rhythm of his own body.

Your hands instinctively clung to him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as though letting go would mean collapsing entirely. The searing pain in your thigh was sharp, unrelenting, but his hold steadied you, his grip a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.

"You should have called for me," he said, his tone soft but with a trace of reproach. His words hung heavy in the air, not an accusation but a reminder of your limits, one you had clearly tested too soon.

His hands shifted, one sliding from your waist to brace your back, the other moving down to steady your injured leg. The tenderness in his movements was almost startling, a stark contrast to the cool authority he usually commanded. "I've got you," he said, his voice gentler now, an unspoken promise threaded through the words.

He made his way to the couch, lowering you onto it with care. The cushions were soft, and the cool leather soothed your overheated skin. He crouched in front of you, his hands never leaving your sides until he was certain you were settled.

"In-ho, I'm fine," you murmured, watching as he began to peel back the layers of gauze.

His brow furrowed as he leaned closer, unraveling the dressing and inspecting the wound. A faint sigh of relief escaped him when he found the area intact, the underlying bandage only slightly stained with blood. "You're lucky," he said, his tone softening. "You didn't tear it open."

You exhaled shakily, your shoulders slumping in relief.

A shaky breath escaped your lips. "I told you I'd be fine," you murmured, trying to keep your tone light, though the intensity of his gaze made it nearly impossible to focus.

He didn't respond immediately; his eyes locked on the wound as he replaced the bandage with a fresh one. "You need to stop pushing yourself," he said finally, his voice low, almost a growl.

Swallowing hard as his hands lay over your wound, he asked, "What happened to Player 202?"

"Dead," you said simply. "He was a liability. And liabilities don't survive here."

He nodded, with a smirk. You'd learned that from him.

He finished re-wrapping the bandage and sat back on his heels. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you longer than they should have, as if searching for something unspoken.

"The games can't afford mistakes like this," he said finally, his tone measured. "You know that."

You flinched, the weight of his words hitting harder than you expected. "I know," you whispered. "It won't happen again."

You nodded faintly, unsure of what else to say. The games had always demanded sacrifices, but hearing it put so plainly was a reminder of the harsh reality you both lived in.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, until he leaned forward, his arms braced on either side of you as his face hovered closer. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you couldn't look away, caught in the intensity of his gaze. His hand rose, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. The gesture was small, almost insignificant, but the way his touch lingered sent warmth rushing through you.

"You're too reckless," he said quietly, his voice low and rough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he leaned in further, his forehead briefly brushing yours, his breath warm against your lips. The proximity made your heart race, anticipation thrumming in your chest like a drumbeat.

"I mean it," he murmured, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"You drive me insane."

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours. The kiss started soft, almost tentative as if testing the waters. But when you didn't pull away—when your hands gripped the front of his jacket, pulling him closer—it deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a fervent intensity that left you breathless.

The world seemed to fall away, the tension, the pain, the weight of the games fading into the background as his hands slid to your waist, holding you as if grounding himself. His touch was firm and steady, but his lips were anything but—they explored yours with a mix of hunger and restraint, every movement figured yet desperate.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss further, and his hand moved to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture so gentle it made your chest tighten.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was as uneven as yours, his forehead resting against yours. "You're unimaginable," he muttered, though there was no anger in his tone—only something that felt dangerously close to fondness.

You smiled faintly, your fingers still gripping his jacket. "And yet, you're still here."

A rare chuckle escaped him, low and brief, as he leaned back just enough to meet your eyes. "Don't make me regret it," he said, though the faint quirk of his lips softened the words.

He stood, offering you his hand. "Come on. You need to keep your mind off things."

You raised a brow, curious but compliant as you took his hand, letting him help you to your feet.

Moments later, you were seated beside him in front of a large screen, the next round of games unfolding before you. The air still felt charged from the kiss, but the distraction of the games offered a reprieve.

"The Dalgona game," you murmured, leaning back against the cushions. Your thigh throbbed faintly, but the pain was muted now, dulled by his bandaging.

In-ho nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. "A classic," he said, his tone calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes as he watched the players being handed their candy disks and metal tools. "It's simple, but it separates the clever from the careless."

You watched as the players examined their candy pieces, each etched with a different shape—a star, a circle, a triangle, and, for the unlucky ones, an umbrella. The camera zoomed in on their faces, capturing the dawning realization and fear as they pieced together the task ahead of them.

One player hesitated, their hands trembling as they picked up the needle. "How many do you think will make it?" you asked softly, your gaze flicking to In-ho.

His expression didn't change, but his fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. "Less than half," he said. "The umbrella alone will take out most of them."

You nodded, your stomach knotting as a player snapped their disk in half, the sound sharp and final. The guards wasted no time—one raised their weapon, and the shot echoed through the room. You flinched, but In-ho didn't move, his face unreadable.

"It's brutal," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It has to be," he replied. "The games don't reward weakness."

You looked over at him with a smirk, "I know," earning one from him in return.

For a while, the two of you watched in silence. The tension in the game mirrored the tension in the room, each crack of the candy or echo of a gunshot adding weight to the air between you.

At one point, In-ho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied the screen. His focus was absolute, but you couldn't help noticing the way his profile caught the light—the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes.

"They're desperate," he said, nodding toward a player licking the back of their candy. "But smart. That one might make it."

You followed his gaze, watching as the player's determination paid off, the fragile candy shape finally sliding free. A rare smile ghosted across In-ho's lips.

"You like watching them figure it out," you said, a hint of curiosity in your tone.

"It's not just about survival," he said, leaning back again. "It's about adaptation. Those who can think under pressure, who can find unconventional solutions—they're the ones who deserve to win."

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the game seemed to fade into the background. You turned your gaze to him, studying the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hand rested loosely on the armrest beside you.

"In-ho," you started, your voice soft.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were gentler now, the sharpness tempered by something quieter. "What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against the edge of your bandaged thigh. "Thank you," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze steady on yours. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. "You don't need to thank me," he said quietly. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

The space between you seemed to shrink, the air charged with unspoken words. He leaned closer, his movements slow, deliberate and his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, careful, and unhurried, a stark contrast to the brutality unfolding on the screen in front of you as the sounds of pleading and gunfire faded into nothing.

#hwang in ho #the frontman #front man #hwang in ho x reader #in ho squid game #front man x reader #the front man x reader #fan fiction #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic

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kleptokure · 2 months ago

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Deceit's Favorite 🃏

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader

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This is bad, you thought to yourself. The outcome of your arrival in Beast-Yeast is far worse than you would have ever thought.

Yes, you expected to encounter the Beast with Deceit engraved into their essence, but within the hour you stepped foot on the foreign terrain? You were not at all prepared to reunite with your old friend face to face all of a sudden.

Being one of the first cookies to be given a Soul Jam, you assumed going to Beast-Yeast would not be a challenge for you, yet the current circumstances proves you incorrect. Now you wish you stayed in Crispia, where the air is not so bitter.

As much as you would love to rescue Pure Vanilla from his absolute contrary personified, there is an obstacle surrounding your shelter.

You are well aware that Gingerbrave and the gang are accompanying Pure Vanilla Cookie, and a battle of them versus one mere cookie seems like an easy fight, but Shadow Milk is a special cookie, which is known to most who are aware of his being. The beast knows the trauma his main opponent withholds, and would not hesitate to use it against him.

Speaking of Shadow Milk Cookie, you’re currently pondering over how he located you in the first place. Your expectations were for his full focus to be on his "Soul Jam thief," but it appears your dough, and crumbs, is much more important in his reality.

Surprisingly, his encounter with you was far from destructive. In all honesty, you admit it was leaning closer to bittersweet.

Shadow Milk Cookie had a lot to say, of course. His words laced with jeers, flirts, yet betrayal at the same time. Though, he did say something along the lines of forgiving you for not standing by his side eons ago.

It comes as hard to remember the exact words, as your mind is fuzzy with all this information. You might be concentrated on the romantic parts of his speech more than you should be.

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt stop, hearing knocks on the front door to your hidden hideout. It must not be so hidden if the one cookie you scurry from has managed to locate you. Shadow Milk seemingly possesses eyes all over the place, though you could've predicted that part.

There is no point dragging out the eventual conversation awaiting you pair. With that said, you pick yourself up and walk towards the door.

Having opened the door with a rigid gaze, you find there to be no cookie to return your stare.

Great, another trick. You should've guessed that. Now what, is he going to be inside your house when you turn around? Candlelight dinner with an empty seat calling your name?

Before you get the chance to close the opening, a piece of paper finds its way slapped onto the middle of your face.

With dread, you tear the sheet off and hold it before your eyes, reading the text it has engraved into itself.

It's... an invitation? To a show, to be exact. The reading says,

"YOU, yes, YOU are invited to a one of a kind show!

Don't be late, as I’d be very upset if you were.

From your dearest jester. XoXo <3"

You feel a warmth in your dough from the heart included at the bottom of the sheet, almost tearing the paper just to rid of a feeling caused by him of all cookiekind. The weather here has to be the cause of your sickly feelings.

In any other situation, you would refuse without a second thought (that's what you tell yourself). But, Pure Vanilla is walking a path of danger, and you'll do what you can to change that for your friend.

Though, the candlelight dinner you expected to occur now comes as more preferable.

Looking further down, you notice the time the show host requests you arrive is a few five minutes away. He was kind enough to give you a step by step map to the location.

The short notice matters not, as you have nothing better to do. Spending all this time huddled up in a random shack is not what one would call time well spent.

Gathering yourself up, you take you and your crumbs out into the eerie outside of Beast-Yeast. With the map given, you follow the path, each step closer to meeting the volatile cookie of deceit.

It is nothing less of a short trip, arriving at an isolated place hidden by the trees, the wind brushing by to rustle the decaying leaves. There is no more than 10 seats placed in an organized manner in front of a puppet stage, even though you’re sure to be the sole cookie watching his upcoming act. Alongside the puppets he controls, of course.

Finished with taking in the environment, you walk towards your seat before a familiar voice stops you in your tracks.

"Well, well, well. Lookie who finally decided to show up!"

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. If you had fallen to his side long ago, you would say the sight of him takes your breath away. But that would be silly to even think about at the moment.

"...Shadow Milk Cookie."

"I know, I know, saying it never gets boring, amirite?" He chuckles, floating in his casual manner to give a little twirl.

"The STAR of the show has arrived! Oh, but am I talking about you, orrrr am I talking 'bout me?" Shadow Milk sends a small wink your way. It seems like now that reunions have passed, getting comfortable with you comes natural to him.

"We need to talk—"

"Now, now, take a seat. The crowd is trembling with excitement!" A selected puppet appears next to you, hand pushing you to your spot. A front seat right in the middle. Aren't you just the luckiest?

Even though more crucial topics could arise, Shadow Milk Cookie is determined to get his way, and you can do nothing but comply.

You should raise your weapon, to save cookies from his future plans. But that all comes to a stutter whenever you see his face; his very pretty face. Your gawking gets cut short when a spotlight is directed on the act before you.

"Once upon a time, there were two cookies. Two cookies who were veeeeery in love, might I add!" He stupidly makes the two puppets kiss, creating a few mwas for extra effect. The brainwashed cookies around all "aww."

If it were a cliche romance story between two unknown cookies, you would not have been bothered. But shown by the cutouts he made quite well, the two cookies in specifics were no other than you and Shadow Milk. Must he make this insufferable to sit through by bringing up feelings from the past?

"They were busy cookies, too. Like, all of the gnats around depended on them!" You dislike the use of the word gnats, your iced eyebrow furrowing.

"But oh dear! One day, a certain cookie got tired of the puny creatures. Never appreciative of what was given..." The cutout of Shadow Milk Cookie is seen with angry eyebrows. It's almost laughable.

"Soooo, Shadow Milk Cookie stopped helping out the doughbrains. All of those ungrateful cookies deserved to be crumbled instead!" His voice takes on a more passionate tone, cheers of agreement erupting from the tiny, feigned crowd.

"Shadow Milk Cookie tried to reveal to his beloved partner the deception in reality, but guess what?" You already anticipate his next words.

Your hands clench into fists; the memories of the exact scene he's portraying pouring through your head. Shadow Milk is not the lone cookie whose face comes to mind. The other beasts, whom you were close with, make an appearance too. Their faces of shock at your disloyalty still upset you to this day.

"HEY! Eyes up here, silly! I’m not done yet!" Shadow Milk Cookie snaps you back into attention. Making sure he has your full focus, which he adores, he continues on.

"Ehem. But then... [Name] Cookie BETRAYED ME! Yes, ME, out of all cookies! When I was so loving towards them!" The crowd of puppets gasp, mutters heard along themselves.

"Oh, the terror, the drama, the heartbreak—"

"Shadow Milk Cookie!" You interrupted his sob story, which is when you jumped out of your seat. Listening to his narrative for any longer is not how you would describe optimal.

The jester releases giggles, storing away his puppet show with a poof. His dough in the air, Shadow Milk flies over to you.

"Wooow, big reactions from the crowd! Didja love it? I can tell you loved it." He bats his multicolored eyelashes at you, a twinkle of amusement shining in his eyes.

"Stop with your child's play. There are crucial subjects to speak of!"

"Mmmm, like what—Ooooh! Are you talking about that Soul Jam THIEF? Awwwh, are you offering to help me take em down, maybe? You are just the sweetes—"

"No. You need to stop what you plan for Pure Vanilla Cookie." Shadow Milk Cookie rolls his eyes at your heroic words, showing he dismisses your request.

"Ugh! Honey, are you really siding with HIM?" His tone suggests he believes he is in the right.

"Tsk, I know he'll ultimately turn into me, but why not have the original? HELLOOOO, I’m right here!" His hand waves in front of your face, as if trying to rope you back into reality.

"You'll bring Earthbread to ruins! Your Soul Jam was taken due to your own greed, Shadow Milk. Leave Pure Vanilla alone," you spoke with a stern tone, like it would ever leave an effect on the cookie floating before you.

"Oh, [Name] Cookie, how they've corrupted your sweet mind..." He looks into the gloomy sky, feigning a face of reminiscence.

"Hmmmmm, maybe, just maybe I'll listen to my dearest star if they apolooogizeeeed!" His words are nothing but lies, but fooling you at least once is his on his bucket list. It wouldn't hurt to give it another shot.

"...Apologize? For what?" Seems like your interest is peaked!

"For what?! There are many, many, maaaany things for you to grovel about, ya goof!" His face is just close enough to catch a whiff of his sweetly scented dough.

"But, I suppose for, y'know, not being there when I got out of that stupid tree!" He decided with a tilt of his head.

"What? I am not the one who sealed you in there, even though it was well deserved," you replied. Shadow Milk Cookie decided to ignore that last part.

"No, no, not that! Don'tcha know how sad I was when I got out of there?! I looked for your face between all those pathetic faeries, but you went GHOST!" He places his hand over his chest like the drama queen he is.

"How could my favorite cookie miss my revenance!" He cannot be serious, but deep down, you know he speaks with his crumbs included.

A simple sorry is all you have to say, and it isn't like losing a bit more of your dignity would hurt. For your fellow cookies, you tell yourself.

"Fine. I... apologize for missing out on your reappearance." Shadow Milk Cookie's façade of misery is gone in a snap. Instead, a large, toothy grin covers his face.

"Now, you will leave Pure Vanilla Cookie with his Soul Jam intact, yes?"

"Ah, you don't know how long I've awaited to hear that come from your lips!" Ignoring your question entirely, Shadow Milk nuzzles his cheek against yours, similar to a cat. You yourself are unaware of why you failed to pull away.

"Shadow Milk Cookie," you repeated, as he decided to leave you unanswered. He huffs before giving you a proper response.

"Right, right. I'll leave Silly Vanilly alone, all because you're such a good cookie!" Most of you refuses to believe him, but for now, gratitude will be expressed on your side.

"Thank yo—"

"UNDER ONE CONDITION!" Witches. There never fails to be a "condition" with this cookie. You remained silent, waiting for his next words.

"I. Want. A. Kiss!" With each word, he positions himself even closer than he previously was, the blueberry aroma he carries wafting your way.

He is far from surprised when your mouth remains closed. You can get a little shy at times, he would say, when in truth, you really are just that incredulous.

"Earthbread to [Name] Cookie! Do I gotta repeat myself?" He laughs, finding your current expression to be hilarious.

Regaining your state of mind, you find yourself unsure of what to say. Of course you should decline without a second thought. THE Shadow Milk of all cookies is asking you for a kiss! Who in their right mind would say yes?

Oh, but as the case may be, you were never in your right mind.

"I..."

"I, I, I." Shadow Milk Cookie mocks you, yet it's endearing in his own way.

"C’mon, you know you love me! After all, I can recall certain events that would deem us a bit more than the rivals you act like we are," he chirped, making your mental state even worse as the warmth of his hand lands atop your shoulder.

You want to rid of those memories, you've attempted! However, it is much simpler to say than to do when trying to erase experiences with the one cookie you have ever cherished.

This is why you keep your identity hidden, why no one is aware of the power you hold underneath. It would only lead to more questions of the beasts back then, and that leads to prying about Shadow Milk Cookie.

You will admit that your relationship with Shadow Milk was very different compared to now. He and you shared many tender memories. A couple instances were slightly too tender to label you pair as mere friends, but the both of you were put under too many responsibilities to ever have a chance to change close friends into something more.

However, that never eliminated the love floating in the air, and it surely didn't rid of the rushed kisses taking place in empty classrooms.

While memories from the past appear, feelings from back then aren't too far from showing up as well, and you are very knowing of what said feelings were in specifics. Arising emotions can go for both you and Shadow Milk Cookie, but facing that is mortifying.

The sudden movement of your hood being pulled away struck you back to life.

"Pssh, what good will this hood do? I want to see your entire lovely face when our lips meet!" Shadow Milk Cookie brought his levitating to a stop while you were distracted, standing right before you.

"Who do ya really think you’re hiding from in this old hood? Me? Hahaha, that's hilarious! Perhaps I ought to dress you in attire matching my own?" Your stomach feels heavy, and you hate the fact that you cannot discern whether it's with butterflies or dread. Maybe a mix of both.

"You must promise to not bring harm upon any cookie." Now you're making conditions, but you know you only say them to ease your conscience regarding your soon betrayal of the others. Asking the Cookie of Deceit to make a promise has a predictable conclusion.

"I've been trapped in that cursed tree for so long, deprived of touch I longed for from you! Must you make your beloved wait any longer?"

You can't. As pathetic as that sounds, you cannot leave the beast to wait. That being mentioned, you press your lips to his smooth ones, your partner squeaking from your bout of boldness.

Perhaps Pure Vanilla Cookie can find it in his dough to forgive you for your greed. He should come to know that Shadow Milk is a very manipulative cookie.

Or maybe you never put up much of a fight to begin with.

Shadow Milk melts into you afterwards, returning your kiss with more power than you gave. It's clear to see just how eager he was to have you back in his grasp.

His arms hold a tight grip around your neck, putting the entirety of his weight onto you, with one leg lifted into the air per usual. Repeatedly giving you small kisses afterward, Shadow Milk can't help but giggle.

Underneath, he's giddy at the fact he managed to slip under the walls you placed for him, which, if you asked him, such barriers should be nonexistent for him, your dear soon-to-be spouse.

Besides that, now he's certain to recruit you towards the livelier side of the beasts! You might've refused to call yourself such a term at first, but it was inevitable.

He can't wait to show you off to every cookie on Earthbread, to flaunt how you discovered the lies of the world and came into his loving embrace willingly. Your duo comeback will shake every crumb without a doubt.

Pure Vanilla Cookie's face will be priceless! With you here now, the finest performance he has ever hosted can only be awaited.

He hopes those doughbrains are prepared for a major plot twist.

#shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk crk #cr kingdom #gn reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom

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moonyspupp · 7 months ago

Text

You just don’t listen do you?

Severus snape X f!Reader smut

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My first fanfic on here!

CW: teacher student relationship (reader is of age!) breeding, minor name calling, SMUT

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While your many years at hogwarts went by very quickly, it feels like only yesterday you first stepped foot onto the grounds. Even though you had to stay an extra year due to poor marks, you loved hogwarts the same nevertheless. With all the laughter and excitement you shared with your classmates and friends these years, your mind was always occupied with the thoughts of your potions teacher;

Severus Snape

You weren’t sure what about him caught your eye, all you knew was that you wanted him, badly. None of your friends knew about your secret desire or you could even say , the hots for your teacher, how could you ever confess to that? But as your final year at the school comes near, there’s a dreadful realization that once you’re graduate, that’s it for your little dream when it came to him. As you daydream about graduation day and the fact you’ll leave everything in this school behind very soon, sooner than you realize. You’re suddenly brought out of your trance as Professor Snape smacks the back of your chair with his book.

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"Daydreaming again, Miss (L/N)?" he asks, his voice heavy with irritation.

My eyes snap open, the force of the smack bringing me back to reality. I look up to see Professor Snape looming over my desk, his lips curled into a sneer. I shake awake at his words; now fully processing it. “Oh shit..” I mutter . The class now quiet now as no one dared to say a word; the only sounds that could be heard were the bubbling cauldrons

“I-im sorry sir, im just a bit tired today” I say stuttering from embarrassment

“Well obviously you’ve been tired for the past three weeks , obvious by looking at your marks” Snape says harshly giving my seat another quick smack. I nearly jump in my seat , not daring to meet his gaze, I slightly tremble not knowing what to say next; what he would say next . “See me after class miss (L/N), at this rate I’ll be surprised to see you graduate this school” he says nearly snarling “I would hate to have you again as a student.” The class is still dead silent, as if everyone’s waiting for something to happen. “Yes sir” I say muttering trying my best not to make it so obvious I was beyond embarrassed at the confrontation about my marks. Snape eyes me up and down before returning back to the front of the class, his dark robes trailing near his feet as he walked briskly. For the rest of the class period, i try my best to focus on the lecture, but i can't shake the feeling of the embarrassment I faced earlier. Every time you glance at Snape, i can feel his gaze on me, like a hawk watching its prey. I thought to myself, “I knew I wanted his attention but this is NOT what I meant..” I tap my foot against the cobblestone floor nervously, keeping my eyes down either at my shoes or my empty notes.

As the class comes to an end, the students pack up their things and start to leave. My friends give me a look of nervousness, I knew I had to stay back but the fact it was going to be just me and him alone in the classroom was so terrifying but somehow it wasn’t in a scary way. Snape's voice rings out, stopping me in your tracks as i attempted to leave the classroom before he could see.

"Not you, Miss (L/N). Don’t forget you’ll be staying behind today."

I let out an annoyed groan before I turn around and face him, the realization that the only two people in this now empty classroom were you and him.

Your potion teacher, the one teacher you had the hots for

I feel my face slightly flush at the thought. The room was quietly; the only sound my nervous breaths in the still air. Snape stands at his desk, idly straightening some papers, his dark eyes never leaving you. I feel his eyes almost burning into me, even though i didn’t look up once after we were alone, i could just feel it. I take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row.

"You've been struggling in my class for quite some time," he says, his voice low and stern. "Why do you think that is?"

“I’m just a bit scared that I’ll graduate soon sir.” I let out a nervous laugh, I tap my foot on the floor once again but this time even faster. Snape's eyes narrow slightly and he stops straightening the papers, his full attention now on me.

"Is that so?" he says, his voice neutral. "You think that's a valid excuse for your poor performance in my class?" Snape stands up and walks around the desk, his footsteps echoing in the silent classroom. He stands directly over me, his body just a few inches away from mine. I'm not one to tolerate excuses, Miss (L/N). I expect excellence from all my students, and you haven't been living up to those expectations.” He snarls

I shake at his words, he’s never scolded me in such a way like this other than today, sure he’s called me out in class for sleeping or missing notes, but never this way, never this close. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear and somehow, desire as well. For a few seconds longer I let my thoughts dwell until I bring myself to answer, “I apologize sir it’s just-“

He cuts me off slamming both his hands on the desk, the sound nearly echoing in the room. “I don’t want to hear any of your excuses” he groans, his facial expression changing to one that’s obviously more irritated. “I’ve heard it all before, you think I’ve never had a student who couldn’t care less about my class Miss (L/N)? You wouldn’t be the first he hisses” He says his eyes fixing on me.

“But sir that’s not it I swear to Merlin, I’ve just been distrac-“ I say frantically trying to prove to Snape wrong. Snape's hand reaches out quick and grips my chin, gripping it tightly and forcing me to look into his eyes. His eyes burn into mine as his face was mere inches away.

"You've been distracted?” he asks sarcastically , his voice a low growl. "It's a wonder how you manage to pass your other classes;if you even are at this point, with so much going on in that pretty little head of yours. Tell me, exactly what is causing this... distraction?” I tremble at let out a whimper as I feel his grip tightening on his face, He forces my chin up even higher to try to get an answer out of me. I see Snape’s lips curl into a slight smirk, my breathing became more unsteady by the second , as I feel my desire and arousal growing.

“Nothing sir” I say looking scared

Snape backs me up to his desk. “You must think I’m stupid little girl, do you really think I was born yesterday?

I see the way you look at me in class, this entire year, don’t try to deny it now miss (L/N), look at the way you’re quivering under my touch.” He says his voice trailing off and grip still steady on my neck. My breathing hitches at his words “fuck he’s right” I thought to myself. I feel my brows furrowing and my face becoming hotter by the second. I stir slightly at his grip needing more, more of his touch, I accidentally let out a soft moan. Snape nearly flinches at the sudden sound.

Your moan sent a shiver down Snape’s spine. He can feel your body responding to his presence, the combination of fear and desire making both of your heads spin. He eventually releases my chin and moves even closer to me, his body now pressed against mine. His hand shaking around my waist with a grip that was almost painful and apparent with desire.

"I know what you want little girl," he whispers in my ear, his voice low and seductive. "And I have just the way to get you to admit it." My arms wrap around his neck to bring him closer. Merlin you just had to feel more of him..

He nips at my earlobe, his teeth biting at my skin. The feeling goes straight to your core, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes my lips. I feel my legs shaking around his waist. I breathe heavy in his ear, my face turning even more red at the realization that he hasn’t even touched me yet and I’m acting this way.

Snape lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Hush" he says, his hand moving to grip your hip. "No sounds until I tell you, if you want to misbehave in my class then you’ll have to work for your pleasure. Bad girls don’t get rewarded."

“Yes sir” I say shaking

He shifts himself so I can wrap around him better, I can feel his hard length lining up with my core. I grip his robes tightly as I feel it throb under his pants, the desires I’ve had are slowly becoming a reality, I have a hard time accepting that and my brain feels as it’s nearly melting at this point. I hear him groan as the readjusted position seems to have an effect on him too. I lightly squeeze my legs together and push myself further down onto his hardness just to be a bit of a tease to him.

I feel his grip on my hips tighten , his nails digging into the flesh of my thigh. His hand comes back up to grip my chin once more, “you minx” he hisses before crashing his lips onto mine. The kiss was possessive and rough, I moan as I feel him hold me tighter against him. His tongue slips into my mouth, it feels demanding, dominating even, I give into the feeling and let myself be devoured in that moment. It nearly feels like forever until I pull away from the kiss slightly to meet his gaze, breathing heavily with a moan in between each breath.

With my swollen parted lips and my eyes slightly heavy with lust “Professor” I say huffing with desire “Ravage me.” His eyes widen at your words, a hungry grin spreading across his face. "You don't know what you're asking for, Miss (L/N). Are you sure you can handle it?"

“Please!” I say nearly whining, my heads thrown back and my legs are shaking now more than ever. I feel the desire pooling in my core making it impossible to speak properly, all my words come out in almost a babble, but deep in my head I know I’ve entered dangerous territory, but you can't help yourself. You want this, you want him.

Snape smirks, his grip on you tightening. "Very well," he says, his voice a dangerous growl. "I'll give you exactly what you're asking for."

I can barely prepared what happens next until I feel him spin me around and pins me against his desk. His body pressed against mine even harder than before, his hands roaming over my body, his lips finding my neck once again.

"You asked for this," his voice a low growl. "And I'll give it to you, all of it.”

I moan loudly at the sudden feeling , my backside now exposed to him, I feel my legs slightly kick and twitch in anticipation.

Snape runs two fingers up and down my soaked panties then pulls them to the side, my body shakes slightly at the pleasure, I subconsciously let my moans out. I feel a tight grip on my hair then my head being pulled back, I hear him whisper; voice dripping like sweet dark desire. “I thought I made myself clear when I said to hush?”

“m so sorry sir! ” I say with slight tears welling up in my eyes. He brings his face closer to my bare neck and I feel his lips biting on my exposed skin. I cover my mouth with one of my hands to muffle any potential moans that could come next. I shut my eyes and let my body accept the feeling.

“Such a greedy thing” he whispers in my ear as his grip on me tightens. I can only whimper in response“So bold of you to tell me to ravage you. You don't even know what you're asking for." His whisper turning a primal growl. I moan into my hand once more nodding feverishly, my body responding to his every touch and every word. His hand moves back down to my ruined panties, his grip tight and possessive on me. "But I'm going to give it to you, darling," he hisses. "And you're going to take whatever I give you, aren't you?"

“Yes professor!” I cry out, my hips moving against his hands greedily. I feel my heart racing, my head is spinning, and I can barely think straight. I hear him laugh, his hand continue down its path down your body. He tugs at the hem of your skirt, his breath hot on your ear.

"I thought so,” he whispers. “You’re trembling so much dear, you want this more than you'd like to admit, don't you?"

“Yes sir” I say burying my face into my arms shyly. My body still violently shaking with pleasure and embarrassment. I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling followed by the sound of fabric hitting the floor, he slips off my ruined panties as well. I nearly wince at the feeling of Snape rubbing the swollen head of his cock up and down my leaking slit. I moan loudly at the feeling and feel a sharp slap come down onto my behind. I arch my back at the sudden pain and shriek.

“You just never listen do you Miss(L/N)?”

“Please professor I can’t take it anymore” I say tears running down my face now. “Im begging you please” I could no longer create coherent thoughts and all the words that came out of my mouth became nothing but babbling.

Snape chuckles “Then let it all out then dear.”

I feel him push past my fold, sheathing his entire length into my tight insides. I let out almost a scream at the feeling of pleasure. “Professor!” I say crying out , I throw my head down even lower, not being able to keep it up any longer. He leans over my back and moans, “fuck, you’re so tight. It’s like your body was made for me to claim” He groans. He was now balls deep in me, I shake at the feeling of being stretched out so much and by the man I wanted so badly. He kissed and bites my shoulders and back wildly as he pounded me hard and primal into his desk. I felt my back arch as he gripped my hips tight and thrusted even harder. “You’re so perfect..” I heard him mutter under his breath as he moaned. “more please sir I can take it” I say babbling , gripping onto the edge of the desk for dear life. Snape happily obliges, I feel my insides nearly split open as he continues his rough pounding. Hearing his guttural moans sends me over the edge.

His grip comes up to my throat , the gasp that came out my mouth sounded strangled yet full of pleasure. I feel another sharp slap come down my ass. “Fuck!” I scream out

My potions teacher was ravaging my pussy, using my body.

My eyes begin to roll back into my skull as I let him do as he pleased with my body. I felt my desires begging to turn primal, “Professor breed m’ please” I said barely holding onto my composure. A dribble of drool began to seep its way out of the corner of my mouth as I huffed. Snape come undone by my pleas and need to be bred.

I hear his breathing hitch into gasps, I feel him trembling as he continued to pound behind me as I heard him speak “ you’re sure love? You want to take that chance? You’re willing to let me breed you? Without any protection?”

Though I couldn’t see behind me I still felt a smile creep onto Snapes face. “Yes please breed me professor let m’ have your children! I cried out” , whining at the need to be filled to the brim with his cum, to carry and become round with his children. All the thoughts and pleasure overstimulated me to the point where the only thing I could do was moan,whimper, and drool.

Snape fucks me even harder , the desk below me starts to creak and thump against the floor. I moan loudly at his brutal rough thrusts. “Gonna fill you up so full with my cum darling” “gonna be so fucking pretty with your belly full with my children, you’d want that wouldn’t you slut?” He asks , “yes please don’t stop” I babble not being able to lift my head up to speak properly. “

he groans at my fucked state, “gonna cum “ he mutters. I feel his grip on my hips becoming tighter, his nails digging into my behind, his thrusts became more and more sloppy by the second, “m’ too sir “ I say muttering; my brain nearly fried at that point. The volume of our moans combined eventually spilt us both over the edge. I feel Snape feel my warm cunt up full with his hot potent seed. Afterwards I felt him lean over my back for quite a while , obviously tired from that entire ordeal, maybe even a hint of hesitation when it came to pulling out played a part in that.

Eventually he did, drops of his seed dripped onto the floor under us, the withdrawal made me whimper at the loss of what made me feel full. Snape and I take another moment to collect our composure. He sets me upright on his desk and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Gorgeous girl..” he mutters , I smile at his words , “I’ve always wanted to do that” I say shyly

“I know” Snape says buckling his pants again.

I give him a pout at the fact he didn’t play along, “can I stay with you for tonight sir?” He rolled his eyes and nodded. I slip my underwear back on and readjust my skirt and top, I grab onto his arm, “don’t pretend like you don’t like me sir, I know you’ll miss me once I graduate” I say still giving him a pout.

He gives me an irritated look but I could sense a slight bit of affection through it

“I’ll still be seeing you after you’re graduated.”

I give him a sweet smile now holding onto his hand as he led me through the corridors to his quarters..

#severus snape x reader #severus snape #severus snape smut #harry potter #severus x reader #severus x y/n #severus x you #severus snape x y/n #severus smut #snape smut #harry potter smut

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rafesapologist · 6 months ago

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strangers ─ drew starkey; ch. 1

summary: getting casted on outer banks threw you into overnight stardom, and an unforeseeable off-screen romance with one of hollywood's newest and biggest heartthrobs.

warnings: nothing yet, just not proof read fully

author's note: i want to preface that i was heavily influenced by karen x graham from daisy jones and the six (iykyk) as well as chase and madelyn's irl relationship for this story. i'm really excited for you guys to read this and as usual, if you'd like to be on the taglist please let me know!

You couldn’t sit still, fingers twisting the hem of your shirt while your knee bounced uncontrollably in the backseat of the rented SUV. The soft hum of the engine only amplified your restlessness. Your eyes flickered around, catching glimpses of palm trees and blurred tourists through the tinted windows—offering a momentary shield from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun and the bustling crowds beyond.

“How are you feeling?” Kendra, your manager, chimed in from beside you, her smile perfectly in place, glossy lips forming a curve that felt rehearsed.

You forced a chuckle, though it barely masked the pounding in your chest. “Just a little nervous, that’s all.” The words came out flat, a thin veil over the tension twisting inside you.

Kendra gave your leg a quick pat, her reassurance as smooth as ever. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve already nailed the hardest part—the audition. A chemistry read? That’s a breeze in comparison.” Her voice was soothing, but her focus never left the phone in her hand, the gesture feeling mechanical—like a line delivered without thought.

Auditioning for the show had been a gamble, and the stakes felt even higher now. You were still a relative unknown, and Outer Banks wasn’t just any show—it was the show. A streaming giant. You’d almost declined when the offer came, the weight of its success pressing down like an invisible hand. But here you were, convinced by the right mix of encouragement and blind hope, about to see if that gamble would pay off.

"You just need to go in there and feed off your co-star’s energy. Whatever emotion they’re giving you, absorb it and give it right back," your manager instructed, her voice firm as her eyes finally lifted from her phone. She leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on your arm as if to ground you, while the SUV glided through the final stretch of traffic. The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, matched only by the tension in your chest. The destination loomed closer, visible just beyond the tinted windows, and her gaze locked on you, expectant and unwavering, as if her will alone could push you over the finish line.

“Got it,” you replied, forcing another thin-lipped smile—polite yet distant, as if dismissing her with the same gesture. Your attempt to stay cordial was barely masking your desire for space. Just then, your heart gave a hard thud, perfectly timed with the jolt of the SUV rolling over the first speed bump in the studio parking lot. The looming reality hit you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs, as the building came into full view. Each second that passed only deepened the pit in your stomach, the dreadful weight of what was to come pressing harder.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the driver, slipping a small cash tip across the center console as your manager was already halfway out of the SUV. It was a quiet gesture of appreciation, a way to acknowledge the small but crucial role he’d played in getting you there, to this moment. He turned, offering you a kind, knowing smile before you stepped out, gently closing the door behind you. As you straightened your skirt, you couldn’t help but stare up at the building in front of you, its towering stature appearing overhead.

Kendra strode ahead, confidently leading the way as she pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside. Though her presence could be demanding and stern, in that moment it offered a small but necessary comfort amid the unfamiliar sea of faces that now surrounded you. The room quieted as you entered, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction, their stares heavy and intense, making you feel small under the weight of their scrutiny. You forced a smile—thin but polite—trying to seem more outgoing than you felt, hoping to project the right impression even as your nerves simmered beneath the surface.

“Well, look who it is—the girl of the hour! Y/N! So nice to see you again,” an unfamiliar voice rang out, though the man’s face sparked a vague sense of recognition, likely from the audition. He stood up, extending his hand with a broad smile that was meant to put you at ease.

"Hello," you replied warmly, masking the swirl of anxiety inside as you shook his hand, maintaining a steady grip. “Thank you again for allowing me this far into the audition process. I’m very grateful.” Your voice remained poised, calm, even though your insides felt like they were twisting into knots.

Your manager’s approval resonated softly behind you, a gentle hum of reassurance as she watched the exchange unfold. “I’m not sure if I introduced myself properly last time we met. My name is Jonah; I’m the director for the show,” he said, his voice rich and authoritative, each word heavy with expectation. A lump formed in your throat, the gravity of his presence amplifying the stakes, pressing down like a lead weight.

“Today, we’re going to have you do a chemistry read with who will be your love interest on the show.” His words hung in the air like a charged whisper, and your eyes widened, disbelief swirling within you. The truth struck with the force of a summer storm; you hadn’t fully grasped the role awaiting you until now.

The thought of embodying someone’s love interest sent a ripple of exhilaration and fear through your veins, making your stomach tumble as if caught in a tempest. Would it be a playful spark, filled with laughter and fleeting glances, or a brooding romance, steeped in longing and tension?

You nodded, a practiced motion that belied the ball of anxiety swirling within. Each beat of your heart echoed the dread tightening in your stomach, the sensation bubbling up like a restless tide. The thought of being paired with one of the actors to portray a romance on-screen sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in your throat aside, your gaze flickering around the room, desperate for any hint of who your co-star might be. Each unfamiliar face felt like a potential source of scrutiny, and the air thickened with tension as you scanned the room, searching for clues amidst the sea of strangers.

“Okay!” Jonah clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and authoritative, breaking the taut silence that had settled. “Let’s get Drew out here.” His voice rang out, clear and commanding, drawing every eye to the door, where a buzz of anticipation rippled through the room. You felt the air shift, charged with expectation, as if the very walls were leaning in to hear who would step through that doorway.

A wave of heat washed over you at the sound of his name, igniting a fire of recognition deep within. You had seen him countless times in glossy magazines and flickering screens, caught glimpses of him at film festivals where the air buzzed with admiration, yet never had your paths crossed until now. Though he wasn’t the biggest name yet, he was a force—a powerful actor whose presence resonated through the industry like a distant thunderstorm.

As the thought of sharing the screen with him settled in your mind, your heart fluttered, a nervous bird trapped in a cage of anticipation. How could you possibly keep pace with someone whose talent seemed to flow effortlessly, whose performances were a masterclass in emotion? Doubt began to coil around your thoughts, tightening like a vine, each tendril whispering fears of inadequacy.

The room felt like a distant echo, the chatter of voices fading into a soft hum as you waited for him to enter. Your heart raced, a wild thump that reverberated through your chest, each pulse a reminder of the anticipation coursing through your veins. The other directors and screenwriters settled back into their seats, alongside your manager, their eyes fixed on you like an audience eager for the first act to begin.

Just as you began to drown in the weight of their stares, the atmosphere shifted, the air charged with electric anticipation. The door creaked open, and time seemed to stretch, every second hanging heavy. Your gaze snapped toward the sound, and your throat tightened as a tall, brooding figure stepped into the room. His presence filled the space, his stature both commanding and slightly intimidating.

For a brief moment, your mind went blissfully blank, as if time had paused to let the reality of him sink in. He moved with an effortless grace, each step purposeful as he greeted the group at the table, his voice smooth and resonant. You could see Jonah nodding in acknowledgment, and then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, he turned his gaze toward you.

Suddenly, he was there, standing before you, and the air between you felt impossibly thick, heavy with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The moment was alive with a sense of anticipation, the unknown curling around you like smoke. You straightened your posture instinctively, trying to summon every ounce of composure, as if by holding yourself steady, you could convince the room—and yourself—that this was effortless, that you weren’t rattled by the sheer gravity of the encounter.

With a smooth, fluid motion, Drew extended his hand, the gesture both graceful and commanding, his fingers outstretched with a quiet confidence that spoke of experience beyond his years. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Drew,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft, a gentle warmth woven into the words that caught you off guard. His tone was far kinder than you’d imagined, the kind of voice that could lull a room into ease.

As you reached out to meet his handshake, his touch was firm yet light, grounding yet unassuming, and in that brief connection, the world around you seemed to pause. The noise of the room, the watching eyes, the weight of your nerves—all of it faded, if only for a heartbeat. His presence was commanding but not overwhelming, his demeanor holding the delicate balance between strength and gentleness.

"Hello," you replied, your voice lifting an octave higher than usual, a subtle attempt to come across as feminine, poised. "I'm Y/N." As his hand met yours, your attention flickered to the way his fingers moved—effortlessly, fluidly—sending a tremor through your chest. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, your pulse quickening under the gentle but assured pressure of his grip.

You couldn’t ignore how small you felt beneath his towering presence. The realization that you had to tilt your head slightly just to meet his eyes made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. His height, his frame—it all made the space between you feel charged, his presence simultaneously grounding and intimidating.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said again, his voice smooth as honey, the warmth in his eyes unwavering. His gaze was soft, kind, a contradiction to the commanding figure he cut. You could feel his energy, an unspoken ease radiating from him, as if he could sense the nerves bubbling beneath your surface.

"If you're feeling nervous or uncomfortable at any point, just let me know," he added, his voice dropping lower, as though he were shielding his words from the watchful eyes of the casting directors around you. "But I'm sure you've got this." His tone was gentle, reassuring, his words slipping through the space between you with a quiet confidence.

You nodded quietly at his gesture, a soft acknowledgment of his awareness and kindness, the unspoken "thank you" hanging between you. Before you could find any words to respond, one of the casting crew approached, handing each of you a script for the audition. The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should, the magnitude of the moment settling in deeper.

Chemistry reads had never been your strong suit, not in the brief time you’d been working in this industry. And this? This felt like a leap into a whole new realm, with expectations looming over you. Your eyes flicked down to the script, scanning the lines with the practiced speed of someone used to absorbing words as if they were lifelines. You read them once, then twice, allowing the emotions on the page to sink in and swirl around your mind, even as the undercurrent of nerves made it harder to focus.

Drew stood calmly in front of you, his presence steadying but no less overwhelming. You could feel his quiet confidence as he glanced through his own lines. The room was still, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional murmur from the casting team in the background. You straightened your back, holding onto every ounce of composure you could muster, and waited for the director’s cue.

"Alright, you may begin whenever you're ready," Jonah announced, his soft smile doing little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. His eyes flickered between you and Drew, expectant, watching for the magic to unfold. As his words sank in, a queasy wave rolled through your stomach, the weight of the moment pressing harder against your nerves. There was no turning back now—any hesitation would be a glaring failure, something that could follow you like a shadow in this unforgiving industry. The thought of being blackballed clawed at your mind, and you suddenly longed to disappear, to slip into a place where eyes weren’t always watching.

But before you could let the panic take hold, Drew stepped into the moment, his voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline. He began his lines effortlessly, the words rolling off his tongue as though they belonged to him, his presence filling the room with a quiet confidence. It was as if he had taken command of the space, a seasoned professional steering the scene with ease.

As if possessed by his character, Rafe, Drew dove into his lines with raw intensity. "Maisy, I care about you. But I-I can't risk it. I would never forgive myself if I got you involved in my mess and you got hurt because of it." His hand trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he was drawing from deep within. He pointed to his chest with a shaky finger, his voice quivering just enough to feel real, to pull at the heartstrings. His head hung low, the weight of sorrow written across his face, his entire presence drenched in regret.

You stood there, momentarily in awe of his transformation. The way he embodied Rafe with such vulnerability fueled your own performance, making it impossible not to feel the emotions he was radiating. It lit a fire within you, urging you to dive into the scene, to match the depth he was offering.

"Rafe," you spoke, your voice slipping into the soft, pleading tone of Maisy, letting the character take over your body as effortlessly as breathing. The words trembled on your lips, each one laced with a quiet desperation. "I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to be with you. Don’t… don’t do this."

You shook your head slowly, your movements measured, deliberate, as you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your hand reached out, grazing his cheek, the tender contact filled with unspoken emotion. As if on cue, tears welled in your eyes, the sting of them amplifying the moment. You gazed up at him, your expression filled with a mixture of pain and hope, as if you were begging not just for Maisy’s life, but for everything she believed in. It was a skill you prided yourself on—channeling emotion so deeply that it felt like it bled from your very soul, and in this moment, you were no longer yourself. You were Maisy, standing on the edge of heartbreak.

Drew’s eyes, glossy with unshed tears, locked onto yours, his sorrow so palpable it seemed to seep into the air between you. His hands ran through his hair in frustration, fingers gripping the ends as if trying to hold himself together. He began to pace, his movements restless, the emotional weight in his voice thick and raw.

"You don’t get it, Maisy," he started, his voice breaking with a mix of frustration and pain. "Everything I’ve ever cared about in my life has abandoned me. I’ve never had anybody who cares about me like you do. I love you so much that it hurts—it hurts me," he cried, pressing a trembling finger into his chest, the gesture full of anguish. His blue eyes, once so calm, were now brimming with tears that slipped down his face, streaking his cheeks as he stood there, vulnerable in a way that left him utterly exposed.

"I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you," he continued, his voice cracking, "but I have to protect you, even if that means letting you go." His brows furrowed deeply, his entire expression twisted in agony, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, Rafe was no longer a character—he was real, and the pain etched on his face was authentic, an outpouring of emotions he couldn’t contain.

But you didn’t miss a beat. Despite the intensity of his performance, you held steady, the emotions boiling within you just as fierce. "You can’t make that decision for me, Rafe," you pleaded, your voice rising with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Your hands flew into the air as if surrendering to the chaos of the moment.

"If I get hurt, that’s on me. I knew the risk of being with you, and I don’t care!" Your words spilled out with conviction, each one wrapped in the weight of Maisy’s determination. "Nothing is going to make me leave." Your voice was firm but edged with vulnerability, the sternness in your tone undercut by the undeniable pain that flickered beneath. You stood there, watching him, as if your very heart was on the line, a pitiful sort of strength anchoring you in place, demanding that he listen—that he understand.

"Being with you is worth it all," you added softly, your voice tinged with a raw desperation that could only come from someone who had lived through heartbreak. The vulnerability in your tone wrapped itself around the moment, thickening the air between you. Drew’s blue eyes, glossy with emotion, flickered between yours as if he were trying to decode the tragedy etched in your expression. It was as though, in that fleeting silence, his heart was breaking too, caught in the moment of the scene you were creating together.

Then, without warning, his large hands cupped your face, his touch sending warmth rushing to your cheeks. His palms, rough yet tender, cradled your skin, and for a moment, the world outside the scene seemed to vanish. "Promise me you won't go anywhere," he pleaded, his voice trembling with the same desperate intensity that mirrored your own. The emotion in his words was so intense, it felt as if the two of you were teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

"I promise, Rafe," you reassured him, your voice soft but unwavering, a soothing balm to the storm brewing in the room. Despite the emotional intensity, you held steady, grounding both of you in the moment.

For a brief second, the world paused. There was silence—a sacred, fragile quiet—allowing the vulnerability between you to speak louder than any dialogue could. The casting crew sat in rapt attention, witnessing the depth you had both drawn from. Drew’s thumb gently grazed your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, as though he couldn’t bear to break the connection. The moment was electric, heavy with meaning, as if you were no longer acting but living the characters’ truths.

"I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? I swear on my life," he vowed, his voice deep and resolute, yet drenched in emotion and passion. His words hit like a surge of energy, drawing you in, making your heart skip in response. There was something in the way he spoke that made it feel real, as if this promise wasn't just for Maisy, but for you too.

You nodded up at him, chest heaving as you breathed in the weight of the moment, each inhale heavy with the raw intensity of the scene. It felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, emotions pulsing between your bodies like a silent current, your heart racing to keep up. You weren’t acting anymore—every word felt lived, every gesture steeped in the desperation and love your characters clung to. The air between you and Drew hummed, alive with the electricity of shared vulnerability, a fragile bond that tethered you both to this moment.

Then, like a sharp crack in the stillness, a clap echoed through the room. The spell shattered instantly, the delicate tension that had built between you dissolving as reality rushed back in.

"That was incredible," Jonah’s voice broke through the haze, his head shaking in awe, a grin of disbelief spreading across his face. "The chemistry between you two is beautiful." His words were thick with praise, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Drew, a faint smile teasing the edges of your lips. The connection you’d forged in those few minutes lingered, a quiet understanding that neither of you spoke aloud.

"I think we’ve seen enough," Jonah continued, his tone final yet filled with certainty. "I think you’d be perfect as Maisy."

The world around you stilled, sound fading into a distant hum as his words sank in. Your heart seemed to pause, suspended in disbelief, before it raced forward, pounding against your chest like a wild drum. It was as if time itself had slowed, every second stretching out as the magnitude of what he’d said enveloped you.

"Oh my God, thank you!" The words burst from your lips, a mix of breathless excitement and overwhelming gratitude. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink as joy flooded through you, warmth spreading through your body in waves. It was impossible to contain the wide, radiant smile that broke across your face. The world blurred around you, your focus narrowing to this single, life-altering moment. You felt lighter, as though all the doubts and fears you’d carried had evaporated into thin air.

Your eyes darted between Jonah and Drew, the weight of their gazes making everything feel real—so achingly real. You had done it. You had stepped into the role, not just as Maisy, but as someone who had finally claimed their place in the world.

"You did great," Drew said, his smile wide and genuine, a warm glow in his eyes that radiated excitement. You could feel his energy wrapping around you, a comforting embrace that mirrored your own joy. As your smile blossomed, his grew in tandem.

Your manager beamed, clapping along with the group of directors, her expression a blend of pride and exhilaration that you had never witnessed before. The room buzzed with energy, each person caught up in the moment of celebration.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity," you replied, your voice a melody of gratitude, bubbling up from within. "I won’t let you down." You stepped forward, reaching for Jonah’s hand, your heart fluttering with excitement as you shook his hand firmly. It was a gesture of gratitude, a promise of your commitment, and you felt a rush of warmth at the connection—a shared understanding that this was just the beginning.

You moved down the line, shaking hands with the rest of the crew, each grip solid and reassuring. Their smiles met yours, each one a testament to the hard work and passion that had brought you to this moment. In those brief exchanges, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose that ignited a fire within you.

You made your way back to Drew, and to your surprise, he enveloped you in a hug that spoke volumes, his arms wrapping around you in a warmth that felt both comforting and exhilarating. "Congratulations," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle melody that resonated in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The embrace lingered, a moment suspended in time, before he pulled back, his smile radiating a bright, infectious joy that lit up the room.

"Thank you. You were awesome, by the way. I'm excited to work with you," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips, raw and unfiltered, yet undeniably true.

Drew chuckled, a rich sound that sent a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he nodded, "Likewise," he replied, adding a playful wink that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. In that fleeting exchange, the connection deepened, an unspoken promise of collaboration and creativity.

Turning towards your manager, you embraced her, feeling the solid weight of her pride enveloping you like a soft cloak. She returned the hug with a firm pat on your back, her touch both grounding and uplifting. "You did great, kid. I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion, wrapping around you like a warm embrace on a chilly day.

You left the studio with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a buoyant feeling that danced in your chest like a flame ignited by success. The joy radiating off your manager only amplified your triumph, her excitement palpable, like the warm glow of the sun on your skin.

As you slipped into the black SUV parked outside, a smile crept onto your face, blossoming with every heartbeat. The vehicle felt like a cocoon, enveloping you in a new sense of pride, a sanctuary that held the promise of new beginnings.

Your manager, brimming with enthusiasm, quickly dialed your agency, her voice animated as she relayed the news of your audition triumph. You could hear her words spill forth like a rushing river, each syllable a testament to your hard work and dedication.

As you absorbed your newfound outlook on life, the sunny L.A. sky seemed to sparkle with an ethereal clarity, its azure expanse stretching endlessly above you like an artist’s canvas, brushed with hues of hope and possibility. The golden rays cascaded down, bathing the city in a warm embrace, each glimmer igniting your spirit as if the universe itself were celebrating your triumph alongside you. In that moment, it felt as though no force on earth could disrupt the intoxicating high that enveloped you, each breath filled with the sweet essence of achievement.

"You better get ready for tonight, 'cause we are celebrating on me!" your manager exclaimed, her voice a jubilant melody that danced through the air, weaving joy into the fabric of the day. Her enthusiasm sparkled like champagne bubbles, promising an evening alive with laughter and camaraderie.

With a smile stretching across your face, you realized that this was just the beginning. The night was a canvas yet to be painted, and you were the artist, ready to fill it with laughter, joy, and new memories.

And in that instant, you understood: you were no longer the girl who had once doubted herself. You were a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace every opportunity that lay ahead. The chapter of uncertainty had closed, making way for a new narrative, one filled with passion, courage, and the promise of dreams finally taking flight.

And maybe even something more.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #drew #drew starkey x y/n #obx 4 #obx fic #rafe obx

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cthulhus-curse · 3 months ago

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What To Expect When You're Expecting

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 11,175

Warnings: Angst, Degradation, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Other, Pregnancy, Reader has a Penis, Smut | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Wanda’s pregnancy is a journey you’d never let her transverse by herself, so through every little moments of it, you are there by her side holding her hand whether good or bad moments ensue.

Wide, hazy green eyes flickered over the small stick beneath them. They tried to make sense of it, to find an explanation for it, among the others scattered in the room that shared similar results. Teeth grabbed her bottom, chapped lip in their grasp. They dug themselves deep enough to draw small bits of blood, but nothing was enough to avert her gaze away – away from the two lines that showed a positive result that other tests shared.

After her period had been late and a mysterious sickness overtook her each morning with a heightened sensitivity for certain smells, Wanda knew to rush to the store and buy enough pregnancy tests to get concise results. She waited patiently, and when they all came about with the similar conclusion, her giddiness soon turned to dread. Surely she hadn’t been careful, the point had always been for her to reach such a place after months of discussing it with you, and yet it was impossible to rid herself of the tight knot forming in her chest. Once again, she had to duck as she threw up, and the tears in her eyes were from both excitement and fear.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Stuck in her trance, Wanda barely took in the words as you passed through the front door. She cleaned her mouth, and while standing gripping the bathroom sink, she couldn’t help but look up at herself. Her breathing was ragged, surely her sudden anxiety making the most of the situation. Previously she had been ready, even joyous, to find such a result, but when reality came about, Wanda nearly ran from the responsibility of it all.

“Hey, where are you? You’re not gonna believe what happed to Jen at work. We were walking to get lunch and she tri- Wanda?” Your voice grew louder the closer you got. Soon enough you stood in the middle of your shared bedroom inside a seemingly empty house – apart from the light peeking from under the bathroom door that was. Frowning, you carefully stood before it and lightly knocked. “Wanda, are you in there?”

There came no response as Wanda grew lightheaded. She could feel her knees beginning to give out as her thoughts went blank, all except for that small twinge of insecurity that made its way across her mind. You’re not good enough, it said. And as she fell against the floor, her backside stinging, a feeling that mirrored the tears cascading down her face, Wanda believed it.

“Baby? Is this…” You didn’t want to assume, but based on previous experiences, you posed the question. “Did you get your period? I can go get your heating pad and put on a sitcom while I run to the store and get you some chocolate. Oh, I can even make you those salted caramel banana pancakes you like and get you some meds for the pain.” All you received as a reply was a choke sob, and although it could be nothing, you wouldn’t dare take a chance. “Shit, that’s not good,” you mumbled before trying the door handle again. “Honey, I’m coming in!”

A mental note was made for you to remind yourself to repair the door after you used all your strength to crack it open. Hissing, you stared down at the broken lock, but alas, that was not your focus. Instead you went to Wanda’s aid, and as soon as you saw her sitting in the corner of the bathroom so disheveled and finding it difficult to catch her breath, you were on your knees before her.

Your hands clutched Wanda’s shaky ones. They squeezed tight to signify your appearance, to show your wife that she was there, that she was safe with you. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against her clammy forehead and left them there as you pulled her close to you. Even in her highly frightened state, she knew to throw herself onto you and allow herself to be comforted.

“Shh you’re safe, sweetheart. You’re right here at home safe in my arms. See?” You accented your words by running your hand up and down her arm, and cupping her face, cleaning up tears, so she could feel you. “You’re safe, Wanda.”

Minutes passed until she could finally catch her breath. Wanda cried out loud, but the sounds were muffled by your chest as she nuzzled against. Ever since you had met her, she dealt with extreme bouts of anxiety that left her frozen. Quickly you learned to comfort her during those times, but it was rare for Wanda to exhibit such feelings after a long time of being fine.

She was still shaky and her sight seemed unfocused, but once she stopped crying, Wanda finally spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh?” You frowned as your brain rummaged to take in the words and make sense of them. It had been months of non-stop work to get to that point, so as soon as you registered them, your eyes widened. “Oh!”

“They’re all…” Wanda exhaustively looked around the bathroom, nudging a pregnancy test with her hand to show you. “They’re all positive. I know this is what we’ve been trying for, but I’m scared. I can’t do this, Y/N?”

“How come? You’re the most capable and confident woman I know,” you mumbled as you brushed wild strands of red away from Wanda’s face. “You’ll be a great mother, Wanda. That little peanut would be lucky to have you as a mom, if that’s what you still want.”

Wanda knew it to be true, and although she would always have the option to not go through with the pregnancy, the thought of having a small kid running around the house made her smile before her thoughts turned sour. “But what if something happens to me or you like it happened to…them?”

The crash had occurred during your childhood. You knew Wanda then, and as soon as you heard of your parents getting into an accident, your blood turned cold. You were only kids during that time. Back then you didn’t stop crying whenever the slightest mention of your parents came about, and it was up to both Wanda and Pietro, their family as well, to comfort the lonely orphan they left behind. Although you didn’t dare bring up your parents much, it surely had been something you gave thought you when trying for a child.

“That’s not going to happen, honey. I promise,” you reassured her. “Plus, I’d do anything to keep you safe. I won’t let anything happen to you or to myself, okay? Not under my watch.”

“Thank you,” Wanda stuttered out weakly. “I, uhm, I know I’m showing the exact opposite, but I’m really happy right now.”

There was nothing for you to feel, but as you dragged a hand to Wanda’s stomach, one of her own subsequently flying to yours, your heart skipped a beat. “Me too, baby.”

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During the first trimester you were focused entirely on educating yourself about the baby on the way. Wanda had gone to see Dr. Harkness, a friend of hers at that, who only gave more certainty to the pregnancy. She hissed the first time the gel was squirted onto her belly as a wand soon came to pass over it. The six weeks mark passed, and an entire month after you two had found out was finally met.

“Well that’s definitely a fetus in there,” Agatha hummed as she stared at the screen. She left the wand unmoving, turning to a laying Wanda for you and her to see the screen. There was barely anything there but a small circle she deemed as the baby. “Everything looks fine. The little bugger is about the size of a sweet pea right about now. You see that blob right there?” Agatha pointed at the circle. “That’s your baby.”

“Our baby,” Wanda repeated with adoration. She clung to your hand and stared up at you with glowing eyes that drifted down to her abdomen. “Can you believe it, honey? That’s our kid.”

“That’s a pretty cool blob,” you settled for laughing at the sight of it, which only earned you a light slap for your wife. “But yeah, that’s our sweet pea.”

“Sweet peas,” Agatha casually corrected.

The room went silent as she uttered her words and kept staring at the screen that showed off a second blob. You and Wanda stared at it, then at each other, all before returning to the screen. Surely the idea of having a child was solidified in your minds and you were ready for what was to come, but never did you expect to find out you were having two at once.

“Come again?” You sputtered with fear. “Sweet peas?”

“It looks like you’re having twins. It should show up better during your next ultrasound, but from what I can see, those are two fetuses growing in there,” Agatha said with the utmost calmness. “Thank god I only got stuck with one. Between Kate and the newborn, I have been stuck taking care of two kids as it is.”

Neither nor Wanda were awaiting to find out you were having twins. As you found out, the rest of the appointment went quiet. Even when you scheduled the follow-up, Wanda squeezed your hand for dear life and nodded dumbly when the dates were given to her. You waltzed to the car in a haze, and as soon as you entered, Wanda didn’t care to start the car.

“Twins,” was all she said in defeat.

Gulping, you nodded with a blank stare. “Yup, twins.”

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While keeping up with her changing hormones, you were always there by Wanda’s side. Whether it was to hold her hair up as she puked or even ridding yourself of smells that made her nauseated, you were unable to leave her as it was. She needed you the same way you needed her. Especially in her state, you refused to leave her alone.

So it was a no-brainer when you met Wanda’s urges…all of them.

“How do I look? I feel a bit stupid,” Wanda grumbled as she stood by the door frame exiting the bathroom. She gazed down at her body and cringed slightly. Her breasts had already increased in size slightly, something she knew had your mouth watering in secrecy. Surely she’d be excited for such a feat if it wasn’t for the soreness she felt upon them. Sighing, she watched as they were clothed in frilly fabric before eyeing the skirt that barely covered her thighs. “Don’t you think it’s…too much? I know we’ve done more before, but I don’t think I look great.”

You knew Wanda was talking to you, but you were unable to register the words as your eyes nearly boggled out of your head. Regardless of her insecurities, you settled then that she was absolutely glorious while wearing the outfit you got her. It was one that mirrored that of a maid with a little band over her head and even thigh-high socks to match. Surely when you bought it Wanda hadn’t been pregnant, but it made her appear more delicious as her body begged to break free from the tight dress.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” you grunted. With a mind of its own, all nude sitting at the edge of the bed, your cock twitched. You gulped down with embarrassment, but the flush over your cheeks was enough to help Wanda relax with amusement. “I, uhm, I really like it.”

Raising her eyebrows, Wanda scoffed. “Yeah? Perv.”

“You’re the one that agreed to it!” You exasperated back as Wanda made her way towards you, her hips swaying even more than usual as her breasts threatened to spill out of the confines of the dress. “I didn’t mind if you picked out the cow outfit, the princess one, or even the cat ears.”

“A cow?” She stood before you with arms crossed. Her gaze averted itself to the harness between your legs. “But I wouldn’t be the one getting milked, sweetheart. Shouldn’t you be my little cow?”

“Not when you’re my whore of a maid,” you confidently said, but immediately regretted your words. “Sorry, was that too much? I know you said you’d like it but I don’t know how to be mean to you. Guess I just love you a lot.”

The head tilt she gave you was a trademark move of her. “If you love me then you should treat me like a whore, baby. We can take it slow if you’d like. Hm, maybe do a little bit more roleplaying. Wouldn’t you like that, master?”

Wanda’s hand grazed your hard cock, and for a moment time stopped. No matter how many years you had spent by each other’s sides, you still melted as you did the first time she touched you. There was no denying your adoration for her. Wanda was everything you wanted and more. The simplest movement caused you to moan and throw your head back, while she smiled watching you intently.

“R-roleplaying?”

“That’s right. Lay back for me, honey,” she pushed you onto the bed before taking her rightful place on top of you. “Today is all about me cleaning up the mess I caused. I made you this hard and sticky, huh?” Wanda questioned in awe as she gripped your dick. “Maybe some other time you can film us while fucking me. We can pretend I love posting videos online and slutting myself out for the world to see, and you’re the little pervert that makes me. Fuck, I want you in control so bad. As much as I love making you squirm, I just need you to blow off all your steam on me while I…” she leaned in dangerously close. “Blow something else.”

“Oh my god,” you whined as you felt the tip of your member being brushed against Wanda’s slick, throbbing center. Her words made your skin burn bright red while she lit it aflame. It was impossible to resist her, but even more so in her pregnant state that made her glow further. “I- just wait a second.”

Wanda knitted her eyebrows together as you hastily reached out to the nightstand. She was even more confused when you retrieved a small packet. Knowing what it was fueled her innocence. Watching you tear it open was just the last straw she needed to break out.

“Wha- what are you doing?”

You shrugged, sharing a similar amount of doubt with her. “I’m…putting on a condom?”

“Why? You can’t get me more pregnant than I already am,” her laughter made you feel embarrassed, but you knew she had a point.

“Well, I just thought it would be safer to-”

“Y/N, you have about five seconds to put yourself inside of me before I make you,” Wanda grumbled. Her hand reached out for the condom you tried to tear open, only to grab it and throw it over her head. Neither cared where it landed. Not when she slowly pulled herself away from you and teased her way out. “Five, four, three, two…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Your hardened length was grabbed and lied up against her gaping hole. Pulling up her skirt, you were met with the glorious sight of her shaven pussy. It made it easy to see her juices running down her inner thighs and hear the sloshing sounds of her pussy as you rubbed against it. With a nod from Wanda, you very slowly pushed your way inside, almost erupting immediately as you clung to her hips for support.

“There you go,” Wanda whimpered with feigned confidence. “Oh f- fuck baby!”

No matter how many times Wanda had you inside her, she simply couldn’t grow tired of it. Her velvety walls clung to your cock for dear life. They welcomed you with a tight hug that made it impossible for her to descend further on you. It was then up to you to hold her in place and gently push yourself to her depths.

“Is that good?” You knew she wanted more, so you gave it to her. Even if your bottom lip was gnawed by your teeth, you wanted your wife to enjoy herself. “You fucking slut.”

“Your slut,” Wanda echoed with a sudden thrill dripping from her voice. “I love it so much, master. You spoil me, always making me feel so good.”

“Well, it’s your job to clean this mess up,” you explained as you found a steady rhythm. Your eyes were glued to her pussy where your cock was deeply nestled inside. It wasn’t hard to see how you disappeared inside Wanda, feeling as your balls slapped against her skin letting out a mouth-watering sound. “I don’t give a fuck about how it makes you feel. You’re my property, meaning you should be focused on making your master feel better. You wouldn’t want me to find a better maid to help me out with my not-so-little problem, would you?”

“No!”

The two of you always discussed the scenes previously. Wanda held your hand as she told you exactly what you wanted. Although she knew you were apprehensive about potentially hurting her feelings, she promised it would do the exact opposite. Being made to feel like nothing turned her on to no end. As an alternative she said you could use a paddle on her, one that you used only a handful of times. Surely hurting her made you feel aroused as well, but with her being pregnant you hesitated to be too much.

When she was on top of you bouncing like the perfect maid, all those thoughts subsided. She swallowed your dick as though it was meant to be. You were her owner, and Wanda, as she begged to be, was your dumb property. Grabbing the neckline of her dress, one that barely covered her breasts, you strongly tugged at it.

Her tits poured out of the torn fabric making you even more motivated to ram her. Your hands curiously grabbed both of them, ensuring to squeeze them tenderly so as to not hurt your lover who pushed them closer to you. Rosy erect nipples were swirled before being pinched enough to draw a scream from the depths of Wanda’s throat. You loved hearing her, but more so if the entire neighborhood was well-aware of how you took her.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” you grunted. The deeper you went, the closer you got to your tip pressing against her sweetest spongy spot that always made her cum when repeatedly stimulated. “You like that? I bet you do. You’re nothing but a stupid cumrag for me to use. A fleshlight can do the same fucking thing you can, but you can’t shut up, huh? Go on, show the neighbors just how good your master fucks you. I bet they all know by now what a dumb cumrag of a maid you are by now.”

Never had you gone so far with your degrading verbiage. Most of the time you kept to sweet praises. Seeing Wanda smile beneath you as you worshiped her body was enough. You didn’t even need release, but instead to spoil your partner as she wished. Now that she had many different thoughts about what could be done to her, you’d humor her ideas until the end of time.

“Baby I’m so fucking close,” Wanda broke out of character for only a few seconds, but you wouldn’t fault her for that. She desperately jumped up and down your dick as she begged you to ruin her for anyone else. From the dress that was tugged up, you could practically see the outline of your penis even through her appetizing stomach rolls you’d often kiss before eating her out. “Ah! Y/N!”

Using all your strength, you made quick work to flip her over so she’d be laying on her back while you rammed her from above. Wanda hugged you close, and as drunk in lust as she was, she still found time to giggle when your face buried itself between her tits. That sound immediately died in her lips when you gave her something to cry out about.

The moment Wanda came, you did so as well. Her pussy was unbelievably tight and it gripped you with an immense force you simply couldn’t get anywhere else – not even with the beloved fleshlights she’d gotten you. Your balls hit her skin as you were close enough to merely ghost in the slightest bit at her swollen clit.

As Wanda rode out her orgasm, you stuffed her to the brim with your own seed. You didn’t remember the last time you came so much. Still, it was nothing compared to the desperation you had felt on the night you conceived after a rather wild time at her friend’s birthday party when you returned home to claw at one another. The woman had begged you for months to fill her up “nice and good” as she said, and although you had been successful in your chore, you simply couldn’t shake that feeling away.

Even when the two of you were spent, your tongue stuck out and licking at her sore breasts and nipples, you were still balls-deep inside of her. “That was…fuck.” It was impossible to find the proper words to describe such achieved pleasures. “It was amazing.”

Wanda allowed you to nuzzle your face and almost suffocate yourself on the valley of her breasts. “You really outdid yourself, master,” she chuckled. “But I do think it’s time for me to do a better job at cleaning, with my mouth at that, sweetheart.”

That night neither of you found the strength to do anything else but devour one another. Wanda’s hormones grew, but so did you desire for her. Even later in the shower you were unable to keep your hands off her in your exhausted state, eventually falling asleep hugging her tightly. With her by your side, it was a wonder how you got anything done.

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“You know, I’ve been doing some reading…”

Although more words were spoken, you simply couldn’t help but involuntarily ignore them. There came enough stress once the first trimester was out of the way. The monthly appointments with Wanda’s doctor helped relieve some of it. Agatha was kind enough to reassure you two that although pregnancy with twins was not a walk in the park, that you’d do well. But alas, that did not soothe the anxieties you felt over telling her parents. During the beginning of the second trimester Wanda decided to tell them, and she wanted you to be there for it.

Oleg and Irina weren’t bad people whatsoever. During your childhood once your parents passed, they were the ones who were always there by your side when your grandparents took you in. If anything were the surrogates of what you lost in the beginning, guardians who’d ensure you’d never be harmed. Even when you and Wanda became open about your relationship, nothing changed. They still loved you, and yet you sought out their approval enough to fear anything other than that.

“...and then Peggy actually ate her placenta. She told me all about it while I was eating lunch and I’ve never felt sicker. Apparently it tastes really good, but I wouldn’t be able to do it,” Wanda carried on. It was only the end that you barely listened to, and were far too confused to ask her to explain herself again. “I can’t imagine walking out of the hospital with your placenta in a bag. Do you think they drain the blood? I mean, I assume you do. Does it count as meant or…Y/N? Are you listening to me, honey?”

“Yeah, that’s awesome. Sounds great,” you absentmindedly replied. Your eyes were on the clock stuck to the wall counting down the minutes until her family arrived as you did your best to add the finishing details to the meal you had cooked together – meaning only you did the work while Wanda stood back and attempted not to puke at all the strong smells.

“So you want to eat my placentas?” Wanda asked with raised eyebrows. That made you turn to her with bewilderment-stricken features. Waltzing towards you, Wanda pressed her front against your back. Her chin rested on your shoulder with arms that quickly wrapped themselves around you. “What’s wrong, baby? You’re so tense.”

“I’m so scared to tell your parents,” you shuddered. “What if your mom thinks I’m no good for you? Or if your dad doesn’t want me seeing you any longer?”

“Sweetheart, we’re not high schoolers anymore. My dad walked me down the aisle on our wedding day and gave me off to you. I don’t think he’s going to try to get us divorced,” Wanda chuckled against your ear. “Besides, he’ll miss his bowling buddy. You know what happened the last time he tried replacing you with Pietro when we were on our honeymoon.”

The clear image of the picture Irina had sent you and Wanda of that night still made you laugh. Pietro had been smart enough to throw, not slide, the bowling ball hard enough that it went to another lane and proceeded to smash itself against the bar covering the pins. Oleg would never let his son live it down and reassured his son it was best to stick to his career as a football player than anything else, something which Pietro agreed with. They all loved you, you knew that much, and when you took Wanda’s last name, becoming a Maximoff yourself, you turned into one of the family.

“Don’t overwhelm yourself, my love,” she reassured you lovingly with a peck on the cheek. “They love you so much, and so do I. I bet they’ll be so excited to know we got two little peanuts on the way. Now, let me finish this up and go get ready. They’ll be here any second.

Surely enough as soon as you descended the stairs and made your way into the dining room, Wanda’s family already sat there. Your wife had been kind enough to put out the food she finished cooking. Waving at her parents and her brother, you attempted to dim down your anxious thoughts as you pulled out Wanda’s seat, allowed her to sit, and then did the same for your own.

Towards the beginning you were a frozen mess. You couldn’t stop thinking of the worst-case scenario. Rationality was thrown out the window as within your peripheral view you could take sight of the tiniest sign of Wanda’s bump showing. Gulping down the knot forming on your throat, you began bouncing your leg.

“So, what was so important that you just couldn’t tell us over the phone?” Pietro questioned as he immediately dug into his paprikash chicken. “You know, I had to miss practice just to travel down from the city. You better be pregnant or something.”

As soon as he finished speaking, you were chugging down a whole bunch of water. Rather than spit it all out, you swallowed with wide, fearful eyes, only sputtering out tiny drops as you hid your face away in embarrassment. Wanda did her best to keep her smile suppressed, but it was impossible to do so as your torture was her amusement.

“Actually…” she reached out for your clammy hand and squeezed it. “I am pregnant, twelve weeks!”

“Twelve? And you’re only telling us now?” Oleg sounded hurt, but it was nothing compared to Irina’s beam of excitement. If Pietro wouldn’t give her grandchildren, she trusted her daughter would. “You’re almost halfway there by now! How did this happen?”

At that your eyebrows were furrowed, but you decided to answer his bizarre question nonetheless. “Well, sir, when two people love each other they-”

Wanda wasted no time in slapping your arm hard enough to nearly make Pietro choke on his food out of the hilarity of it all. Her parents frowned, but all your wife did was flash them a smile as her hand dropped to your lap. The last thing she wanted was for you to dread having experienced such humiliation even more.

“Sorry, papa. Y/N and I really wanted to tell you, but I got scared. It’s so new to us and we wanted to make sure nothing would…happen.” Her voice was shaky, and you knew exactly what she referenced. It wasn’t the first time you had gotten the news of her pregnancy. Back then the two of you had been fresh out of high school, just two dumb kids going about life without precaution. Both were scared yet thrilled at the idea of having a child as you went to college, but that only lasted for a few months up until Wanda was awoken by a searing pain and a pool of blood gushing down her legs. It was the worst year of your shared lives, and from then on you made sure to not only protect her body, but also her mind and heart. “We wanted to be sure, that’s all.”

He wasn’t upset, but Wanda knew her father loved being involved in her life. They sat in silence for a second awaiting his reply only for Oleg to show off his excitement. He congratulated the two of you, making sure to run to the other side of the table to wrap his daughter up in a hug. Just as they had cherished you as a child, they’d do the same to the twins on the way.

The remainder of dinner went by smoothly, but just as you began relaxing, Wanda made you tense more. Her dominant hand moved around your lap until it eventually went to cup your soft penis through your pants. It rubbed you up and down, gripping only slightly as you let out a stifled grunt. And yet your wife was unfazed, smiling even as she used her free hand to take a sip of her water.

“Doesn’t that make you feel better?” Wanda allowed herself to lean onto you far enough so her whispers were unheard by the others. “All you need is some…released. If you behave for the rest of dinner,” her eyes looked down at your growing bulge where a small pool of wetness began forming through your briefs and slacks. Slapping you gently, she hummed. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you want. You can even take me from behind just how you like it, baby. I’ll be a good girl only if you are good as well. Remember that.”

You couldn’t stop counting down the minutes until Wanda’s family left, and as soon as they did, you were pleased with what she had to offer you. While insatiable, your wife loved putting your needs above her own. After all, getting on her knees and looking up at you as she pleased you was one of her favorite things.

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Around week 16, according to the calendar you set up on your cubicle at work, Wanda began showing even more. Her flat stomach was adorably swollen. Often she’d stare into the mirror and grimace at what she saw after stepping out of the shower, but you bore holes into her body with your insistent stares. Maybe she didn’t believe it, but the further into her pregnancy Wanda got, the more you lusted after her.

When she was at work and you were left to go into your shifts from home, thankful to be part of the IT department at a law firm, you took care of yourself. Your growing appetite for Wanda made it impossible for her to keep up with you, you mused. So instead you settled on doing what she did for you, although it never did feel the same.

Sitting with your back pressed against the headboard, you groaned. You had poured enough lubricant onto your cock to get it all nice and shiny before doing the same with a clear fleshlight. Wanda was an avid lover of it. She’d watch in awe, sometimes even move it herself, as your cock was enveloped by the sweet material. It was impossible for her to not grow incredibly wet at the sight.

“Fuck,” you mumbled into the nothingness of the room. Your laptop was open right on the bed with the program from work ready in case you needed to watch over it further. It didn’t faze you though. You still guided your thick, hard cock to one of the openings of the fleshlight and lined yourself up perfectly.

The warmth that enveloped your dick was nowhere near as delicious as it was when Wanda was around, but it would have to do. You took your time with her, but not when you were alone. Rather than care about how much pain you exerted on the toy, as you’d do with your wife, you let yourself go.

Animalistic thrusts came about as you focused solely on jacking off. It felt so good to be rough and uncarity. With one hand you held the fleshlight in place while the other went down to carefully massage your balls, prodding them with adoration as you imagined it was Wanda touching you.

Fucking the fleshlight, you longed for it to be Wanda’s pussy. She was always so drenched and ready for you, making it easier to slip inside without any issues. Getting her pregnant was just the tip of the iceberg. It was what made all of your desires spill out of Pandora’s Box. Every single sick, perverted thought you had, you humored. And knowing your partner, you knew she’d happily indulge you without a question asked.

Deciding to tease your wife, you reached out for your phone. The camera was pointed at the toy where your dick disappeared into, and as you got it on video, you smiled. Wanda loved nothing more than to watch you masturbate. At times she simply sat back to look at how you made yourself come undone. You’d be desperate yet confident in your thrust as she knew you pretended to be fucking her.

“Fuck, baby. I miss your pussy,” you let out a guttural moan from Wanda to enjoy. The wet, sloshing sound of the fleshlight being masterfully fucked was all she’d hear. “This is how I’m fucking you as soon as you get home. I bet your pussy’s gonna be so wet and ready for me. ‘M gonna get you to beg for this cock, slut.”

For the past few weeks the two of you further explored Wanda’s insistent desire to be degraded. Not only did she want such vile words to be spewed her way, but also to be treated as though she was nothing more than a toy for your amusement. You could claim her whenever you saw fit. While you loved the idea, it would take a lot more coaxing from her part to make it happen.

Sending off the short video, you kept up the slapping sounds even when you got the receipt that Wanda saw it. You could already imagine how she’d excuse herself from her cubicle and run off to the bathroom in a haze. Her mind always felt too cloudy when she was turned on, and once she came it all turned blank.

In only a matter of minutes, you received back an image of her wetness through her panties with a caption reading “for you, my favorite perv.” Two could play that game, you thought after having saved the image – Wanda knew full well you stared at the little folder of herself that you had in the depths of your phone. You each sent the other numerous pictures and videos, with Wanda showing you exactly how drenched she was at the thought of you, and how heavy her breasts appeared. It was the sight of that alongside her swollen tummy that made you cum all over your own stomach, her name coming out choked from your lips.

“Can’t wait to see what you have planned for me at home,” Wanda texted as she saw the image of the cumshot you sent her. “I’ll be ready for you, Y/N.”

And as much as you hated to admit it, a sole text like that made you fully hard once more.

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“Baby, I’m hungry!”

You mused that was your Bat-signal as it made you instantly rush to Wanda’s side. For the past few weeks after her ultrasound, where she was able to receive a much clear picture of the twin babies growing inside of her, she’d been rather…glued to the couch. Her feet were sore along with her back, and although Pietro constantly wondered why his sister refused to visit him in the city with a huff, you couldn’t imagine the amount of discomfort she felt with not one, but two lives forming within her.

“What do you wanna eat for lunch, pretty girl?” You asked as you took a seat next to the couch that you might as well call Wanda’s. She lay watching yet yet another rerun of Superstore, giggling away as she remembered the time the two of you shared as teenagers working at a rather large chain retail store. “I can make you some mac & cheese or even order a pizza and-”

“I’m really hungry,” Wanda interjected, nudging you a bit with her leg. “Burger-type of hungry…with fries.”

“I’ll go get you a burger right now then. Anything else you’d like since I’ll be out?”

Wanda gave it some thought, and after enough time she settled for texting you a list of things to pick up from the grocery store. Lazy weekends were her favorite. During the week she attempted to keep busy by doing yoga in the morning or pulling you out of bed to run across the neighborhood, shower, then go to work. Your wife said she wished to be active, but deep down you knew it had something to do with her changing appearance. No longer was she as slim as she used to be with the bigger her bump grew. While she found problems with that, each day you reassured Wanda without fail that her beauty never left.

Knowing Wanda’s appetite would only evolve for the worst. You ran across the grocery store and zoomed by her favorite fast food restaurant to pick up her food, getting something for yourself as well as you knew your own hunger would give you a headache. Each time you went out without her, you felt a newfound fear stirring the pot. Surely she’d be safe and fine, and yet you couldn’t help but think kf the worst. What if the twins didn’t make it? Or Wanda at that? You wouldn’t know how to properly function if either were to happen.

You had already lost a little peanut once. Although she hid it well, you were fully aware of the ultrasound picture Wanda hid underneath the pillow on her side of the bed. The back of it had excited scribbles from the both of you. Back then life was anything but great, and yet that surprise had made you realize it was worth living it together. She carried that picture everywhere, even to work, but once she received the news, Wanda didn’t dare let it leave the safety of her home.

The torturous image of Wanda shaking you awake desperately, tears in her bloodshot eyes that cascaded down furious cheeks, covered in blood still haunted you at night. She let out incoherent babbles then as you turned on the light and took sight of the mess on the bed. The pain she felt had been constant for days along with the bleeding, but it never got as intense as it did on that cruel night of May 14. You ran with Wanda to the hospital, her hands clutching a small bunny your friend Peter had given you when he found out about the pregnancy. Neither of you were the same after that, nor did you care to be.

Clutching your steering wheel, you blinked rapidly. The flashbacks hit like a brick as you made your way back home. You could already feel your chest beginning to tighten, and while uncaring about any traffic laws, you sped towards Wanda.

Upon arriving at the house, you hastily gathered all the bags before running to the door. They were thrown over the floor, alerting a rather groggy Wanda who had fallen asleep on the couch. She sat up slightly with half-open eyes and furrowed eyebrows wondering why you rushed to her, but as soon as she noticed the tears in your eyes, she was on alert.

“Baby? Oh honey what happened?” Wanda was taken aback when she sat up at the edge of the couch only for you to kneel before her. She simply lay a hand atop your head, tilting her own as you hugged her tightly with your face buried against her belly. “Hey, you’re alright, Y/N. I’m right here.” You barely nodded, something that made her smile sadly because at least you could understand her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I need them to make it,” you choked out with your forehead pressed with Wanda’s bump. “I…I need it to happen.”

That only confused Wanda even more. “Who needs to make it?” But realization dawned upon her instantly. “Wh- oh.”

Your shaky hands took hold of her stomach that you pressed countless kisses against. “I miss our little girl — our Magnolia.”

By the time she was gone, neither of you picked a name until it was too late. It was Wanda who settled on it while remembering through tears that when you were children, that was the first ever flower you gave her. Each year on the anniversary, on what would’ve been her birthday, you made sure to give your wife another one. Those were the ones she wore on her head on your wedding day. Whether physically or not, your forever little peanut would always be there with you.

“I miss her too,” Wanda admitted solemnly. She always wanted a little girl, someone who mirrored her in every way. You and her would lay watching the sunset imagining how your futures would turn out. Wanda was rather excited about the concept of braiding the girl’s hair for her first day of school that you’d drive her to together, but it never came. “But our boys are healthy, they’ll make it. T-they be safe, honey. They have to be.”

As teary-eyed as you were, you couldn’t help but stop to question her. “Our…boys?”

“Don’t be mad. Agatha called a few days ago and I told her you’d want it to be a surprise, but that I couldn’t wait. I’ve been eyeing some things for them too,” Wanda shrugged. She leaned down far enough to be able to place a kiss on your forehead before cupping your face. “We’re having twin boys.”

“That’s amazing!” You exasperated with sudden joy. Your hands went to touch her stomach, overzealous at the idea of having boys, but then again, you never did hope for one or the other. As you rubbed your hands all over her clothes skin, that is when you first felt it. “Was that…a kick?”

Wanda was unfazed as she had felt it before during her previous attempt, but still giggled. “I think the little buggers can tell mama is hungry and so are they. As much as I’d love to sit here and have a heart-to-heart with you, baby, I really am starving over here.”

You went to give Wanda her food, and while the two of you sat on the couch eating your lunch, you realized once more how lucky you were to have her by your side until death do you apart.

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Early during Wanda’s third trimester, you were even more in need of her; it surely didn’t help that she got bigger and liquid sprouted from her breasts. You didn’t say much, instead opting to remain quiet and keep your perversions to yourself out of fear of being judged. Your wife was fairly open to whatever you wished to explore, but you doubted she’d be keen to the idea of you suckling from her tender nipples.

From afar you watch her fall into the pits of pain. At times she’d beg you to help her gently massage herself, throwing her head back in relief as the harshness of the built-up milt in her tits was gone. Each time they grew heavy, you were to offer helping hands and allow your partner to feel better. Only your guilt and shame grew during those moments. You stared in depth at the mounts, watching in awe as liquid traveled down their bulkiness before Wanda went to clean herself up. Agatha reassured the two of you that it was normal, but that didn’t deter her suffering during those moments.

“Between the kicking and the soreness, I don’t think I can make it,” Wanda hissed on a particular day where her breasts made it impossible for her to carry on. She had come back from work complaining about the pain she was in, instantly laying across the couch rubbing her hands against her stomach. “You know I love my boys, I really do, but I’m pretty sure at this point Tommy will be a football player just like his uncle,” her face scrunched up momentarily as she clutched her bump. “And Billy thinks he can kick his way out of this earlier than he’s supposed to.”

“Is there anything I can do?” You felt for her, you really did. The sole image of her facing such horrors made you shudder. You couldn’t imagine having to experience that, so as you set a hand atop Wanda’s swollen tummy, you hoped the twins would settle down for once. “I can get your heating pad or maybe make you some comfort food? Anything I should go out to get you?”

“Just stay with me, please,” Wanda cried as she put her hand above yours. “I don’t even want to imagine how horrible it’ll be when I popped these little shits out.” As soon as she spit out the words, a kick came. “Fuck, sorry boys. You’re not little shits,” she went to mumble under her breath. “Sometimes.”

“Just a few more months, honey. You’re more than halfway there,” you cooed at her. Leaning in, you pulled her shirt only slightly to be able to press your lips upon her skin. “Our peanuts will be here soon. Our Billy and our Tommy.”

“You’re lucky we’re having twins, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you name our kid Billy,” Wanda grumbled with feigned annoyance. It quickly turned into a moan as she arched her back and her hands shot up to her chest that almost throbbed. “Fuck, I’m full. I need them to get out and help me out because otherwise I’m going to start t-”

“What if I help you?”

Wanda frowned at that, wondering what else you could provide other than the glorious massages you were so kind to give her. “Honey, you’ve already helped me enough. There’s nothing you can do unless you’re willing to suck all the milk out of me.”

She meant it as a joke, but the words made your throat dry up. You couldn’t help the burning sensation that settled at your cheeks. A shrug came out before your voice was found. “Maybe…maybe I can? If you’re alright with it,” you choked out while refusing to look at Wanda. “It’s embarrassing, but that’s all I’ve been thinking about as of late. God, Wanda, you’re so fucking gorgeous that I…I can’t contain myself.”

“You’ve gotten off to the thought.”

At the confidence in her words you turned to her ready to form a lie. “I, uhm, haven’t.”

“No, no. That wasn’t a question, honey.” A dry laughter came out, one that allowed you to properly relax as you were consumed by anxious imagery. “I know you do. Honestly? I’ve been dying for you to finally come clean. It was about time, darling. Mommy doesn’t like when you make her wait.”

“Mo- what?” you frowned, confused as to whether or not she found it to be humorous. “You’re not creeped out?”

“Of course not. You’re just a little baby that wants mommy’s milk, huh? A hungry angel,” her voice was sweet and serene. You easily got lost in the devotion you had for her. “Come here, Y/N. I know you’ve been dying to try. So be a good pup and help mommy feel good.”

With shaky hands, you helped Wanda shed her shirt. The knot at your throat wasn’t easily dissuaded, especially not when she stared at you with amused eyes. She guided you on top of her, carefully getting you to lay on your side so you wouldn’t harm her stomach. With lips merely grazing at one of the swollen nipples, you licked your lips and looked up in question at the woman before she nodded your way.

As soon as you latched onto her, your mind went blank. Lips tenderly suckled at the rosy bud before white liquid began descending into your mouth. Your tongue welcomed it, tasting every slight drop as you grunted with need. Wanda tasted amazing in every way imaginable and you simply were unable to get enough of her.

“There’s a good pet,” Wanda tried, but she couldn’t churn away her own arousal. Her arms were wrapped around you the same way yours embraced her. On her thigh she already felt a tent, growing by the second, poking at her with desperation. “Keep going, baby. You’re already making me feel so good.”

Her hand drifted down to the area between your legs with fake innocence, and yet you couldn’t muster any case for it. Instead, you nuzzled your face against Wanda’s breasts still continuing to suck on one. The other, out of fear of leaving it unattended, was massaged. Your thumb swirled around it, making faint drops of milk spew out that you brushed with your finger before bringing it to your mouth.

Kneading her one of her tits made her moan, but you were the one to do so louder as Wanda slipped into your pants. “Help me,” you begged as digits trailed their way along your thick hardened shaft before finding the wetness your pre-cum left. “Please, m-mommy. I need it so bad.”

“Yeah? Oh honey, your dick is all hard and sticky,” Wanda pouted as she jerked you off momentarily. She pressed her lips against your forehead, planting butterfly kisses there as she made quick work to tease your already-throbbing member that you humped against her. “Be a good puppy and drink up all of mommy’s milk. Then maybe we can talk about me milking you instead.”

For the remainder of the night, you didn’t hesitate to do exactly what she said. It ended up being a rather fruitful evening, leaving you full of Wanda’s essence as well as with a fussy mind that was hazy as you came all over the palm of her hand. You felt limp against Wanda, milk drooling out of your lips as she hugged you tightly.

“Such a good little one for mommy,” she whispered to your exhausted body with the utmost love residing in her soul. “My perfect baby.”

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The insatiable nature Wanda had was not easily dissuaded no matter how close she got to giving birth until Agatha put a halt to it. She urged the two of you to be careful and cease any of your typically fun workouts with each other until weeks after the birth of the twins. Although it left your wife pouting all the way to the car knowing she’d need to stop at the very least a few weeks before giving birth, given she carried not one but two lives inside of her, you were the one which upheld the advice given to you by the doctor.

But alas, that didn’t stop either of you from humoring Wanda’s increased sex drive for whatever time you could.

“I want it to be special,” Wanda had told you late one night as she lay exhausted beside you with her head in the clouds. “Let’s make it a night we won’t forget.”

Keeping in mind her words which resonated with you, you made sure to do exactly what your wife wished. Previous talks about several different fantasies came to you, but only one stood out. Surely she’d look ravishing with a schoolgirl outfit being bent over the desk as you spanked her with a meter stick, but you didn’t think it would be safe enough for the moment. From all the possible choices there could only be one that you knew she’d enjoy while remaining unharmed.

Wanda had stared at you incredulously when she first stepped into the room, but as she quickly went to do as you told her, to get on her hands and knees on the bed, the thrill came to her. She hadn’t noticed the camera pointing at the bed until a few minutes passed of you undressing yourself. When you happened upon her suddenly wide smile, your eyebrows were raised.

“So, what do you think?” You questioned knowing what the answer would be already. After days of online shopping, you had finally settled on a beautiful gift to commemorate what Wanda deemed as the last official night of lovemaking before the twins were born. Walking around the bed, you stood before your partner showing off the item in your hands. “I got this for you to wear. I thought it would be fitting.”

“It’s beautiful,” Wanda mumbled, emerald orbs gawking at the pink collar that resided in your hands. She was particularly intrigued by the heart-shaped tag that hung from it with the words ‘pretty girl’ bestowed on it.

“Just like you,” you replied cheekily. Nodding her way, you brought the collar close to the woman. “May I?”

The redhead shuddered at the unfamiliarity of the faux leather around her throat. She giggled happily, looking down as you locked the collar that sat comfortably on her body. It was the perfect fit, and you knew then it would be hard to get it off Wanda without even a smidge of protest.

As the two of you settled into the scene, your bodies relaxed and melted against one another. You couldn’t help but laugh as each second Wanda attempted to steal a quick glance at the area between your legs – already painfully hard and oozing with pre-cum. Your tip slapped accidentally against her legs as you settled behind her, the camera already turned on and began to take video of what was happening.

“Such a pretty girl,” you repeated the words from her collar as your hands came down upon Wanda’s ass, squeezing tightly until your handprints were left behind. “And a fucking slut.”

Each time you dared spew such degrading words, Wanda’s chest would become filled with exhilaration. Not only were her features reddened with her immense arousal, but her pussy appeared flushed with puffiness and slickness. It was impossible to keep yourself from running your fingers through such wetness, much less to prevent yourself from grabbing your erect cock and rubbing its bulging head to part the folds of her slit.

Her guttural moans were low as they banged against the four walls of the bedroom. Already having been cleared for maternity leave, the woman found herself to be both bored and in desperate need of you at all times. Even the slightest touches, a brush of your dick upon her cunt, made her squirm before begging to have you inside – and that is exactly what you gave her.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” you grunted as you eased into Wanda. She was far too wet to cause any difficulty, instead leading you to be enveloped around her gentle warmth. “I bet you like it when I stick my cock in you, huh? You’re nothing but a mindless bitch for my dick. So fucking needy and obsessed.”

“I love it,” Wanda groaned while nuzzling her face against the bed sheets. “I love your cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah?” You tried your best not to let yourself get carried away, but it was impossible when Wanda’s pussy gripped you with such firmness. Suddenly you couldn’t contain your urges as you gripped her hips to begin fucking her with hard thrusts. “It’s like your pussy was only meant to take me. Oh baby you’re fucking dripping like a needy slut in heat. It’s so adorable.”

Wanda’s pleasure wasn’t deterred by the way in which you treated her almost like an object. She knew she was nothing other than a fleshlight of yours to have, and she loved every second of it. You spent the majority of your days constantly praising your wife, but at times she needed to be reminded of her place within scenes. No longer did she care for control, but instead found solace within the warm embrace of forceful submission and objectification.

Your cock was hugged warmly by her inner walls that were stretched out with each time you pounded her. Wanda was forced to stare directly into the camera, her hair pulled as you made her show off her new beautiful collar. Her stomach was swollen, and at times a hand drifted down to cup it before making its way to her sensitive breasts whose nipples perked up when you grazed. The alabaster skin was set aflame and you were the culprit, but your eyes solely remained upon her cunt where your dick disappeared into, hitting Wanda’s sweetest spot and making her scream.

“F-fuck,” your wife stuttered out through gritted teeth. “Oh baby…baby! I’m so close.”

“Then cum, you naughty whore,” you huffed. The sounds of your skins slapping together made for a glorious orchestra. Knowing you were close as well, you gripped Wanda’s waist, humming as you were ready to let go. “Show the camera how much of a cock-addicted bitch you are, Mrs. Maximoff.”

When she came, so did you. Your bodies were synched up and connected as one. The growing arousal one felt carried on to another, and you failed to see how you’d ever let go of such a lustful heat. Wanda squirted, her juices overflowing all over her inner thighs, your twitching cock, and the sheets. Meanwhile her insides were tainted by white drops that stuffed her pussy full of cum, some even leaking out adorably.

Neither of you could move, at least not until you found enough energy to gently slide yourself out of your partner. Her cunt released your dick with a sloshing sound which made you arche in even more need. Gulping down, you teasingly slapped a hand over Wanda’s ass, who turned to sit facing you with her reddened face.

“What a mess,” Wanda giggled as she eyed your throbbing member bouncing excitedly calling for her cunt which oozed out a mix of cum and juices. “Hm, don’t you want me to clean that up, sweetheart? With my mouth?”

Grabbing your still hard cock, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Then get on your knees, pretty girl. And get to sucking.”

For the camera, mostly for you, Wanda put in the utmost amount of effort into entertainment. You sat at the edge of the bed with her kneeled in front of you. The tip of your dick pressed against her cheeks inside her mouth, bulging them up for the camera to see. There was no time wasted as her head bobbed up and down, taking in countless inches of you while you very lovingly guided her through it.

“Such a cute cock sucker,” you couldn’t help but say, all for Wanda to look up with wide, doe eyes before gargling all over your length. “That’s it, baby. I want you to swallow every single drop like the good girl I know you are. Hm, can’t wait until I can fill that pretty pussy of yours with even more pups knowing how needy you get for my dick…”

And by the gods did Wanda deliver.

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When the twins came, all of your anxieties came crashing down into a mixture of a breakdown and hyperventilation. It was night when Wanda’s contractions felt worse, leading the woman to wake you up with a wail as she clutched her stomach painfully. You feared seeing blood between her legs again, but were relieved to find other fluids lying there before rushing to lead her out of the house, go-bag in hand with other necessary trinkets.

Hours passed before any news came. You were to sit by Wanda’s side at every second, holding her hand and remaining uncaring about how much she squeezed it from pain. The twins wanted to get out, you knew, but refused to do so quickly enough. It left your wife in a state of frenzy, her face continuously scrunched up as she begged you, not the nurses, to get the babies out of you – at times even threatening to divorce you if you failed to complete the task.

“These little shi-”

“Wanda,” you calmly interjected. “You know, they’re coming out soon. Imagine the first words you tell our children being those. That’ll do something to their self-esteem, don’t you think?”

The snide look Wanda threw your way was synonymous with that of murder. “Really? Because I doubt they’ll remember the time they almost killed their mom giving her so much- fuck! So much pain,” she hissed. Her teeth gritted against one another, and as she saw a nurse coming to check on her, the redhead scared her off with flaring nostrils. “But I sure as well am remembering this. I can’t wait until they get old enough for me to blackmail them for doing this to me.”

“Well, they didn’t exactly choose to be born,” you mused hoping it would diffuse her anger only for it to be made worse.”

“You…” Wanda paused, eyebrows furrowing as she gave her words some thought. She turned to you, but you refused to even look her in the eye before shriveling up to her mighty hand. “You did this to me. You put not one, but two fucking babies inside of me! Oh Y/N, I’m about to fucking kill y-”

Her words died in her lips as the doctor rushed in. She did more to soothe your wife’s fears, something you were thankful for as being at the receiving end of her rage, even if heightened by her situation, was never taken with positivity. They prepared her to finally push, and that was the moment your eyes flashed before your eyes. Time stood still as the realization panged at your heart. I’m going to be a parent again. My twins, our Billy and our Tommy, they’re coming…

The process by no means was easy to watch, but your empathy was with Wanda who was the one needing to go through all the hard work. Even when covered in sweat and yelling out profanities in the midst of her pain, your wife was forever defined by her beauty. You leaned down to praise her, to remind her of the brave warrior she was for carrying two lives in her at once. There was no one stronger than your partner and you needed her to remember.

Cries of the first baby came out, and you immediately knew that it was your Tommy who went out faster than the speed of light. You shied away from seeing him in the first few seconds, but as soon as you could see the doctor holding up a small, frail child, your eyes widened with love. Tears formed in your eyes, and while they carried on to get Billy out, you were solely focused on the little one that you realized was the picture-perfect image of you as an infant.

Complications ensued in getting Billy out as copious amounts of blood were left in the first twins’ wake. You wondered what went on, but as soon as the doctor mentioned the need for a Cesarean section, your face went pale. Holding down bouts of fear, you faced Wanda, but she was far too high by her torture to care. So as soon as they brought out the necessary instruments to get the second child out, you shuddered.

“It’s okay,” you promised Wanda even as she was put to sleep. The hold on your hand loosened, but you never let go of hers. “It’s okay, honey. Billy’s going to get to meet his mama soon just like Tommy.” You so wanted to believe that, but a small part of you feared for the worst. “You’re going to be okay, Wanda. You both will.”

Nothing could ever prepare you for seeing your wife cut open, but as soon as you noticed a small infant being pulled out, you beamed. The cries let you become aware of his healthy state as a nurse grabbed Billy to give him the same exact treatment. He was checked out before you requested to hold him, all while watching over Tommy. Those were your boys. Not identical, but each one of them mirroring either you or Wanda.

Hours passed before your wife was awakened, and as soon as her eyes fluttered open, she ignored the pain on her lower abdomen from the fresh set of stitches. Instead she scanned the room carefully, humming as her panic died out upon the sight of you still by her side.

“Are they safe?” Wanda groggily questioned, suddenly afraid of what the answer would be. But as soon as you nodded, the exhausted ends of her mouth rose. “Thank you, Y/N. I…I am in so much fucking pain right now, but I’m glad I got you by my side, sweetie.”

“I’m the one that should be thankful for you. I mean, you just gave birth to two kids. I can’t ever imagine going through that,” you replied. “The nurse said that they’ll bring the twins up in a few hours. Billy, uh, looks a lot like a mini-Wanda I have to say. He’s got your nose scrunches and everything down.”

“Really? Oh I can’t wait to see them.” Wanda squeezed your hand once more, but this time you could feel all the love she had for you with a simple electrifying touch. “I wish we got to meet her too.”

At that you merely hummed, but she knew how much you longed for that to have been a reality.

When the time came for you and Wanda to see the twins in a much cleaner, sleepy state, both of you were overcome with joy. She had trouble moving with her fresh wound, so the nurse carefully placed Tommy on her chest while you received a yawning Billy. No words needed to be spoken at that moment. The love you had for your children, even if new, wouldn’t ever die out. They were your lives, and as you shared a knowing look, you both came to be on the same page – nothing would dare intervene with them so long as you were alive.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wlw smut #wlw fanfic

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narnian-neverlander · 4 months ago

Text

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

I’m also very much using a translator for the Czech parts, so please bear with me and absolutely lemme know if you spot anything wrong!

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje lásko, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláčku, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděli. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #arcane season 2 #pretend like it's the first time

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shotmrmiller · 6 months ago

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kinktober: gunplay (ghoap x reader) cw: the tiniest of dub-con if you squint 1.8k of this foolishness and im pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere but in my defense, guns don't interest me

When you wake, you notice that Ghost isn’t in the tent. His bedroll neatly rolled up and put away in its usual spot and by the looks of things, he's been gone for quite some time. You sit up, the morning light filtering through the tent's fabric— the soft, diffused glow creating gentle shadows on the ground.

Outside, the air is crisp and sweet, dew still fresh on the grass, damp beneath your bare feet. Soap's lone mare is tied to the hitching post, tail flicking lazily as she eats off the hay net.

The campsite is quiet except for the chirping of birds and Soap's deep, growling snores coming from behind you. Ghost isn't here. Ghost isn't here. The thought bounces around in your skull, heart loud in your ears as the realization begins to sink in.

You could get away, slip away unnoticed from these two who've kept you as their reluctant companion since they wrangled you up in a rowdy saloon a couple of towns back with your hand deep in someone else's pocket. "Behave and we won't give ya up for the meager bounty yer worth." Or worse. The three of you knew no one would miss you, no family or friends to claim the body if you ended up face down on a riverbank.

It’s now or never. Freedom stands in front of you in a glossy, white coat and a braided mane, but being Soap’s horse, even approaching her will be a gamble. You'll just have to risk getting bucked off and trampled on.

When you go back inside to gather the few belongings you've got, you spot Soap's gun belt in all its worn leather glory lying in a tangled heap in the corner, revolvers still snug in their holsters. He must've gotten in late from town, the reward for the bounty he turned in last night traded in for hooch.

A mistake. His costly mistake. And a chance to ride his mare relatively unharmed. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around the handle, the ingrained symbol digging into your palm as you tighten your grip. You may not be a gunslinger with the fastest draw in the West, but you do know what end to point at someone.

But Soap's a bounty hunter and a damn good one. His reflexes are fast— faster than they should be with his dense, muscular build. You've seen him close gaps with an unnatural speed that’s left even the toughest men reeling. He's a relentless force of pursuit when he wants to be and keeping him at a distance is a losing game, especially when you've no prior experience using a gun. Your only option is to corner him, limit his options. Every man bends the knee to power, and right now, you've got it in your clammy hand.

You straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side of his lower ribs, and press the barrel onto the left side of his jaw. Incredible, not even a hitch in his breathing, as if you're not sitting on him with your full weight. Fisting the front of his union shirt, you tug, the sharp, sudden sting of his chest hair being pulled taut waking him out of his deep sleep.

His bleary eyes snap open, blinking away any traces of sleep within moments, the new day's light catching the edges of his irises, making them gleam with an almost otherworldly brightness as they sweep the tent for any real danger.

Your breathing turns ragged once they land on you, satisfied, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of teeth. Dread claws at your gut, your nerves rattled, but you meet his gaze head-on. There is no room for hesitation, for doubt, not when the man you've got pinned with his own weapon is more touched in the head than Ghost is.

"I ken I'm handsome but all ye ‘ad t'do was ask, hen. I'm achin' fer the hair o' the hound if ye got any, though." His tone gives away nothing, his body completely lax. Even the rise and fall of his chest is steady, slow. You know better than to believe he isn't waiting on you to make the next move to retaliate, so you don't move. Neither of you do.

"You'll take me to town and you'll leave me there. Compared to the other folk you rope up and dump at the Sheriff's feet, I'm worth nothing." You'll make yourself scarce, move to a different state, maybe. A new life, a decent one. Honest work.

His smile widens, the puckered scar on his chin stretching. "Didnae think to take my girl? She's righ' there, saddle 'n all." Soap must think you daft.

"I want to disappear without drawing a target on my head large enough for you to see from across state lines." He would've hunted you down for sport, at that point. Soap blinks once, thrice, and then you have a solid weight pushing on your back, sudden and unexpected, forcing your upper body forward, your shoulders hunching in reflex.

The very familiar scent of earth and mildly ripe sweat sends a shiver licking up your spine, locking every notch firmly into place. Why you hadn't heard him arrive at camp or open the flaps to the tent is now irrelevant. Ghost is here now and you've nowhere to run, definitely not with Soap grabbing onto the soft of your waist, tethers made of human flesh and bone.

The weathered leather of his glove feels unexpectedly soft as his fingers curl around your trembling hand. "If you're gonna threaten ‘im, ya gotta do it proper," he mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, rolling rumble, the kind he takes when calming his panicked horse.

"Easy now, settle down, loosen your arm a little." It does nothing to soothe you, Ghost looming larger than the gun in your grip, making it feel almost insignificant— a mere prop in the face of his overwhelming presence and the voice in your head screams at you to bare your neck, submit, and hope he goes for your jugular quickly, death seemingly a better choice than whatever game he’s making you play. "Open up, Johnny."

He does so readily, a transparent string of saliva stretching between his top and bottom teeth. Ghost's denim-clad thighs bracket yours as he settles comfortably behind you, his barrel chest engulfing the entirety of your back with space to spare.

Soap lies there with his tongue out like a dog on a hot, summer's day, mouth open wide enough for you to see the ridges and grooves of his molars. Ghost forcibly moves your hand, metal scraping against Soap's stubble with a coarse, gritty sound.

“Lie still Johnny, ya hear?” his pointer finger hovering over the trigger. The lump that’s risen to your throat makes breathing hard, each swallow a struggle. You never intended to fire a shot, just hoped the threat of life and death would be enough to make things go your way.

“W-wait,” you gurgle out but Ghost’s hand only tightens around yours.

“Can’t get cold feet now, sweet’eart, not when Soap’s southern blood is pumpin’ ‘cause a you.” His-? You take notice of it then, the rigid swelling between your legs, pushing up into your center. As if to drive the point home, Soap bucks his hips while pulling you down, making the inseam of your pants brush against your pearl.

“Oh-,” he does it again, and again, the leaden lump of dread that had once anchored itself in your belly begins to melt away, becoming an insistent ache that quickens your heartbeat and warms your veins, a mellow heat radiating from your core outward.

And then two things happen at once.

Soap takes the pistol’s barrel into his mouth, slightly pursing his lips as he creates a seal around it, and his cheeks gently hollow as he bobs his head forward and back, and Ghost slowly weaves his unoccupied hand south, under your jeans and underwear, the roughened tips of his fingers quickly finding what you’ve been forced to neglect for months.

Soap grunts, a gravelly resonant sound— rich and full— when you dig your nails into the meat of his chest as Ghost jerks erratic little circles on your puffy clit, sending shockwaves through your stomach, each wave headier than the last.

“Can’t let ‘im ‘ave all the fun, eh?” The pressure on your waist is enough to ache, your flesh already throbbing beneath Soap’s hands, and the closer you get to the precipice, the harder they squeeze.

Metal clacks against tooth every time your body tenses, muscles constrict, unable to keep your arm steady even with Ghost’s iron grip over your own. Soap’s a slobbering mess, spit dribbling down his chin, pistol glossy with it as he sucks on it as if it were a man’s cock instead.

(Maybe he wants it to be.)

A couple of hiccups claw up your throat as the sticky, wet sounds of Soap’s mouth get drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears as you teeter on the sharpened edge, Ghost’s pace on you turning frantic, almost violent, and—

“Keep those pretty eyes on Johnny, he’s been dreamin’ of lookin’ at ya in the face while you come.”

Ghost tossing the gun aside, metal skidding across the floor, and you’re coming apart with Soap’s tongue in your mouth, swallowing your every gasp and moan.

It tastes like the lubricant he uses to clean his gun. Metallic. Tangy. Slightly acrid.

You’re barely able to draw in a breath when Ghost is already tugging your pants off, waistband coming to settle snugly right below your arse, exposing only what he needs, a couple of fingers gliding along your folds, curling right at your entrance.

But he doesn’t do what you expect; for him to sink into cunt, fill it to the brim, distended until you’ve got tears clumping your eyelashes and blood on your tongue.

(It’s been a very long time since you’ve last laid with a man, and not one has ever been as big as he in stature.)

Instead, he takes Soap’s bare length in one giant paw, using your creamy slick for better friction, and ruts his own heavy cock against it until they’re both spurting the warm spend Ghost crams into your needy hole with two fingers.

“‘M not fuckin’ you, not after your stupid little stunt,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather, and you’re not sure if laughing will stop the hysterical sob about to slither past your trembling lips.

Soap stares up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, content, satiated unlike you, and pinches your cheek with his fingers. “Next time ye want tae threaten a person—,” his voice peters off, and you can feel Ghost wiping his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching for Soap’s pistol and pressing a button, the cylinder dropping open.

Empty. Every single chamber is hollow, like the empty sockets of a honeycomb. “Make sure it’s loaded, sweet’eart.”

Un. fucking. Believable.

#i tried so i get a golden star for my weak efforts #twas supposed to be but a drabble #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #cod smut #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish x reader

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scirelistener · 5 months ago

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POMEGRANATES

idia shroud x gn! reader

sypnosis : hades had persephone, idia has you.

It felt a tad bit ironic, if you were being honest. Staring at the carmine shine of the pomegranates given as a welcoming snack by the housewarden of Ignihyde, you couldn’t help but think of the tales of a certain King of the Underworld.

Though the sources varied on the reason why Persephone ended up in the Underworld (some daring to say Persephone was willing to go and was not abducted), it was ultimately this fruit, the pomegranate, that made her return to the dark and gloomy realm of Hades. While the Earth above froze with Demeter’s wrath, the king would reunit with his queen for a short period of 6 months.

Playing with the pomegranate seed, you wondered if Idia, himself, knew the irony of serving these. He who was leader to the very dormitory based on the King of the Underworld.

“.. The pomegranate isn’t laced with poison, y’know.” Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt as you turned to see Idia staring at you with what seemed to be puzzlement in his gaze. “Your HP is gonna be fine.”

You plopped the seed into your mouth before laying yourself down onto his bed, the softness of his blankets swallowing you whole. “I was just thinking how ironic it was that you’re serving me pomegranates.”

Idia stared at you for another moment, this time in bewilderment before realizing the myth that you were correlating the pomegranates with and turning away with a scoff. “That myth? The pomegranates in the tales are special. The ones I gave you are completely normal.” He said begrudgingly.

Noticing the tone, you flipped over to your stomach. Whilst silently admiring his fiery hair which glowed a serene blue with further help from his computer screen, you asked tentatively, “How do you feel about the tales?”

You internally winced as you watched as his fingers come to a halt as so did the clicking sounds of his keyboard and mouse. You were about to dismiss the question when the housewarden answered with a tone which you could not decipher.

“I wouldn’t go so far like he did. It’s similar to imprisonment, no? For the Queen, it must’ve felt like a player being tied to a checkpoint.” His tone resembled resentment. The glow of the computer screen gave notice to his face which scrunched up in a manner that screamed annoyance.

Then a sigh left from his lips before his fingers started clicking on his keyboard again. “But there’s no point of having my opinion on the tale. Doesn’t change the fact that the family’s still stuck with the damn curse.” Idia continued to game, this time with an expression that seemed more sullen than usual.

Sensing a change in his mood, you frowned at yourself for asking that question before your eyes trailed back to the pomegranate. As you reached for more, your mouth moved on its on,

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you.”

The words slipped out of your mouth too naturally for your own good. With a realization that slammed into your brain like a hammer of immense power, the pomegranate seeds slipped out of your fingers and your hand went loose; your eyes widened and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

Dread plunged into your mind and painted your head white as you awaited for the housewarden’s reaction.

“…Huh?” Idia’s voice cracked in the middle of his outburst. You carefully turned your head towards him just to see the tip of his fiery hair burning a delicate shad of pink. The housewarden had a hand covering half his face while the other clutched onto his chest, his slender fingers wrinkling that iconic hoodie of his.

“I-, I meant-”

“You can’t just s-say something like that!” Idia stammered, his fingers crawling up to grip on his hair like his life depended on it. You internally winced at how tightly he was gripping it and was about to say something when he started blabbering, “What, you think you’re some sort of main character of an otome game!? Just because I feel the same, doesn’t mean you get to say those things out loud! You won’t gain any extra relationship levels with me just by saying that; all you’re giving me is a heart attack! I swear-”

As you were about to blubber out another apology in hopes of easing the poor guy’s ramble, you froze when you heard his words that indicated reciprocation.

"Wait. What do you mean you feel the same?"

“-Plus you wouldn’t even- huh?” Idia froze just like you did, eyes now back on you. Visible confusion spread over his face before his cheeks lit up a dark red. The pink that was only present near the tip of his hair now slowly unfurled into the never ending bluish fire.

Idia backed up against the chair, his body impossibly close to the backrest, as you stood up and slowly walked over to him with a giddy smile along with a blush that was a bit milder than is but still present.

Idia barely managed to muffle down his anxiety as you stopped right in front of him before leaning down.

“Idia, say that again? Please?”

How could he refuse you? You who looked down at him with eyes shining with expectation and joy of him mistakenly blabbering out his desires.

Though his hand ultimately crawled up his face once more to cover his red face, his words were head clearly.

“I-I wouldn’t mind being with you either.”

He hoped you didn’t notice how he took out a word in that sentence and how it might’ve possibly changed the meaning.

a/n : sorry for very shitty fic, i’ve been too idia-invested! also does anyone know epic the musical and has anyone listened to the vengeance saga cause sheeeeeesh the showdown between odysseus and poseidon had me shivering in my boots!!

and of course, please help those in needs by checking out the donation links on the master list post!

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x gn reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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eraenaa · 1 year ago

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Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader Tag List

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife.

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain.

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame.

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin.

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you.

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet.

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear.

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you.

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron?

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say.

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips.

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls.

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you.

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control.

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing.

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching.

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home.

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you.

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now.

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle.

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage.

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him.

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head.

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron.

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear.

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered.

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure.

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,” You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression.

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet.

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time.

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father, Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife.

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips.

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more.

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine.

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers.

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt.

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking.

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you.

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans.

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan.

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for.

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you.

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling.

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune part two #austin butler #harkonnen #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #house harkonnen #great houses #na-baron harkonnen

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rinnstars · 6 months ago

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picture-perfect!

in which he keeps polaroids of you still in everything he owns

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, drabble, post-canon, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

people always say the honeymoon period of relationships end - sugary-sweet words that rolls out of ones tongue every few minutes turn into more mellowed down and calm compliments occasionally, opening of doors and other gentlemanly behaviour would slowly cease or become a rare sight, dilated eyes that focuses on you will slowly drift away too. he thinks that’s stupid - he doesn’t think for a single second of this relationship of years has that tightening of his chest stop when he sees you, nor has his eyes have not focused on you as if youre the ball he hyperfocuses on during his games, nor has he ever once stopped taking photos of you when your gaze drift away from his with one single click that to him, captures your beauty and the memories all in one printed polaroid in his room, hundreds of it hidden in secret corners of his room.

a polaroid of you as a bookmark for his textbooks - your smile practically brightening the dark background of an empty classroom where you found your lost keychain, exclaiming to him before turning around and pulling him into your embrace, your scent whirling and making him all dizzy as your touch sends electricity down his very spine. it keeps him in check, encouraging him to continue to do his homework even though he knows that’s not the path he’ll pursue with football in mind - but when your lips tug upwards the same way when he shows you another increased grade, he thinks its all worth it. and so he does - with that photo right beside him, he finishes assignments and essays that he usually dreads to do and would much rather spend his time in detention and taking a good nap than to figure out on which formula to use, what the key words are - and god is his head practically spinning already. but for you, he’ll continue on to study for that stupid quiz tomorrow, memorising the formula for you, each letter and equations all written with you in mind, ticking each answer with the hello-kitty pen you gave him. and so, when he shows you his full marks quiz, you would reward him with that crescent-eyed grin that gets his heart pumping as though hes right back on the field.

polaroids of you on his walls beside his bed - first one of you with your favourite strawberry cheesecake in front of you grinning as you successfully convinced him to go to the cafe you had been craving for for the whole day, hands holding the fork and knife before you digged in excitedly into the sugary-sweet and tangy taste of the cake that he secretly admits tastes so much better when its with you, second one of you with a sanrio stuffed toy holding it to your cheeks that puffs up as you laugh right as he snapped the photo, a plushie you adore that’s still on your bed to this day that he managed to obtain after loads of money and time spent on that one claw machine simply because you were too excited to obtain it, third one of you looking back big-eyed as he caught you off guard in class, taking a picture the second he called out your name. every night, he glances at the photographs that forms a heart right on his wall and clarity enters his mind again - insecure thoughts that floods his mind seems to go silent when he glanaces at you through the photo frame, his heavy breathing after another of those nightmare that turns slower and calmer as he looks at the blurry photo of you through his teary eyes and limited lighting in his practically pitch-black room, his smile that is uncharacteristically too wide for his face when he looks at you smiling as if youre infecting him with your addictive grin. for now, that’ll do well to replace your body caged in his arm that embraces you just right, your scent that fills his nose that practically acts as serotonin, and your warmth that contrasts his usually cold body.

and a polaroid of you with his jersey holding his trophy when he won his first big match under pxg, the backdrop being of the field that he was playing at just minutes ago, your eyes filled with adoration and pride at him behind the camera, holding your digicam that rings with the matching keychain to his polaroid film. tugged safely into his wallet where he can see your face - a reminder to buy something for you whenever hes at yours and his favourite desert store to buy you the pistachio macorns you adore or even the strawberry mochi that you look at with that shine in your eyes, a reminder of him being fortunate to have you to stay with him despite everything that brightens up his day no matter how bad it has been at trainings or matches, and most importantly a reminder for him on why each goal matters, each kick dedicated to you, each step practically made with you in his mind. to win, not completely only for his own ego, or as revenge against the critics both in his life and in the media, but for you - for you to look at him with such adoration that practically almost makes him start kicking his feet and everything as if hes a maiden in love, for you to kiss him and merge oyu and him together as congratulation that makes his heart pump even faster than on field, for him to see you wearing his jersey and holding his trophy as though its all yours - because in his mind, it is. because without you in his life, without your support and without your love, he doubts he can truly be the best striker in the world, no - he wouldn’t even be himself, itoshi rin, without you.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin.<3 #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #have a fever again not lcikgumg ij as per usual #fever but rinmaxxing

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astraystayyh · 2 years ago

Text

In my dreams

Seungmin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. my interpretation of in my dreams by tearliner, love X stereo.

Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.

skz song series

cw: reader has anxiety and deals with lots of self-doubt and insecurities.

a.n: the end of our skz song series!! and a pretty personal final fic, this one is based on my own experience with anxiety, so it might differ for everyone :) thank you for reading as always <3

You watch, a soft smile on your face as two little girls play with one another in the playground. It reminds you of simpler times, when you could just walk up to another human and become friends with them instantly.

But reality is much more challenging, especially for someone like you, constantly plagued by their anxious thoughts.

Anxiety didn't tiptoe into your life, one drop at a time so you'd get accustomed to its overwhelming presence. Instead, you woke up one day and it barged into you, through cracks and dents you didn't even know existed in your being, and then it made itself a permanent home within the confines of your heart.

You never truly learned how to live with this parasite feeding off your soul, draining you completely until you became a mere shell of who you once were. You never fully adjusted to the invisible hands choking you from within, to the voice nagging you in the back of your mind, telling you that something horrible was bound to happen.

Because nothing ever went wrong, day after day, nothing bad happened. And yet, the feeling of dread persisted and lingered until you started to believe that the problem was you.

And once you opened the door to self-doubt, you could never fully close it again.

You're too overwhelmed, too nervous, too much of everything bad. Your conversations are scrutinized, down to every syllable you uttered, to the way you smiled and how you laughed. The interactions might differ but the regret that haunts you after is the same.

So, you diluted your being, in an effort to be more acceptable, easier in the lives of the people around you. You believed that if you pleased everyone you ever encoutered then at the end you must satisfy yourself too.

You sigh softly, drumming your fingers along your knee. You’re starting a new year in college tomorrow. Your first one wasn't exceptional by any means. Aileen, the girl who sat beside you from time to time was nice, and you grabbed coffee sometimes as you prepared for your exams together. But she had other friends, ones she's much closer to, ones she invited to her birthday party, ones who she didn't simply fill her free time with.

You shake your head, putting a stop to the thoughts in your head before they get too much once again, pushing you over an edge you don't want to be in right now.

You'll try harder this year. You'll be okay, for once.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Your professor Lee is scribbling something on the large whiteboard, as he waits for the class to fill up. Someone sits next to you, and the smell of their cologne wafts to your nose- hints of vanilla and wood seemingly calming down your nerves. You quickly take a glance at them, to find a guy with long brown hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He's taking out his notepad from his bag, and you smile at the chick keychain he has on it. He catches you looking and you quickly avert your gaze, heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Felix," he greets enthusiastically, and you turn your head slowly to be met with his wide grin. It softens his features, making his eyes turn into moon crescents. You envy his ability to smile without overthinking how he looks.

"Yn," you introduce back, and he nods, the grin still etched on his face. "You were in my Economics class last year, no?" he asks and you tilt your head to the side, as you mull over his question.

"I was but I don't remember seeing you," you admit sheepishly and he waves a hand in the air, not bothered the least by your words.

"It's okay, I just remembered your presentation on Inflation. I finally understood why we can't just print more money," he admits with a chuckle, and you giggle against your will.

"I don't blame you, it sounds like an easy solution," you agree, and his eyes widen.

"Right! when I tell my friends they just stare at me in disappointment."

You laugh at his adorable pout, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within your chest. He's nice.

"I'm glad I helped you then, I was so nervous presenting it," you clear your throat as he smiles impressively at you. "Really? I couldn’t tell at all."

Mr. Lee calls for your attention and you both turn your heads back to the board. You couldn’t really focus, Felix’s words echoing in your head like a broken mantra- he couldn’t tell you were nervous. A sudden relief dawns on you at the possibility that, maybe, not everyone is aware of the neverending storm raging within you, threatening to drown you at any giving moment.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"Movie night at my dorm?" Felix proposes as he packs up his bag, your two hours long class finally done.

"Will Seungmin be there?" you ask, a slight edge to your voice and Felix pauses, shaking his head at you.

"Yn, you're overreacting. I promise he doesn't hate you."

"Have you ever seen him smiling at me?" you ask, arching your eyebrow expectantly at him. He stays silent and you wiggle your finger in the air. "Exactly! Please tell me he won't be there."

"About that... He's helping me bake the cookies," Felix smiles sheepishly and you groan, falling dramatically on your seat.

"I’m not coming."

"But the cookies," Felix pouts, and the promise of the chewy baked goods is so enticing it makes you second-guess your decision.

"The cookies...," you whine, and Felix giggles grabbing your hand to pull you up.

"I’ll see you at 5?"

"Yes," you concede, a small smile on your lips. You wait until Felix bids you goodbye for it to finally slip from your face.

Seungmin has never liked you, from the moment Felix introduced you to him. You still remember it clear as day, the way his eyes slightly widened when they fell on you, before narrowing down. How he didn't utter a single word when Felix left you both alone to get your drinks. Your panic grew as an uncomfortable silence reigned on the both of you, and you racked your brain for something to say to cut through that eerie quiet.

"Seungmin, right?" you asked, a bit too cheerfully, and you winced inwardly at your tone. He didn't reply, only humming back. It was so faint you wouldn't have caught it had you not been staring at him intently.

"What's your major?" Your voice cracked.

"Computer science." He replied curtly, and you waited patiently, expecting him to return the question. He didn't. And you shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Maybe he just didn't do well with strangers. Maybe he wasn't a chatty person, to complement Felix's extroverted nature.

But you were wrong. You watched in complete astonishment as he teased Felix relentlessly, a wide smile on his face. It made his eyes soften, a newfound fondness itching itself on his expressions. He laughed and he joked and you felt yourself shrink more and more, this way he wouldn't notice you anymore, wouldn't glare at you as if you did something horribly wrong to him.

Felix tried to include you as best as he could in their conversation, but you tuned it out. It was hard to focus on their talk when there was a tumultuous one ongoing in your mind. Seungmin's behavior just further cemented every horrible idea you held about yourself. There is something wrong about you, and he can see it. You may have fooled Felix but you didn't fool Seungmin. If you were him you wouldn't talk to you either.

Every encounter with Seungmin since then left you feeling fifteen years old again, in a classroom full of unkind eyes zeroed on you. You tried to talk about his interests, to string along a normal conversation, one that would reassure that your first encounter was a wrongful impression.

But he did not like talking to you, only offering short replies in response. It’s as if his tongue was tied in your response, and in return it only magnified the knot in your stomach. You went through every conversation with him a million times in your head, trying to pinpoint what exactly went wrong. What warranted him to be so silent in your presence, and yours only, as if you weren’t worthy of a simple conversation. And the answer always tied back to you.

So, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past month, sparing him the chore that is existing near you. It was particularly hard since Felix was his best friend and roommate, and surprisingly he actually enjoyed spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time before Felix started to hate you too.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"You're moving too much," Seungmin chastises and you freeze in your place at his words. You are sitting on the couch of Felix’s dorm later on that day, a horror movie playing in the small TV before you. Felix decided to lay on the floor, buried in a pool of yellow blankets, and a long pillow that weirdly had the picture of one of their friends printed on it. "It's my safety net," he explained and you didn't question him any further.

For some reason, Seungmin decided to sit next to you, instead of the opposing couch. Granted, he can see the TV more clearly from here, still this is the first time he willingly went somewhere near you, let alone talked to you.

You decide to ignore him, too focused on predicting the next jump scare, your feet tapping the floor furiously. But still, it happens so abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from you, anf you clutch the edge of the couch even tighter.

"Close your eyes," Seungmin speaks suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at him, confused.

"There is a jump scare coming soon," he clears his throat, "just... close your eyes if you don't want to see it."

You comply without much thought and soon enough, you can hear a shrill scream coming from the screen. He was right.

"It passed," he says softly, and you tentatively open your eyes once again. There is a foreign expression on Seungmin's face, one you haven't seen before, but it passes as quickly as it came, like a dream slipping between your fingers as soon as you wake up.

"How did you know?" you ask, hugging your knees tightly to your chest.

"I already watched this movie."

"Really? Why are you watching it again?"

"Because. I had nothing better to do," he says, almost defensively, his hand now covering his mouth as if he had to physically stop the words from spilling out.

You don't reply, turning back to look at the screen. Seungmin doesn't tell you when a jump scare is coming next, he simply taps your arm, and you close your eyes on cue.

His hand brushing against your bare skin feels weird, not uncomfortable by any means, but it still is a foreign sensation. You didn't know he had such soft hands, and you always imagined them to be cold. But they are warm, and you wonder what other things about Seungmin you've been wrong about.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"I'm so tired," Felix groans, laying his head on your shoulder and you giggle, patting his head in mock sympathy. It's been three months since the start of your year, which means that the assignments are starting to pile up on you all.

"Me too," you sigh, and Seungmin stays silent next to you. Felix dragged you both to this coffeeshop, a little outing to recharge his spirit, as he texted you. You're slowly getting used to Seungmin's brooding presence. He talks to you a little more, even cracking a few jokes here and there. But you’re still wary of him. You keep your guard up just in case he forcefully brings a mirror to your face once again, reminding you of everything you despise about yourself.

"I'll go order, it's my treat. Pick a place for us?" Felix says and you nod, walking ahead of Seungmin towards a table near the back.

You sit down first, and Seungmin follows second, sitting right across from you. You quickly bring out your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the apps to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"You have a presentation tomorrow, right?" Seungmin speaks up, startling you, and you slowly put your phone down.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Felix told me that it makes up 25% of your grade. Are you nervous?"

"A little," you admit, even though ‘a little’ didn't even begin to cover it.

"Don't be. You'll do well," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You almost feel as if you've imagined it before it dissipates.

"Thank you," you nod, as Felix brings the tray down your table.

"Is this for me?" you ask tentatively, pointing to the strawberry milkshake, a sore thumb sticking out between the iced americano, and the hazelnut Frappuccino, Seungmin’s and Felix’s respective go to orders.

"They got the order wrong. I got you an iced matcha," Felix pouts, double checking his receipt.

"It's okay," you smile slightly. There was nothing you despised more than having to change up your order.

"You don't want to drink this," Seungmin says, staring at you expectantly and you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "I don't mind."

Seungmin stands up, grabbing the drink from your hand before taking the receipt from the table. He goes to the counter and you watch in astonishment as he comes back, a green drink in hand this time.

"Here," he hands you your cup, before grabbing his own and sipping from it. Your drink is cold, but the warm tingles spreading through your being at his sweet gesture outweigh any other feeling.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Talking in front of 267 people never gets easier.

You memorized your presentation; you rehearsed it so much you could probably recite it with your eyes closed. Yet, the nerves still found a way to weave themselves inside you. Your hands were shaking, so much you couldn't even stare at the notes you prepared. Your palms were sweaty, blood rushing rapidly to your ears, tuning out your voice as you spoke.

You can’t even recall what you said exactly, it’s as if your body had a mind of its own, your mouth moving itself without you commanding it. You aren’t sure how it was, but someone smiled at you reassuringly from the first row, and the professor clapped, so you assume you did okay.

The class finally ends, your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving in their trail an excruciating exhaustion. You rub your eyes tiredly, as you slowly walk out of the door, before stopping in your tracks when you notice Seungmin leaning against the wall, hands buried in his varsity jacket.

His eyes are closed, a pair of earphones dangling across his chest. But then, as if he feels you looking at him, he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on you. You stay put in your place as he walks to you, his bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. He hooks his thumb underneath the strap, keeping it in place

"How was it?" he questions, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he was asking about. Your presentation. Was he waiting for you?

"I think I did well?" you reply, but it comes out more of a question to which he giggles softly.

"Are you asking me?" he teases and you roll your eyes playfully. "I did well," you repeat and he smiles, nodding a bit. "I’m sure you did. Here." He opens his bag, taking out your favorite chocolate bar from it- it had bits of caramelized pistachio and almonds in it. Seungmin doesn’t like it, he prefers plain milk chocolate, as Felix told you one day.

"Eat this, I ended up buying two by mistake, I still have an extra one at the dorm." You grab it from his hands, and he quickly leaves before you could properly thank him.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

You always dread the days you'd wake up with a heavy weight crushing your chest.

You try to distract yourself, try to focus in class and take notes. You try to laugh at Felix's jokes and savor the brownies he just brought you. But you can't. It feels as if you're a cup filled to the brim, each passing second bringing you closer to when that fateful drop would finally make you overflow. And you could do nothing but watch yourself unravel.

Seungmin's eyes never leave you, and it only makes your anxiety spike. It feels as if he's peering inside your soul, witnessing how a cord ties itself around your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You can't speak anymore, every word you say threatening to make tears spill out of your eyes. You aren't sure you can make them stop if they ever start falling.

Nothing happened, nothing's happening, you try to remind yourself. But you are scratching your hand incessantly, and you feel an overwhelming need to flee. To run away, somewhere where only you would witness the display of your broken soul. So you sputter a meek excuse, and then you stand up and head to your dorm.

It's raining outside, and you don't have an umbrella. But you are grateful for it, since the rain mingles with your salty tears, shielding them from the curious eyes of the people passing by. You need to get home, you need to hide somewhere and you need to remember how to breathe-

"Yn," a hand grabs your forearm and you startle, instinctively taking two hurried steps back. It's Seungmin. He removed his blue hoodie and he's now placing it over both of your heads.

"What are you doing? You'll get sick," he sounds mad, and you can't take his disappointed tone anymore.

"I'm having a bad day and I don't need you to make it worse," you say, startling yourself with the raw emotion in your voice.

He physically recoils from your words, his arms faltering as he gazes at you, a wounded look in his eyes. "I make your days worse?" he asks quietly and his voice sounds so small, you can't help the regret that courses through you.

"Come on, Seungmin," you chuckle warily, "don't you hate me?"

"No?"

"Hate is a strong word, okay. You dislike me."

"I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Because you never wanted to talk to me, from the moment we met. And it wouldn't matter if you were this way with everyone, but it's only me. And you make me feel so small each time I'm around you," you ramble angrily, as Seungmin's eyes widen with each passing second.

"Yn, yn, I don't- I didn't know you felt this way, but I don't hate you. I truly don't, I promise you," he's panicking, voice growing higher with each word, and you feel a sudden embarrassment flood your being for lashing out at him.

You don't know what to say and he sighs, looking up at the cloudy sky before meeting your eyes once again.

"This is embarrassing, God, um..." he places his hoodie on top of your head before running a hand through his face. "I don't talk to you because you make me nervous."

"I do?"

"Yes. A lot," he chuckles, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. "I just... I find you very interesting, and funny, and I like watching you, not in a creepy way, my God what am I saying," he whines, hiding his face in his hands and you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth.

"Don't laugh," he pouts and you nod, willing the smile to disappear from your face.

"I like watching you exist. Just laugh and smile and talk. You look very pretty doing it. I just don't know how to deal with it. That's on me."

This time the smile is effectively gone from your face. The weight of his confession distracting you from the turmoil of emotions that swirled within you.

"I'm sorry, for making you feel that way. I never meant to. For what it's worth, you make me feel like a small kid again, as if I'm having a crush for the first time."

A fresh wave of tears brims in your waterline, and Seungmin's eyes soften at the sight.

"Please don't cry," he says, gently wiping the rain droplets from your cheeks. "I don't hate you, I think I like you too much and that's the problem."

I'm sorry I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away

"Okay," you say quietly, your mind not yet registering what he said, too busy focusing on his hands on your face. You can't believe you've ever felt invisible because of Seungmin, when he's looking at you like you're the most precious being in the world.

"You had a bad day?" he asks, his knuckles brushing against your cheek tenderly, and you nod, silently.

"Would you like a hug?" he asks, and you nod again. A hug sounded nice.

He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. His t-shirt is cold, clinging to his now wet skin. But a surprising warmth emanates from his chest, shielding you from the pouring rain- it travels from his body to yours, as if it's a familiar path, one it underwent a million times before. His hand finds your back, and he pats it gently, following a soothing rhythm, one you try to sync your breathing to. "You did well," he whispers, "you always do well," and his words feel like a patch of shade on a scorching day.

You exhale softly, tightening your arms around his waist. You think you can stay here, for a while. You could rest in Seungmin, now and tomorrow, and maybe for the following months. If he still likes you this much.

Bonus

"I'm ready," Seungmin says, his soft hair tickling your bare skin. He's laying on top of your stomach, black tie undone, a piece of crumpled paper in his hands. You can tell he's nervous, with the way he looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. You lean down, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head. He closes his eyes, his hold on the yellowed paper slightly faltering.

"I'm all ears," you whisper, and he smiles softly at you, before looking at his written vows- the ones you decided to read to each other after your wedding ceremony, just the two of you, in your personal bubble. It feels much more intimate this way, they are words meant for you only to hear, after all.

"My love," he starts, and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay. "If I'm reading this it means I finally married you, which is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life." You giggle and he can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh.

"I am writing these vows one year into our relationship, I haven't proposed yet, but I just know you're the one I want to marry. And I suppose I don't want to forget everything I want to say to you, when that day comes." His words make your breath hitch in your throat as realization dawns on you- he wrote this three years ago, and he kept it safe, till this day.

"I still remember when I saw you for the first time. I couldn't talk because you looked so pretty, and you were smiling at Felix and I felt an overwhelming need to be the one you were smiling at. I think you cast a spell on me because I couldn't even ask you about your major back, I couldn't believe how awestruck I was. But you already know this, don't you?" He looks up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and you smile widely. You still remember when Seungmin recounted the first time you met, from his perspective. Rosy cheeks and fumbling words as he explained how much he felt for you in that instant, and how little he could express it.

"But there are still things I haven't told you," he clears his throat. "Like how Felix told me what horror movie he was planning to watch with you, and I looked it up the night before, to memorize all the jump scares just in case you were afraid. And you were, and I'm glad I did. I don't even like horror movies, but it was worth watching it three times in a row, just for you."

"Also, how I had to run out of my class to yours, so I'd catch you after the end of your presentation. I bought that chocolate only for you. I kept a stack of fifteen bars hidden in my desk, just in case you were feeling down, and you ended up needing it. I kept asking Felix about everything you liked, and disliked, and he was probably sick of me at that time," he chuckles, as memories of begging his roommate for any bit of information about you flooded his mind.

"I don't know how far into the future it'll be when I'll finally read this to you. I don't know how I'll be, or where I'll be, but as long as you're with me then I must be okay. I used to overthink everything, plan every part of my life so it'd run smoothly. That is until you came into my life, so suddenly, and you flipped it upside down. I didn't care to plan my life anymore, all that mattered is that it revolved around you," he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.

"I knew I wanted to marry you when you took me stargazing. You talked about the stars and galaxies so excitedly. And then you brought up Saturn; how it was unique among the planets, adorned with thousands of ringlets. And I remember thinking that you're my saturn, you're the dazzling planet that everyone admires and I'm the ring spinning around you, the one you're keeping afloat. And as long as you're here, I have a purpose and I'm okay. So please..." his voice wavers, as silent tears slip out of his eyes.

"Don't leave me. I know we're married now, but still, don't leave me. I love you. I feel like I've loved you in different lifetimes, in different earths and timelines. Everything can come crashing down around us, but one thing that'll forever remain the same is my love for you. I was made to love you, after all. My eyes were made to look at you, and my hands to graze your cheeks. And my heart... My heart was made to beat for you. And I love you. I feel like I don't say it enough but I truly love you. As long as I'm breathing then I'm yours."

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