#everything i used turned completely red soaked in blood

[unamused-kookaburra]

I don't want to jinx myself but my second 12 hour shift at the hospital is going really well, especially compared to yesterday's 12 hour shift (I fainted in the last hour and the team leader made me call my parents to pick me up :))

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

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“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments. 

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself. 

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath. 

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet. 

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him. 

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses. 

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

*

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team. 

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men. 

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

[dirtyvulture]

Darkest Knight - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You meet a pretty woman in a bar...

Word count: 4954

AN: Click here for Part 1!

Thanks to everyone who read and interacted with Part 1. Things get a little wild in this one...

“I should have never come here,” Natasha cries. “You don’t deserve this, after everything you’ve done for me–”

“I can help you,” you insist. “Please, Nat. Just tell me who they are–”

She looks up at you, and even in the darkness the fear in her eyes is unmissable.

“The Red Room.”

The words send physical shivers down your spine. They weren’t ones you had expected to ever hear again, and you were shocked that this woman knew of its existence, let alone escaped. Now, you can fully sympathize with and understand her fear.

“Put your shoes on. We’ll go out the back door. Hurry.” You speak in short but commanding sentences, directing Natasha into the kitchen. The pounding on the door escalates to heavy, inconsistent thuds, and you know the “officers” are using their battering ram now. Luckily, you had assembled this cabin yourself, board by board, with the door built of solid oak, so that would buy you some precious time.

You stop at the freezer to grab a plastic bag that Natasha doesn’t even look at. She’s staring at the back door, practically shaking with fear, and anger fills you so suddenly you can’t see. But you can’t slip into one of your rages now, not with Natasha being in such close proximity and having no idea what you’re actually capable of. If she knew who you really were, what you were, she’d run happily into the Red Room goons’ arms and beg them to take her away from you. 

On the other side of the back door, you hear the crunch of boots on fresh snow, the anxious heartbeats, and the pump of a shotgun.

You don’t have any time to warn Natasha before you jump in front of her, shielding her body with yours just in time as a round of buckshot blasts through the door into your chest. The pain is like an explosion that takes your breath away, but luckily darkness engulfs you before it becomes overbearing.

Natasha screams when your weight falls back into her. You are ridiculously, unexpectedly heavy, almost pinning her down, but she manages to scramble back in time, leaving you to thud onto the floor. She stares at your body in shock, where lead pellets are buried in your chest, blood seeping out to soak your layers of shirts. Natasha instinctively gravitates for you, trying to find an area to apply pressure so she can slow the bleeding. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” she whimpers, ignoring the fist punching through the weakened door and opening the lock from the outside. 

“Hey, I found her!”

“And you took out the other one!”

“Natalia…” someone says in a mocking voice. “Natalia, come home to us…”

Natasha’s head snaps up and adrenaline fills her veins as she blindly launches herself at the soldier who killed you. She tears the shotgun out of his hands and clubs him on the head with it, knocking him down and smashing the butt into his helmet’s face shield until it cracks. She hasn’t felt fury like this in a while, putting her in an almost euphoric state, but her focus is a concentrated pinpoint, and she doesn’t see the second soldier behind her pointing a gun at her head.

“RAHHHHH!” 

Natasha ducks, wondering if someone let a large animal into your home. She catches a flash of silver as the muzzle of the soldier’s gun falls harmlessly to the floor as if sliced right off. You’re back on your feet all of a sudden, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl, three silver, knife-like claws protruding from your knuckles. You slash at the soldier, tearing through his body armor effortlessly and puncturing his heart. He crumples next to his partner, who’s shaking in complete terror while crawling away from you.

“Don’t look, Nat,” you growl and she turns away, flinching when she hears the man’s cut off scream. She jumps when you grab her shoulder, afraid that she’ll find herself on the other end of your knives, but you shake her gently. When she looks at you, your knives are gone and so are the buckshot holes in your chest. 

“How are you–What did you–” Natasha stammers.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking a step back from her when you sense her overwhelming levels of stress. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Natasha slips her hand into her pocket, where your stolen pocket knife is. It would be like trying to fight you off with a toothpick, but Natasha Romanoff wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

“Nat, please. We can get away on my motorcycle. Come on.”

You’ve made no move to hurt her, keeping your hands where she can see them. Even though you had turned the Red Room soldiers into shish kabobs, you hadn���t let them suffer, taking them down with deadly accuracy and efficiency. Deep down, Natasha knows she can trust you, but her body is having a very resistant physical reaction to going with you. After all, anyone’s natural instinct would be to run very fast and far from away from a person who literally came back from the dead and mowed down two grown men with knives built into their arms. 

“Nat?” you prompt a final time, not sure what you’re going to do if she refuses to go with you. 

“Okay,” she says, wringing her hands together frantically. “I trust you.” 

It means more than you can explain that she’s put her faith in you and you lead her out of the bloodied kitchen. You race to the shed, where you tear off the padlock with your bare hands. There’s only one helmet, which you clasp around Natasha’s head. You throw one leg over the seat of your motorcycle and it sinks considerably under your weight. Natasha slides on behind you, wrapping her arms around your muscular torso, unable to resist the waves of body heat coming off of you.

She hardly notices the blistering wind as you take off into the forest, somehow finding your way around trees and rocks despite keeping the headlights off. Her fingers are clenched, almost frozen, to the plastic bag you had made such an effort to retrieve from the freezer. She has no interest in its contents now, clinging to you desperately and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them she’ll wake up from this nightmare.

You eventually turn the motorcycle onto a road and careen on. 

*********************************************************************** It’s probably not the wisest idea to stop at a motel, but you’re certain Natasha is still exhausted from the long night that’s not over, and you need some time to collect yourself. You park your motorcycle in the dirt lot and shake Natasha awake.

“We’ll stay here for a few hours, then keep moving,” you say, gently prying the plastic bag from her. Her hands are freezing and you feel awful for not taking care of her better. 

“But the men…they could catch up–”

“You need to get proper rest,” you interrupt. You’re not sure how many hours she had been awake before she met you at the bar, and while she’d already been looking better after dinner, you didn’t want to push her.

“This is too dangerous–” Natasha protests.

“They know you’re with me,” you say, and this quiets her. “So they’ll need to come up with a new plan if they want you.” You untwist the plastic bag, pulling out a soggy wad of cash. Her eyes grow wide. “This should keep us covered for a few days.” Then, you notice the rusty red splotches of dried blood splattered across your shirt. If you walk up to the front desk like this, the manager would call the cops. “Uh…shit.”

“Here.” Natasha takes her jacket off, despite your protests for her to keep it on, and she wraps the sleeves around your shoulders, carefully draping them in a way that hides the blood splatter. She fights back a visible shiver. “Much better.”

“Thanks. Let’s go quick,” you say, herding her into the tiny front office that barely fits the two of you side-by-side. “Two rooms,” you tell the pimply boy behind the dusty desk who smells like energy drinks and weed. 

“Huh?” he responds, blinking slowly at you.

“Two rooms. Please,” you say through your teeth, pulling out a few bills to show your commitment.

A long pause as you stare each other down.

“Uh, yeah we don’t have two rooms,” the boy says. “Just one–”

“That’s fine, then,” Natasha intervenes, as you can consider hefting the kid over your shoulder and dragging him out to the dumpster around the corner. “We’ll take whatever you have left.”

“Sure.”

You reluctantly hand over the deposit and he disappears into the back room to find the keys. Mumbling under your breath about the lack of hiring standards, you rub absently at your chest and Natasha looks at you in concern.

“You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” You drop your hand back to your side. “Probably gonna cough up some buckshot later, to be honest.”

Natasha doesn’t know if she should laugh or leave. “How did you…” she trails off, searching for the right words.

“Heal so fast?” you supply. “Always have. I was literally just…born that way.”

“And the…” Natasha gestures to her own hands and forearms. 

“Claws?” you finish. “Been with me since the beginning, too.” Your answers are vague, almost useless in the new number of questions they spark, but Natasha knows now is not the time. The boy finally returns with a key hooked to rabbit’s foot, which you accept with a very judgemental scowl, but are very glad to finally be on your way to some privacy for the night.

***********************************************************************

Natasha startles awake, trying to piece together the traumatic memories of the past eight hours into a coherent storyline. She’s alone in the motel room, her anxiety skyrocketing at the thought that you might have ditched her, when the door creaks open and you step back in. You’re wearing new clothes and holding a crumpled white bag stained with grease. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you grunt, tossing the bag onto the bed by her feet. “I got you some breakfast. It’s probably shit, but everything else nearby is closed.”

“Thanks.” Natasha reaches for the bag, despite having almost no appetite. She takes out one of the sandwiches, but can’t bring herself to take a bite. “Y/N, I think we need to get moving again. We’ve hung around for too long–”

“Eat your damn sandwich, then we’ll leave,” you gruff, and it’s almost endearing to Natasha how grumpy and thoughtful you can be at the same time. “But you know, we can’t keep running forever.”

“We can run far enough,” she insists. You don’t respond and Natasha realizes you’re waiting for her to take a bite of her egg and sausage sandwich. Fighting back a smile of amusement, she nibbles off the edge of the dry muffin and you nod in satisfaction. 

“Look Nat, I want to help you. You know that, right? But I’m…familiar…with these Red Room goons and–” Her eyebrows shoot up as she keeps chewing. “That’s another story for another day.”

“Did you escape from them, too?” Natasha asks, her eyes wide. 

“Well, not exactly. But I know who they are. What they are. And what they do to women like you.”

Natasha tenses suddenly, sensing judgment from you. She’s ready to defend herself, that she didn’t let them break her or keep her hostage, when you add, “They should be burned to the ground. Just a bunch of psychopathic perverts.” She laughs out loud, startling you because you weren’t even trying to make a joke, but you let out a snort. 

“But they’re a damn smart bunch of perverts,” you continue. “And you know we can’t take them alone. I have some old friends that can help us. I’ll take you to them.”

“More old friends? Like the one who’s clothes I’m wearing?” Natasha says, wanting to join in on the lighter mood, but she immediately regrets so when she sees the sadness cloud your face.

“Not like that,” you murmur. “She would’ve helped us, though. But she’s gone now, so…”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, guilt gnawing at her stomach for making such an unnecessary joke.

“They’re in New York. It’s been a while since I last saw them, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us stopping by,” you say to break the silence. “They’d help us without question.”

“Even against…the Red Room?”

“They’d have those Red Room schmucks for breakfast,” you chortle, the mood lightening once more. The knot in Natasha’s stomach loosens, and she takes another bite of the sandwich. “But it’s gonna take us a while to get there. And we’ll probably need a car…”

“I’ll handle it,” Natasha volunteers.

You look at her with a raised eyebrow, challenging but curious. “Okay. We’ll go when you’re done eating.”

***********************************************************************

While you clear out the motel room of all your tracks, Natasha triumphantly returns with the keys to a large blue Ram truck. You’re sad to leave your motorcycle behind, but it’s served you well, so you take it for one final ride to a strip mall, Natasha following in her menacing blue truck. You park in a shaded corner, saying good-bye with a caress to the faded leather seat, then join Natasha in the truck. 

With good weather and little traffic, the drive would take about 40 hours. And even though you’d be able to make the entire drive yourself with minimal stops, Natasha won’t let you. It’s a long first day, stopping for more junk food and bathroom breaks. You buy a phone from a gas station to text your contact in Westchester, and in the few responses you share, they seem eager for your arrival despite your circumstances. 

Another night is spent at a shoddy motel, and this time you don’t automatically ask for separate rooms. Natasha seems comfortable in your presence–tolerant, at the very least–and you’re starting to enjoy her company too. She keeps to herself for the most part and even though you can feel her studying you sometimes, she doesn’t ask anything inappropriate. She also tries to take care of you, though you think of yourself as the last person who needs it, but it’s cute how she picks up on your favorite gas station snacks (the jerky and Snickers bars) and buys you extra packets behind your back, and she offers to drive almost every time the two of you get back into the truck.

So on the third and final day of your trip, when Natasha begs to make a stop at a mall in Ohio, you agree, mostly because you know how happy it will make her. While the mall itself is disappointingly unimpressive, Natasha has the biggest smile as she drags you around under the pretense that she wants to find some clothing that wasn’t bought from a gas station, but she tries to browse every store, commenting which retailers have taken the old spots of familiar locations from her childhood. 

“Try this one on,” Natasha says, thrusting yet another checkered flannel shirt at you.

“They all look the same,” you grumble, feeling that you may be colorblind because you can’t tell what’s different about the prior three she’s made you try. 

“No, this one goes better with your eyes,” she says, her cheeks suddenly turning red when she realizes what she’s said.

You grin at her. “Then I’ll buy this one.”

You proudly wear the shirt out of the store, sneaking a glance to see Natasha’s expression and she does seem even more excited than when you first arrived at the mall. For lunch, you stop in the food court, and while you’re wolfing down a triple-patty burger with frightening intensity, Natasha suddenly reaches across the table and grabs your hand.

“What?” You stop mid-bite.

“Behind you,” she hisses.

Wiping grease off your chin, you drop your shoulder and turn your head subtly. But you know immediately who Natasha’s referring to. A woman with long black hair tied into an immaculate ponytail, not a single stray hair flying about, wearing a black overcoat and gloves, strides towards the food court with purposeful, powerful steps. You recognize her posture, her outfit, and the cold, emotionless expression on her face. 

“Holy shit,” you mumble. “They sent a Widow after us.” 

“We have to go!” Natasha tries yanking up but she isn’t strong enough. “How do you think she found us?”

“They’ve probably been tracking us the whole time,” you say, sad to leave the remainder of your meal. “They were just waiting for the right time to strike.” It’s hard to walk fast without making it obvious that you’re running from someone. You offer Natasha your hand and she takes it without hesitation. You drag her along a little, urging her without words. “It’ll be fine, Nat. We’ll take care of her and keep moving.”

“We shouldn’t have stopped here. This was all my stupid idea,” she says. 

“It wasn’t a stupid idea. I liked it.”

If the two of you weren’t running from a Widow, Natasha would have stopped and hugged you. Although she hasn’t known you for more than four days, she feels completely safe with you and has a deep admiration for you. You’ve never prodded about her past, you’ve never judged from where she came from. While you’re not such an open book yourself, Natasha can see how much you’ve relaxed around her from your first meeting. She likes your calmness, your willingness to drop literally everything in your life for her, with no expectation of anything in return. She’s never met someone like you before but hopes that you’ll let her stay around even after this mess is cleaned up. 

“Go this way,” you say, nudging Natasha into a maintenance corridor, having seen a sign for roof access on one of the walls. At least you could take care of the Widow without worrying about innocent casualties–assuming there weren’t more hiding up there. “Take the stairs,” you instruct Natasha, pushing her into the stairwell.

“I hope you don’t expect me to jump from the roof,” she replies.

“Well, if we have to, I’ll jump first and catch you,” you quip, but there is no time for her to linger on your comment. She dashes up the three flights of stairs with lightning speed, while you lumber up behind her.

“The door’s locked,” she says, stopping in her tracks.

“Move.” Your middle claw rips out of your hand and you slide it between the jamb and wall to cut the lock. Throwing your weight against the door, it pops open easily and you stumble out into the unusually bright outside. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Just hide somewhere and wait.”

Natasha is skeptical of your plans, not wanting to be caught in a dead end with another Widow, but she hurries towards an air conditioning unit. When she turns around, she sees you’re not following her and are facing the roof access door, your claws sliding out as the Widow makes her appearance, now wearing a gas mask.

“Y/N!” Natasha screams with no other way to stop you.

The Widow tosses a metal canister that immediately releases a thick, white fog. It hides the Widow and worse, burns your eyes until they water and destroys your sense of smell with a piercing, peppery odor.

“Shit.” You drop onto your belly, searching for a breathable pocket of air. You hear another canister clang to the ground, spreading the white fog farther and farther. As you crawl to where you think Natasha is taking cover, the unmistakable pops of gunfire ring through your skull. 

Your sense of sight, smell, and now sound are completely unreliable and fear ices your veins as you think about Natasha’s safety. But she’s also a Widow herself, so you’ll have to trust that she can handle herself while you figure out the way to her. You force yourself up, wiping snot on the sleeves of your new flannel and hunkering down, focusing hard to feel the vibrations of movement on the roof. You pivot left, inching forward cautiously. The faint click of a rifle trigger alerts you and you lash out with your claws, slicing uselessly through the fog. But it was nothing but a ruse, as the Widow comes up behind you and stabs you in the neck with a pronged instrument that sends hundreds of volts of electricity through your body. Your muscles seize and you collapse to the ground, seizing uncontrollably.

You’re pretty sure you’ve bitten your tongue off as blood fills your mouth and you start choking, unable to roll to your side to cough it out. The Widow points the muzzle of her at your face, pressing the cold metal tip to your forehead. You bare your teeth in a vicious snarl, wishing you could will control back into your body to slash her throat out.

“Good night, mutt,” the Widow says. 

***********************************************************************

Natasha tucks her mouth and nose into her elbow, charging into the fog while wielding the tiny pocket knife she stole from your apartment. She tackles the Widow with her full bodyweight, puncturing the blade through her vest deep enough that the Widow screams, dropping her gun.  Knocking off the Widow’s mask and pulling her into a tight headlock, Natasha squeezes her arms as tight as she can, counting the number of seconds it takes before the assassin finally stops struggling and slumps to the ground. With watering eyes from the gas, Natasha strips the Widow of her equipment, despite knowing that at her peak, her bare hands would be deadly enough weapons. The gas starts to spread further and further and Natasha can finally see your convulsing body. 

She runs over to you, tentatively yanking the taser out of your neck. You take a huge breath of air, rolling to your side and coughing hard. 

“Thanks,” you mutter as your tongue grows back. Shakily you get to your feet, touching the side of your neck and feeling the jagged openings left by the taser slowly closing. “Where is she? I’m gonna–”

“No. Let’s go,” Natasha intervenes, grabbing onto a handful of your shirt to stop you, like you’re a dog on a leash. You push her away, stomping over to where the Widow is lying motionless. Your claws pop out. She won’t feel anything. 

“Y/N, STOP!” Natasha yells and you freeze, turning to glare at her. 

“They sent her to kill us,” you seethe.

“But she’s not herself,” Natasha begs. “She’s being controlled. You know that. Please don’t kill her. She was just…She was just following orders.”

You clench your fist, the muscles in your forearm rippling as you retract your claws. Natasha gulps and takes a visible step back from you. She’s never seen such rage in your features before, not that it would be unwarranted, but it almost seems like you’re on the verge of completely losing control. Your expression twitches when you smell the fear rolling off Natasha in waves. She’s not afraid of the Widow anymore. She’s afraid of you. 

“Fine. Sorry,” you grunt, backing up. You want to put your claws down your throat for scaring her like this. Your whole life you had fought to convince everyone that you were more than the animal you were born to be. It always felt like a losing battle. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Natasha says. “I said something that upset you.”

“Is that mine?” You’re suddenly distracted by the sight of a small knife poking out of the Widow’s side.

“Uh…” Natasha glances at you sheepishly. “I thought it would come in handy eventually.”

“Hmm.” You don’t dwell on it though, having other things to worry about. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

The parking lot is a jumbled mess as people hurry to leave as emergency vehicles enter the premises. You keep your head down, hoping you’re moving fast enough for no one to notice the few stains of blood on your collar. Natasha races to keep pace with you. She’s barely able to jump into the truck in time before you have it in drive, speeding out of the parking lot. 

“Thank you,” Natasha finally whispers as you merge onto the highway.

“For what?” you grunt, your knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

“For not killing her.”

You make another grunting noise.

“You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not about what she deserves,” you snarl. “She was there to kill me and take you back to the Red Room. Which she failed to do. So if anything, the Red Room will probably kill her–”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Natasha interjects. “The Widows are huge investments. That’s why they want me alive.”

“Well, they don’t really seem to care if you get in their crosshairs of trying to kill me.” You don’t like how your words come out, but it’s too late to take them back now. You know none of this is Natasha’s fault–you were the one who willingly came to her aid, who insisted on driving her across the country, who offered your own friends to help. 

“You don’t deserve this either.” Natasha’s voice drops. She sounds small, and when you side-eye her, she’s curled up in her seat in a way that makes her look small too. You frown. “You were just trying to be a decent person, and now you’ve had your life threatened several times, you had to leave your home, you’re being chased across the country–”

“Stop it,” you interrupt. “If this is the consequences of my actions, then so be it. I’d do it again a thousand times for you. Because you’re worth it.”

“I am?” Natasha looks at you in disbelief, partially because this is the most emotional she’s ever heard you and partially because she wonders if this is you admitting you have feelings for her.

“Yes,” you confirm, giving her a slight smirk before focusing on the road. 

***********************************************************************

The final stretch of the drive is rough, but you make it. It’s nighttime now and exhaustion weighs on your shoulders from the entire day’s events. You shake Natasha awake as you park on the driveway.

“We’re here,” you say, cutting the lights and turning off the engine. Natasha gets out of the car, gaping at the enormous mansion you’ve stopped in front of. As you walk with her up to the front door, she stops to read the plaque.

“‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,’” she says. “Hang on, this place is a school? Why would you bring us here? You’re putting children in danger, Y/N–”

“Hold on,” you cut her off. “The kids and staff here? They’re just like me.”

“Just like you? Meaning–” Before Natasha can finish her sentence, the front doors swing open and a woman with spiky gray hair appears, throwing herself at you.

“Y/N!” she cries.

“Hey, Ororo,” you mumble, returning her hug with a little less passion. “Sorry to arrive so late. Ran into a little trouble earlier…”

“You made it safely and that’s all that matters.” She pats your shoulders affectionately. “Hi there. I’m Ororo,” the woman introduces herself to Natasha, awkwardly standing off to your side. “But the kids around here call me Storm.”

“I’m Natasha.”

“Please, come in. It’s freezing and I know you’ve both been on the road for days,” Ororo invites. “Your room is all prepped, Y/N.”

You hadn’t even thought to ask her for another guest room, but you have a feeling Natasha won’t mind sharing again. You gesture for her to enter the mansion first. She seems in awe, and a little overwhelmed, that this building had been converted into a boarding school. Maybe later you’ll take her to the basements to show her the other half of the school. 

A man wearing ruby sunglasses despite the midnight hour stands at the bottom of the staircase, a beautiful red-headed woman by his side.

“Jean,” you breathe, almost frozen in her presence.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jean says in a sultry voice that makes your heart beat embarrassingly faster. Natasha feels a prick of jealousy when she sees the way you’re looking at this new woman. 

“Y/N!” the man barks.

“Good to see you too, Scott,” you add, not noticing the way Natasha moves closer to you, almost brushing against your arm. “This is Nat. She’s been traveling with me for the past few days, and–”

“You’re the one who escaped the Red Room,” Scott says, and Natasha cringes.

“Yeah, she is,” you answer, annoyed by his tone of voice.

“And how do we know that we can trust her?” Scott asks.

“Because I trust her.”

There’s a pause while Scott accepts this answer. 

“I just finished heating dinner up for you two. It’s in the kitchen,” Ororo interrupts. She’s the only one thrilled to host guests, you think. 

“Thanks, Ro,” you say.

“Well now that you’re back, Y/N, we actually need a substitute P.E. teacher tomorrow morning,” Scott teases, his arm going around Jean’s waist. “How about filling in, for old time’s sake?”

You raise your arm, extending the middle claw only. Everyone howls in laughter.

“Put that away,” Ororo chastises. “Come and eat now, before the food goes cold.”

You and Natasha start walking after her, but you stop when you hear the whir of wheels, an older bald man zipping up to you in a wheelchair. 

“Professor,” you greet, for the first time taking the initiative to hug, leaning down to embrace him. “Thanks for helping us out. We really appreciate it.”

The man smiles, a twinkle in his eye. “Of course. Welcome back, Y/N.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Hopefully, going to the X-Men was a wise decision on R's part...

Let me know what you think. :) Please leave likes, comments, and reblogs.

[spideydreams00]

Turn the lights off/on

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐲!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Trigger warnings: NSFW, witchcraft and demon invocations, dom!eddie x sub!reader, tentacles, anal sex, oral sex, lose of virginity (reader) dacryphilia, bdsm, corruption kink, unprotected sex, dubcon (it’s actually dark), oral sex (male r) non accurate descriptions of witchcraft, use of “Y/N”, reader has female anatomy, hints of YN getting bullied at school. lemme know if i forgot something. (Let’s ignore “Kas” is from dnd please) (reader is +18)

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬.

(𝐠𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞) (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝)

Usually loneliness didn’t bother you, to be honest not much things bother you, maybe the girls that pull your hair as hard as they can but it’s not their fault, you should know better than to wear your hair down in front of them. Then there’s the guys, they never try to hangout with you either, to scared that you’ll cast a spell on them but brave enough to pick on you, “it’s none sense” you think

Of course you were aware of your “not so common” hobbies, how much they bothered everyone around, you mommy doesn’t know how to talk to you and daddy doesn’t even bother anymore “they’re bussy” you think

You grew to love nature, the sound of the rain and coldness of the wind are better company than any of your classmates at this point “that must be why no one likes me, for having those thoughts” selfish selfish girl

Anyways, that was yesterday, you shrugged at the thoughts and continued to look through the bookcases, most of them are too tall for you to reach and you’ll certainly won’t ask for help, hopefully something interesting will be there for you able to reach or not, until…. “THE UNDEAD AND ENTITIES” caught your eyes “bingo” you beamed until you read the rest of the title “Advanced witchcraft” well, here’s the thing, you’re not an exceptional witch that comprehends everything but hey! You casted a “self love spell” yesterday, this must be on the same level. Confidence is everything.

You grabbed the book and sprinted to “Susan” the librarian, she just made an annoyed sound and sighed (completely unsurprised).

To eager to get home you sprinted towards the exit until you almost slipped, the floor was wet “hmm?” It started raining and you didn’t even noticed silly silly girl.

By the time you got home your hair was soaked and your rubber boots covered in mud, dirty foot prints on your carpet but your excitement was way stronger than they worry you felt for you to actually do something, when you got to your room you stumped into the edge of your vanity, “fudge!” You cried, great, now you have a bruised hip how ever that wasn’t the important, you were more interested on the book you just dropped, it opened itself into a page the legend “Kas” was all you could read until you took a closer look.

You traced your finger over his photo “pretty” you thought this man- demon was indeed pretty, his long brown locks looked silky in the picture, he appeared to have red eyes and his skin looked gray-ish but not so much, he had tattoos and pretty factions adorning his face, if he wasn’t a demon he could be an angel or a god, “Ironic” you thought….

Finally you began to read the instructions. Salt, candles, black obsidian, 3 drops of your blood… Yeah yeah you have all of those things thank god again ironic, you traced the salt circle and pinched your finger with a needle, dropping 3 drops in your chalice and positioned the obsidians how the instructions said…

Kas

Kas

Kas

Nothing happened, you’re not sure what to expect, but absolutely not nothing! You heard the wind chimes and sighed, “well maybe it doesn’t work” you groaned and began to retire each of the items from it’s place and when you finished you sat on your vanity “why didn’t the ritual work?” Of course you were frustrated, were you a bad witch? At this point you’re not even sure it your self love spell worked too

“Why the sad face?” You heard a voice say, and when you looked in the mirror there he was.. he- that- thing- man sitting on your bed looking at you though the mirror..

“Shit!” You cried “okay it fucking worked you thought” god you don’t even swear! Wait, god?

“I’ve seen really fucked up places doll face, like really fucked up places, but i have never been invoked in a room like- this…” he judged the pink wall paper of your walls

“I’m sorry im sorry!” Pathetic little cries came out from your mouth not so brave now right? The stranger tried to take a closer look to you making you fall from your vanity chair landing on the hard floor with a thud… it made him chuckle. “Please please, don’t hurt me” he chuckled and hovered over you “why am i here doll?” He asked again caressing your soft thighs with his claws, they were sharp, but not to sharp to instantly tear you apart.

“J-just wanted t-to practice” you pleaded “practice what?” He asked sternly “R-rituals?”

He smirked, god what a pretty girl, he haven’t had much action in decades, he noticed the way you looked at him you were afraid of course, but also intrigued

“P-please��” you sounded defeated and he began to sniff you neck, taking a deep breath inhaling the scent of your perfume and your shampoo blending with fear and lust god you smell fucking perfect

“Are you scared?” You nodded. “Then why are you wet?” He asked

Shhh he cooed and you heard a slimy sound… he has tentacles hollyshit “What’s your name?” He asked “Y-y/n” you said and then you felt his tentacle began to rub little circles over your panties (skirt for easy access) the rubbing motions making your panties wet and not entirely because of you, his tentacles are wet themselves, he pressured harder making you whimper

“Does your pretty little clit feel good princess?” He asked and you cries in pleasure “it’s puffy already princess, do you neglect it? Don’t you treat your pussy right?” fuck

The only thing you can do is moan and cry in pleasure when you feel the tip of his other tentacle rubbing circles in your entrance “messy girl” “gonna put it in, gonna put the tip in” he said making you clench in anticipation, your gummy walls hugged him just right feeling the texture of his tentacles drag inside you

“I’m a v-virgin” you cried in pleasure. “well, not anymore sweetheart” he smirked and pushed his tentacle all the way inside you making you cry out in both pain and pleasure “f-fuck so tight pussy’s made for me” the soaping sounds your body was producing were addicting his eyes locked in you even though your eyes were rolling back into your head, he noticed the lack of a bra under your top now your hard and sensitive nipples were pressing against it

He pinched them through your top with his index finger and his thumb making you yelp “Y-yes! Yes more please!” Your high pitched moans drove him insane “gonna give it hard to you whore” his tentacle inside you began to fuck you faster, harder, slamming into you so hard it kissed your cervix, it hurts but the motion of his other tentacles rubbing your clit felt so good.

Then another tentacle appeared making his way around your torso and holding you in place “how does it feel bunny? You look so cute all cock drunk, well tentacle drunk” he chuckled “G-g-good ff-feels good” you babbled, he started to palm the huge bulge in his pants moaning “fuckin’ h-hell bitch got me all worked up, all because that tight little pussy-“ he noticed that way you were clenching on him and the louder your moans got “filthy thing you’re gonna cum” he angled his tentacle so now he was hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the one that makes you see stars, the one you never reach when you touch yourself late at night and hump your stuffies, then you feel it, you’re gonna piss- oh no oh no

“Stop! G-gonna- need to” “Just fucking cum!” he growled… and it was inevitable the pressure on your abdomen ceased and white hot pleasure invaded your body making you see spots, you’re soaked and your body is vibrating “Yes! Yes! Yes! Gonna fucking breed you, gonna be stuffed to the brim bitch- you f-fucking BITCH!-“ he growled, pleasure invading his body, it was too much for you, you tried to move back, away from his delicious tentacles but he grabbed your hips holding you in place that’s gonna leave a mark

Then you feel it…. Not only your second orgasm but his… the first rope of his seed “Oh-my-“ he starts but it’s interrupted by his own moans you’re crying and his moans are so hot and needy, animalistic, he’s cumming so much, enough to feel a chalice at least, he’s pumping you full of his cum “M-milk me- Milk me!” He gasps for air but you’re cumming too, clenching so hard against him making it impossible for both your orgasms to stop…

Both your moans ceased and his arms are tightly wrapped around you, his tentacle still there too, you tried to catch your breath and his head rested on the crook of your neck, it felt peaceful but it didn’t last long “Need more of you princess, need another hole” he croaked

Before you could protest he flipped you onto you stomach, now in all fours he splits your legs apart, his tentacles wrapping around your ancles, he pushes your tits out of your top too

“Look at these baby fuck” he rasped and pinched your nipples again, this time also massaging your tits. You were still trembling, tears falling from your pretty eyes, he was so fucking hard, balls blue even his dick hasn’t been in you just yet, only his tentacles that had filled you with cum too… the tentacle in your pussy moved again but slowly and you cried, over sensitive, the other one applied pressure on your clit again but didn’t move, the one thats wrapped around your torso starts to play with your nipples, flipping and rubbing them, just like the one thats on your clit.

You feel another one “fuck” you think, its sliding all the way from your calf to your ass to your tight rim, it’s circling it, making it wet, just like lube would do

“Is this little hole a virgin too sweetheart?” He asked smugly “Your pussy- fuck sweetheart, she’s the best I’ve ever had” you wanted to feel proudly but too deep into submission to even think about yourself, Kas is your master now “All of me K-Kas… I’ve n-never done anything with any-anyone” you said

“Hmm?” Cute he thought “Fuck doll, even that pretty little mouth?” He chuckled and you nodded, this time proudly, it all made sense now, you’ve always been his that’s why life turned this way

He kept circling your rimm with his tentacle and tried to test the waters by dipping just the tip in… again the texture driving you insane. You whimpered at the sensation and felt him slide deeper into you, this time making you cry out, both pleasure and pain

The tentacle in your pussy began to move faster

“You’re gonna be a slut for me aren’t you baby? Might been a virgin a few minutes ago but look at you now… the dirtiest slut I’ve ever seen, so full of my cum. Don’t worry baby, i have more for you, gonna be stuffed”

“I’m your slut Kas, all yours” you cried and it felt so unnatural to talk like this but not displeasing “Eddie” he said

“W-what?” You asked “It’s fucking Eddie!” He growled and pushed the tentacle all the way into your ass making you fucking cry, the tears falling from your eyes making him want to fuck your harder, everything he has was slamming into you faster Harder He got rougher

Now you were crying and panting like a bitch in heat your mouth fell open and it was too late for you to protest when you felt another tentacle sliding into you mouth muffling your moans, cries and whimpers, it was too much, but it felt so good

“Fuck!” Eddie cried in pleasure, you didn’t know and he wouldn’t tell you but you were overstimulating him. How was it possible that a human was making him feel this good?

The tentacle slides trough you throat fucking it, the other one pistons into your ass and your pussy is nothing more than a fleshlight he’s fucking roughly… the circles in your clit we’re erratic now, faster than your fingers will ever allow you to go and your nipples? Oh god your nipples… You think you can cum only from the way he’s playing with them

Your eyes are rolled back and at this point you’re squirting, soaking everything and cum falls from your pussy making a little puddle on the floor

You can’t let him know you’re gonna cum… how?

“B-baby baby-“ he cried “gonna make me cum g-good girl? I’ll breed you okay? Gonna let me breed you?” Its a rhetorical question, even if you don’t want him to, he’ll do it, he’ll fucking do it

It’s building in you again, it’s too good it’s too much and you can only hear the wet sounds your body is making You cry again in pleasure and everything went white… your vision the only thing you hear now is…

“I’m cumming! Fucking whore I’m cumming!” Your tears blur your vision but you feel all the cum filling all your little holes… a literal cum dump

it’s over it’s over….

You feel him collapse on top of you, his whole weight into you is welcomed and you feel all the tentacles leave your holes slowly

You’re covered in sweat and so is he, it’s too sticky to be comfortable and you try to move but-

“Shhh shhh” he cooed “Don’t move baby, let me have this” you noticed the huge wet patch on his pants he came untouched your breath calmed down and he picked you up gently and placed you on your bed “Eddie” you rambled, the dizzy look on your face letting him know you were still tentacles drunk

“Fucking precious little thing” he growled, “I’ll come back later okay? You’re too interesting to let go now” He kissed your forehead and disappeared leaving you all sticky on your bed

Fuck

[paperstorm]

Kicking things off with a little scene from 4x18 that I've had saved in my drafts for months, in the spirit of some of us rewatching the season 4 finale on Monday :)

-

“Don’t,” he mutters harshly, the second he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Carlos,” TK practically whimpers.

Carlos looks at him. Tk’s eyes are bright and sparkling with tears. He presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his chin as tears drip down off his own face and fall to the floor.

TK whispers, “Baby.”

Carlos shakes his head. TK’s been calling him that for so long. Carlos has loved it every time and strived to be worthy of it, and right now it’s like nails on a chalkboard. He'll never hear Carlitos or mijo in his father's deep timbre again.

Suddenly TK is in front of him, hands touching his biceps and then arms being tossed around his neck, pulling him into a hug. The dam completely shatters; Carlos’s shoulders shake as his body is wracked with violet sobs. He grasps helplessly at the back of TK’s shirt, clutching him, keeping TK close because without him to lean on Carlos thinks he would be in a heap on the concrete floor along with his tears.

“I know,” TK murmurs, stroking his hair, his cheek, the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” Carlos forces out as another flood of tears soaks TK’s shirt.

“Nothing. You don’t need to do anything, baby, you just …” TK cups his cheek, gently nudges Carlos’s head up so their blurry eyes can meet.

TK’s are red rimmed and his cheeks are blotchy, and Carlos is sure his own face is covered in mucus and wetness and shame. He aches down to the marrow of his bones with the fact that he can’t ever remember his father being sweet and silly with him. Carlos would give everything – every penny in his bank account, anything else the universe wanted to steal from him – to replace his memories of years of quiet disapproval and unspoken disappointment with the version of his father who spoke in a terrible Australian accent to make Carlos laugh. He wants to buy a fireproof safe to keep that VHS tape in so that he can watch it every day for the rest of his life, and he wants to drop it onto the sidewalk outside and smash it to bits with a hammer so he never has to watch it again.

He wonders when it stopped, when Gabriel turned stoic and serious and withholding. He wonders if it was all in his head, if he can’t even trust his own memories because they’ve been warped and twisted by too many years of his own insecurity – everyone is so insistent that his father loved him, so maybe Carlos is the problem, if he can’t seem to remember a time when that felt true. Maybe he wasted the only years he’d ever get on pride and stubborn arrogance, and now his papá is gone.

“Do you remember the night my mom died?” TK asks.

Carlos nods miserably. Neither of them will be at their wedding. The thought scrapes away at his insides.

“We sat right there, right on that couch, and you held me while I sobbed. That’s what we should do.”

“It won’t make anything better.”

“No. It won’t.” TK kisses the damp side of his face. “But neither will anything else, right now. So just let me be with you while it sucks. We’re soulmates, remember?”

The word unzips Carlos even further and he feels his face crumpling, tipping forward so his forehead bumps painfully into his fiancés.

“Say it,” TK urges gently.

“You’re my soulmate,” Carlos repeats, the words feeling monotonous and not tasting as sweet as they should.

“You’re the love of my life. I’m so heartbroken that you’re hurting this much. I can’t take it away but I can hold you. Please let me.”

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh

@bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh

@captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@ditheringmind @emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[espinosaurusrexex]

Refuge - a small town crime/love story

BuckyBarnes/WinterSoldier x Detective!Female!Reader

summary: You had a track record of cracking tough cases, but this one proved to be your breaking point. The Winter Soldier was out there, thirsting for blood, operating in total anonymity, and leaving a trail of bodies in the cold Colorado snow. Then, just as a snowstorm was about to paralyse the town, Bucky Barnes appeared on your doorstep – lost, sweet, and in dire need of help. It all seems too good to be true, but what happens when his secrets come to haunt him and Bucky’s blurred past reveals a predicament neither of you saw coming?

a/n: yeah I've been a sad bitch these days...

word count: 7k

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, killing and dying (as well as vague descriptions), probable misuse of police ranks (I don’t know how it works), little use of “Y/N” (like two times), language, a lot of angst and fluff, soft!Bucky, a hint of touch starved!Bucky, no happy ending, smut (unprotected p in v, soft!smut) !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

I recommend playing the songs linked in the text - I listened to them a lot while writing 🧡

Long streaks of crimson soaked the innocent snow beneath your feet.

Whatever happened, it had done so quick. The streaks turned into clumsy blotches and soon there would be evidence of a tired body dragging itself through the inches of snow in vain. 

It was too late. You were too late yet again. 

Sam threw his hat in the snow with a frustrated groan, his fist clenching so tight you actually heard it pop. 

“He’s doing it again,” the officer pressed past his stiff lip, “he’s messing with us.”

“Maybe this time he’s actually gotten sloppy.” Your eyes trained on the dark red contrasting the white.

Something was different about this one. But The Winter Soldier never left his victims capable of running away more than 10ft - it wasn’t his style. So why did this one make it past the tree line?

“Don’t try to sweet talk it, Y/L/N, he knows that we’re on his tracks. And he’s doing this to prevent us from finding him out once and for all.”

Sam’s pessimism could really annoy you sometimes, but it did help solve most of your cases in the past - it turned out that considering the worst-case scenario almost always brought you to the truth. Nevertheless, there was still something off. And you were determined to find out what it was this time. 

You turned around and made your way back to the car where blue and red lights silently snook through the woods before you finally turned them off. 

“I’m tired of this shit. What are we going to tell Sheriff Rogers? I’m pretty sure he’s about to kick us off the case anyway.” Sam gruffly entered the passenger seat with a frown. He was pissed, and you couldn’t blame him. 

“We’re not telling him anything.”

“And how would that work?”

“Just let me talk.” The tires screeched on the tar before you sped out of the woods. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Cold. So, so fucking cold.

Bucky’s teeth were cluttering. He didn't know where he was. Nor did he know how he had gotten there. There was barely anything he remembered, really. The past two hours were how far his memory reached and after that? Everything blank. Not blank entirely though. There was fear and darkness but no images, no faces, just unease. 

He stumbled past the trees and over roots hiding beneath the thick layer of snow that had accumulated even in the forest. His surroundings looked familiar, but he didn’t know why. His feet, however, seemed to guide him exactly where he needed to be. He didn’t think, just let them be. His hands were aching from the cold, he couldn’t feel them anymore, and his lungs hurt with every icy cold breath. Dusk was already breaking past the horizon, and when the darkness would take over completely, Bucky would be done for.

After another ten or twenty minutes - he really couldn’t tell - Bucky could make out a house sitting at the edge of the woods. There was smoke coming out of the chimney and rising past the threes. The sight alone warmed him a little bit, but his legs were quick to remind him how frozen he really was. He stumbled the distance until he landed on the doorstep.

This was a really bad idea. But then again: he was going to die out here. 

His knuckles jammed against the wooden door, and it made pain shoot up his entire arm. But his left one was hurting even more. His whole body was - well... the parts he could still feel.

❁ ❁ ❁

You opened the door, but nothing could have prepared you for what you found. There was a man kneeling on your doorstep. His fingertips peeking out of cut cloves trembling from the cold, his lips broken with blood by the harsh winter wind now nipping on your bare toes as well. The warm light from inside your house illuminated his face and what you saw could have only been described as distress. Eyes laced with fear and helplessness, the man looked up at you. There were snowflakes clinging to his lashes, face pale and lifeless. 

“Please,” was the only thing he whispered, but his voice was weak and it made your heart plummet. 

“What... what happened?” You stood frozen at the door, bewilderment seeping through your body. 

“I-“ But his teeth were cluttering so much you could barely make out his words. You looked past him into the woods and then down the lonely street leading to your house. Nobody there. Another look to the little table by the door, where your gun was hidden. He seemed to be unarmed, too weak to fight, anyways. 

God, you hated how your instincts made you check through the whole situation, making the poor man die in the cold outside. But when you were done, and your eyes swayed back to his frame, you exhaled slowly and opened the door a little wider. 

“Come in.”

“Th- Thank you- u.” He dragged his tired body over the threshold and crawled to the fireplace crackling in the living room. 

You just stood still, closing the door after swiping the woods and the road one more time, and watched him tremble by the fire. After a while - he had stopped shaking - you approached him and he looked at you like a deer in headlights. When he noticed you weren’t doing anything but standing there, he faced the fire again and - that’s when you saw it: dark red staining the back of his head and sticking to his shoulder-long hair. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but he had definitely gotten a good hit.

“Sir, you need a doctor.” Your hand reached for the phone but he was quick to stop it. His ice-cold touch made you shiver.

“No, no doctor.” His eyes looked at you intently, switching left and right. “Please... I just need to warm up. And then I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

You were staring again. Shocked, confused? Something like that. This man wouldn’t be leaving soon, there was a blizzard already hitting the state lines, and it would be here by midnight.

“Please... no doctor.” His voice was only a whisper now but it pushed through to you more than before.

“...no doctor.” He nodded slowly, relaxing a bit. “But... you are bleeding.”

“I’m okay.” He wasn’t. This man was anything but. Though, somehow, he had this weird aura about him that made you want to stay close to him. You weren’t scared or creeped out - you were... intrigued.

Your head dipped to the side. “Who are you?”

He hesitated. “Bucky.”

“What’s your last name?”

“I... I don’t know.” He looked defeated - stressed - but you deserved answers.

“What happened?”

“I-” he looked up again, pain evident in his stare before he closed his eyes. “…don’t know.”

A nod of your head in understanding. He must be tired, exhausted. You’d leave it for now.

“Would you at least let me clean your wounds?” If they were really as bad as they looked you wanted to get him to a hospital before the blizzard hit. Bucky nodded hesitantly but he didn’t move when you inched closer to take a look at his head. 

The wounds weren’t that bad. All the blood in his hair made it look a lot worse, but he still needed stitches. He sat quietly as you carefully threaded the needle through his scalp. It wasn’t perfect but it would do. 

Bucky didn’t make a sound, not even when you accidentally slipped and poked him, he was quiet. 

“You can take a shower if you like - get all that blood off and warm up completely,” you finally whispered when you cut the last thread. All the other cuts on his face merely needed cleaning and the bruises were already forming, so there was really nothing you could do. 

“It’s okay. I won’t be staying any longer.”

But when he moved to get up, it was your turn to stop him. “Do you have somewhere else to go?”

“I’ll manage.”

“You’ll die. Blizzard’s already hit north.”

“I couldn’t stay.”

“You can.” Your hand sank when you noticed he wasn’t making a run for it. “At least until the storm passes.” He just nodded again but a hint of relief flushed through his orbs.

“Clean up, change. I have some clothes that will fit you. The bathroom is the first door on the left.”

Bucky followed your orders and disappeared into the bathroom without another word. You headed to your dresser to get the sweatpants and Hoodie Steve had always stored in there. He wouldn’t miss them, he didn’t stay the night anymore. But now it would serve another purpose.

You made your way back to the bathroom and gave Bucky the clothes, though the door wasn’t closed all the way and you could see the sliver of skin peeking through the crack. His back was littered with red streaks, most likely whip marks, and his left shoulder was scattered in bumpy scarring. He had a metal arm and that was about all you could see before willing your eyes away.  

Your gaze wandered to his jacket hanging over the chair and your fingers itched to know more. He was a stranger in your house, after all. A stranger you had chosen to trust, though. But your hands were searching through the pockets before that thought was finished. They were all empty. No wallet, nothing. All you found was a black mask and several compartments for weapons - all empty as well, though.

You exhaled. Who are you, Bucky?

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky let the hot water run down his body. He looked at his left arm, the water hitting with drumming sounds and then repelling from its surface. Despite his lack of memory, he didn’t think it strange that an entire limb of his was missing, well kind of. It was okay - as if he had already coped with it somewhere in the past. The scars didn’t scare him either, or the red lines on his back. They were just there - accepted or not - unbothered. 

He closed his eyes and let the water fall on his face. Flashes of a fight lighting before his eyes. Torn between intrigue and horror, it was as if he had opened them.

Please! I’m begging you, please! God, please!

He was back. And the shampoo washed from his face in white bubbles. It smelled good. Like you.  

Bucky spent another minute under the water before stepping out and looking into the mirror again. What was he even doing? Dragging an innocent woman into this mess - whatever it was. 

His hand ran down his face and the towel hung low on his hips when he reached for the clothes you gave him. They were soft and fit him perfectly. 

It wasn’t long until he stepped out into your warm living room again. There was a pillow and blanket on the sofa now, and it looked more inviting than Bucky had seen in a while - at least it felt that way. He didn’t say much when he sat down carefully, feeling the soft comforter under his skin, and watched as you handed him a glass of water. 

“I’m right down the hall if you need anything.”

He just nodded.

“Will you be okay?”

He nodded again. But Bucky didn’t know if he was going to be okay. He was confused and scared and surprised you offered him shelter even though you knew nothing but his name. What a kind woman you were. 

You smiled sadly as you shut off the light, leaving Bucky to sink his head into the fluffy pillow. The flickers of flames in the fireplace danced on his skin when he closed his eyes, falling into a well-needed and dreamless slumber.

❁ ❁ ❁

He woke to the sound of dishes clinking the next morning, stretching and catching a new fire with his eyes before he peeked over the backrest of your sofa to your kitchen. He was more rested than he’d felt in a long time. And he didn’t know if it was the sheer exhaustion that had him fall asleep so quickly yesterday, or if, maybe, it had been the faint smell of lavender your sheets hosted. Either way, he smiled when he got up, and it felt a little strange to do so. 

“Good morning, Bucky.” You beamed over the stove where some eggs were sizzling, making his stomach grumble. 

“Good morning,...” He still didn’t know your name. But it was strange to ask now that he had already slept in your home. 

You chuckled as your name passed your lips and Bucky’s lips lifted into another small smile. 

You ate in silence then. There wasn’t much Bucky had to say and you didn’t seem to be chatty. Bucky didn’t mind. This, your house, had a certain serenity to it. The faint crackling of the fireplace, the homey smell of breakfast in the air, and the rioting storm pouring in soft flakes around it. It felt peaceful and calm and safe - even if he didn’t know who you were... even if he didn’t know who he was.

The day went by peacefully. At one point, Bucky explored your house. It wasn’t big, but full of memories, he could tell. There were pictures everywhere - some of people, some of places. Souvenirs, crafted things. Smiling faces stared at him as he carefully inspected the mantel pieces and something akin to sadness pulled on his heart. Bucky wished he had memories - ones like you did. Ones with happy people and gifted bookmarks. He was sure he did... somewhere. He was someone, right? He just didn't know how to pull that someone back. 

It was strange because he had memories. Faint ones. Some that didn’t feel right. His childhood was completely blocked out. He had tried to remember, and things came back to him in tiny pieces. This night he remembered his last name. Barnes. But then his mind associated it with strange callings of his name - urgent, demanding, unfriendly. It didn’t feel nice - none of his memories did. 

His finger drove over the small picture of a dog and then he smiled. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You sensed Bucky standing at the door as your head hung low above the desk scattered with pictures and leads. You didn’t bother hiding it from him though. Your house was small - it was almost impossible to hide things properly, especially if the days you spent snowed in kept being as quiet and boring as this one. Bucky was curious. He didn’t show it much but you notice the way his eyes scanned the room, how his brows twitched upon your frame above the files. He would catch a glimpse sooner or later. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Bucky wrung his hands. “Am I interrupting?” 

He watched as you shook your head, tracing the rim of your empty beer bottle. Careful steps approached you and then he stood behind you, a tense breath resealing when he most certainly took read through the reports. Except, he didn’t. When you turned, you watched him scan the decor on the walls. 

And he didn’t stop until you called his name.

“Yes?” His eyes were piercing even in the dim lamplight - they were pretty. 

“Is there something you need?”

He looked a little started at your question, his hands still kneading beneath him. It was hard to believe someone as tall and built as him could be shy - but here he was.

“I just wanted to... uh...” He avoided your eyes. “I remembered my last name.”

You smiled, a small jump in your heartbeat sneaking past you. “Oh, that’s great.”

“Yeah.”

“So what is it?”

“What?”

“Your name.”

“Oh, Barnes, Bucky Barnes.” He smiled. “And I also wanted to thank you... for being so kind.” He got shy again. 

But you stood and smoothed your hands over his shoulder, feeling him relax a little. “I’m just glad you are okay.” 

“Still, it’s not a given and I won’t take it for granted. So, thank you.”

There was a short silence in which he just looked at you and you wondered what else there was to discover about this extraordinary man before you. You could tell there was so much history and depth behind the ocean blue orbs focusing on you, so much more not even Bucky Barnes could access yet, and that made it all the more intriguing. 

Bucky shifted again, and then suddenly yet carefully, leaned in to encase you in an awkward hug. It warmed your heart from the inside out, but It didn’t last long before you could feel the tension return to his back. 

He pulled back, disturbed. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” His eyes were everywhere but on you. “I’ll let you work.” And then he stumbled past you and out the door as you stood and watched him leave, turning back to your desk to see the array of crime-scene photographs littered on its surface. 

❁ ❁ ❁

The hallway was spinning when Bucky made his way back to the living room. 

A heavy body fell to the snow, hands shielding features, scrambling backward on the harsh white ground.

“Please! I’m begging you, please! God, please!”

Bucky’s metal hand collided with a face, releasing a loud cracking sound. There was so much blood. So much fucking blood. 

The room seemed to cave in. His chest rapidly rising and falling, Bucky made his way to the kitchen where he fell through the backdoor into feet of snow. The cool on his face calmed him down immediately, hitting him like the memory of it had done. He stayed there for a while, just enjoying the silence of the storm and letting the weather tie him to the ground.

That’s what he needed. A reminder, something to ground him, tell him how vulnerable he was, that there was still something human left in him.

His jaw clenched when he scrambled up again, skin burning from the ice piercing through the air. He was okay, he told himself, he was fine.

He shook his head and made his way to the little hut in the backyard, where he took your axe and began chopping firewood. A little distraction would do him good.

❁ ❁ ❁

After a simple dinner, you retreated to the sofa. Bucky hadn’t talked to you a lot and he felt a little bad you were stuck with him for another day due to the storm. But you never lost a word about it. In fact, you acted so naturally about it, as if he were a frequent visitor in your cozy retreat, one he had grown to associate with comfort and warmth in the short time being. 

“What’s your favorite movie?” You crossed your legs next to him. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky didn’t even remember watching movies ever. And it made him sad.

“Favorite genre?” You tried again. But Bucky just shrugged with a tight-lipped smile. 

“I like rom-coms.” You smiled and Bucky noticed yet again how easy it was to spend time with you. 

The TV began to play a generic song, but Bucky was too occupied looking at you. He couldn’t remember but he felt as though he had not experienced this sort of kindness in a long time, and it warmed his heart. But in the back of his mind, there was always that feeling of betrayal lurking in the dark. Because he began to remember things - things that lay not too far in the past and that were horrible, unspeakable really. 

He had not pieced them together just yet. Just snippets of memories, pieces of conversations rushing through his mind when he was triggered. And it scared him a little bit. But he didn’t want to lay his burden on you. 

“You’re not even paying attention.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you tired? We can stop the movie if you-“

Bucky shook his head. “No.” He smiled, not wanting you to leave yet.

“Okay.” You whispered before turning to the TV with a smile. As did Bucky. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky woke with an unusual amount of peace. He felt warm and comfortable - well-rested too. The fire was lazily puffing in the chimney and the TV was off. But there was something, or rather someone else he noticed. He looked down, his eyes landing on your frame, tightly tugged to his body. You weren’t cold, even though the room had cooled significantly since last night, and your face looked so peaceful - unbothered. The sight did weird things to his heart. But his response to it was to sling his arms around you tighter, and for the first time in a while, Bucky felt as though he was protecting something rather than threatening it. 

A smile snuck on his lips unawares. You stirred, but neither of you loosened their grip. 

“Good morning.” Your head disappeared into his chest again.

“Mornin’” he could feel your frown through his shirt.

For some reason, it just felt natural to stay like this. Neither Bucky nor you moved for a while. You just lay there - not talking, not sleeping - enjoying the calm morning, even though Bucky could see the snowflakes rioting outside the living room window. 

His hand dragged up and down your back and you sighed. 

“What are you doing today?”

You pulled back a little, watching him, contemplating something - he could see it. 

“I...” You trailed off, but Bucky stayed silent. 

“You know what?” His eyebrows raised as you scrambled off the sofa and extended your hand toward him. “Come with me.”

And he did. You lead him to your office and Bucky was reluctant at first. The last time he was here he had a panic attack. But your hand was still in his, and it calmed him. 

“I’ve been working on a case for some time now... but I’m stuck.” You moved to the desk and Bucky followed. “There’s been a murderer tormenting the town for weeks, driving the whole department crazy. I’ve been looking at these files for days. Maybe a fresh set of eyes can help.”

“You... you want me to help you?” This was new. 

“Bucky,” your hand landed on his arm and his eyes were glued to the interaction, “we’re stuck in here for at least another day. Why not be productive? And who knows? Maybe you’re able to help me solve this case.” You smiled.

But he was still hesitant.

“That guy killed my partner’s sister. Anyone that can help us even in the slightest is welcome”

He gulped. “Okay, alright...”

You sat down at the desk, spreading out pictures, handing him files, and explaining what you had gathered so far. Bucky listened attentively. And even though he was a little scared to look at the pictures again, he warmed up to the process you guided him through. Everything was labeled and put to memos. 

The process and the document brought him a weirdly familiar feeling but Bucky shoved it off to the side - after a while, even enjoying the puzzle you laid before him. 

“This one is unusual... why did this victim get so far?” He mumbled. 

“Maybe he’s messing with us...”

“Or he was interrupted,” he stated plainly as he grabbed another picture. 

You were silent then, and Bucky looked up at you to find you smiling across the files littered on the floor. “You must have some sort of experience, those are some good observations.”

Bucky shrugged. Whoever he had been in the past was yet to be revealed to him, but he did admit that tactical thinking came easy to him.

“Also this,” he pointed at the latest crime scene photo, “these tracks are inconsistent. Normally, he attacks from the left. But here it’s all over the place. Something must have happened to make him stop and change tactics.”

“Something like...?”

“Maybe he got a hit himself. You said the forensic scientist approximated quick deaths. The Winter soldier always kills precisely.”

You nodded. “One hit and they're done for.”

“That takes a high amount of skill. There are not a lot of things that can interrupt these tactics. Except, if he wasn’t capable anymore.”

“There were no indications of the victims defending themselves. They never had a chance.”

“Were there no indications or was it just not tested anymore?”

“The blood.” Bucky watched as you sprung up. “There was too much blood. Some of it must be his!”

Attagirl. Bucky couldn’t help it, a proud smile painted his features. He watched as you pressed the telephone to your ear, a faint beeping caught by his ears, and then you frowned. 

“The lines are dead,” you sighed. 

“What are we gonna do now?”

“We have to wait out the storm... There’s no way we’re getting anywhere out there.”

His eyes swayed to the window, where a wall of white soft snow fell unrelenting. He nodded. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were on the sofa again, there was nothing to do. The fire was crackling, and you sat next to Bucky with a cup of tea in hand. 

The case didn’t stop swarming your mind though. You finally had a new lead, a small hint that could lead to a suspect and you had no way of contacting Sam or the Sheriff’s department. There was likely nobody working, anyway. Maybe Steve, he was crazy like that - he’d gone out in unholy weather when you had a fight once, just to give you space. 

Your eyes wandered around the room as your mind went through the case files again, and then, when they landed on Bucky again, a little shiver ran over your skin. 

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Have you... Do you think it’s possible you were the thing interrupting the Winter Soldier?”

He looked at you blankly. 

“You were pretty banged up when you found me.” You didn’t try to insinuate anything, you were just a little worried... and curious. 

“There were no other tracks in the snow, though.” His shoulders slumped. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I just want to-“

His hand found your knee. “I understand.”

And your eyes locked. “Do you not want to know what happened to you?”

“I’ll remember it eventually,” he smiled reluctantly, “right now, I’m actually glad not having to worry about it too much.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don't know... I just prefer your company instead.”

You nodded and bit your lip to stop your smile from spreading. “I’m glad I’m not alone here, too.”

Bucky looked down, hiding his smile in vain.

❁ ❁ ❁

Icy wind whipped around Bucky when he noticed the man lying in the snow in front of him. He was begging, crying, screaming words he couldn’t make out in the storming winds.

And that’s when Bucky realized he was bleeding. Not Bucky, no, the man. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, drawing a growing circle in the snow - growing darker with every drop seeping deeper into the thick white.

So much blood. 

Bucky was confused, and worried, and scared. He didn’t know how he had gotten here, and when he moved to help the man, he scrambled away towards the treeline.

Bucky didn’t follow him. The look of utter fear had shaken him to the bone. What had the man been so scared of? Bucky looked down his body, past the heavy vest to a sleek silver knife wedged between gloved fingers.

He stumbled backward. Almost losing his balance as he sped in the other direction. Away from the man, the blood, the sheer horror of the scene in front of him. What had he done? What was going on?

“You need to wake up!” Bucky’s shoulder shook with your touch. 

Suddenly he shot up, shrugging you off until you landed on your butt next to the sofa. 

He was sweating, heaving, eyes searching the room until he realized that there was no danger and gore around anymore. Just your cozy living room and you. You.

“You’re okay, Bucky. It was just a bad dream.” Your hands were on him again, his covering yours. 

“I’m okay,” he reiterated.

“We’re safe here.” You weren’t. Because Bucky was the Winter Soldier. 

The realization hit him like a truck, his hands immediately retracting from your skin. His heart began to pick up its pace again. The memories flooding his brain overwhelmed him to the point of dizziness. But he couldn’t be close to you. Not after he had done the unspeakable. Not after he had killed your partner’s sister. This had become too personal.

“I need to leave.” He stood up too quickly, swaying dangerously before scrambling past you. 

“You can’t leave yet. It’s horrible outside.” You reached out to him again.

But he shook you off again. “I can’t stay either.”

“Why? What’s the problem?” 

Bucky halted, his shoulders sagging. There was no point in keeping it from you. You would find out anyway. And he would leave either way. It was just fair, you deserved the truth, to know you had sheltered an assassin for days. 

He turned to you with afflicted eyes. “It’s me,” he whispered shamefully, feeling his eyes fill with tears. 

You didn’t ask - just looked at him and swallowed hard. It was crazy how well you had gotten to know each other in the three days you were snowed in. But what was even more unfathomable to Bucky was that you understood. That you knew and didn’t flinch, or scream, or threaten him. 

“I... the... my weapons, they’re buried in the woods. It was me, I did it. They made me do it. They–“ A sob broke through his speech. 

You stood up to touch him but Bucky stepped back with the shake of his head. 

“They can control me,” he uttered and the statement heard out loud made him shiver all over. 

You reached out a third time and this time, Bucky didn’t move. He let it happen when your hands encased his cheeks and your lips laid a soft kiss on his jaw. “It’s fine.” Another kiss. “You’re fine.”

“I’m a monster.”

You shook your head with a teary smile.

“They’ll kill me when they find out.” There was no panic in his tone, he had already accepted his fate. The hard part was saying goodbye to you. 

“I won't let that happen.” Your forehead pressed to his.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not him anymore. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s heart picked up its pace. Somehow, hearing his name from your lips meant so much more than anything else ever could. And with a taste of hope on his tongue, his hands grabbed your face and pressed your lips to his eagerly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You stumbled back but Bucky held you firmly in his grasp. He sighed into the kiss when you began to move your lips in sync with his, a lonely tear rolling over his cheek and stopping at your thumb. 

He was warm and soft, rough around the edges but so sweet. His chapped lips left your mouth; his arms wandered around your body as he held you tightly, face disappearing in the crook of your neck. 

Bucky was so full of affection, and passion, you could feel it in every touch he gifted you. You didn’t know how long he had gone without a kind word, without a reassuring smile, but you knew that you would give it all to him in this moment. 

“Come here.” His puppy eyes squeezed between your hands, he let you guide his face back to yours where you stole another deep kiss from him. 

But you wanted more. Needed to feel him all over - wanted to step into his skin if you could, just to be closer to him. 

You guided him back to the sofa until he fell backward with you pressed against his chest. There was not an inch of space between your bodies as your legs tangled slowly. Bucky groaned when his hand tangled in your hair, a soft nudge pushing you to the side until he was almost hovering over you. 

“You’re cold,” he stated upon feeling over your goosebumps. And then he, somehow elegantly, rolled the both of you off the sofa and to the carpet in front of the fire. 

Your skin was burning deliciously when he removed your shirt carefully, a cool metal hand soothing over the side facing the fire. His hard bulge nudged against your core when his mouth placed soft kisses over your clavicle. Little did he know you weren’t shivering from the temperature in the room, but you wouldn’t protest. 

Your heartbeat quickened with every piece of clothing left discarded around you. Bucky was all over you. Lips, hands, legs - a wild entanglement of limbs surrounded every content moan he gifted you and you loved it. 

Soft warm kisses placed a firm trail down his body as you worked your way to the hemline of his boxers. You removed them with ease, his hands not once leaving your body no matter how grand your movements. He seemed assured when he could feel you beneath his fingertips. 

“Will you stay?” You kissed his hip, hooded eyes looking at him through lashes. 

“Anything for you.” His breath was shaky. You moved to kiss his tip, but as soon as your lips touched his red flesh, “But-“ he pulled you up again. “I need you closer.” He smiled. 

“Okay.” And then your lips were back on his. His fingers danced around your body until they pulled your underwear off as well. 

You parted just to watch as your warm hands guided his tip along your slick folds, his cock witching when he touched your wetness, another shaky exhale escaping his chest. 

His eyes held yours when you lowered yourself until he was fully sheathed by you, a heavenly feeling consuming you with the delicious stretch he gave you.

You moaned in unison when you rolled your hips for the first time. Then another, and another. Until you found a comfortable rhythm that had Bucky bury his strong fingers in your hips, guiding you to meet every thrust of his own. 

Your name rolled over his tongue as his eyes closed and it never sounded as good as this. He stuttered when you squeezed his cock with your walls, chasing your own high as Bucky fought to hold on. 

There was so little talking in this passionate moment but so much felt said at the same time. Every touch of Bucky’s held stories in its wake, every kiss of his lips whispered soft promises to your body. You never wanted to let go again. 

Your hand guided his eyes to yours when you felt your insides squeeze unrelenting. Moans being swallowed by another heated kiss, you rode each other through ecstasy. The overwhelming heat of his body and the fire seemed to swallow you whole when your sticky body collided with his only to have Bucky sling his arms around you again. 

He kissed your head, whispering sweet nothing to your ear before the aftershocks of pleasure fully subsided. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Harsh knocks on the front door ripped you from your desk. You stumbled down the hallway as you tried to get to the intruder faster. 

“Y/L/N open the damn door!” You stopped. It was Sam. What was Sam doing here? The storm had begun to soften, but it was still not totally safe out.

A look to your left showed Bucky standing in the living room looking at you with unease written all over him. He scrambled to the wall on the floor when your hand moved to the doorknob. Sam didn’t know. Nobody knew that there had been a man hiding in your house for three days and it would stay that way... for now. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too.” Sam tried to step forward but you blocked his way. He frowned. “The lines went dead and I needed to show you this.”

Sam pulled a crumbled piece of paper from his jacket pocket, the silver star shining in the white landscape around him. It had stopped snowing this morning, and his truck was probably the only one making it through the streets.

Suddenly, Bucky’s face stared back at you between creased paper. He was wearing an army uniform, a proud smile decorating his features as he held his hat in his hands. “What’s that?” You swallowed hard.

“It’s him.” Sam showed the picture further. “His blood sample DNA is all over the victim.”

“The blood,” you whispered upon stealing a glance at your living room. “What... what are you gonna do?”

“That motherfucker killed my sister. And I am not going to rest until I’ve ended his life just as he did Sarah’s.” Sam tried to hide the raspiness in his voice at his sister’s name, but he failed. 

You couldn’t blame him. Sarah had been a wonderful person. Her death had come unexpectedly for everyone. Nobody could fathom that anybody wished her harm. 

I have his last known location. So are you coming or not?”

“It’s dangerous. The roads are closed off.”

“I don’t care.” You snuck another look to Bucky who was just blankly staring ahead now. He looked tense - frightened. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Sam-”

“Don’t even try. This is ending, now.” He stepped back. “So are you coming?” His eyes were piercing. “...or not?”

You nodded with tight lips, gifting one last reassuring smile to Bucky as you reached around the door to grab your jacket and gun. Sam was already starting the car. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” you whispered only to watch Bucky’s chest heave with panic. “I’m so sorry. I won’t let him hurt you.”

The car honked before you could hear Bucky’s answer, shoulders jerking as your head pulled from behind the door. 

“I’m coming!”

❁ ❁ ❁

“I’m gonna find him, and I’m gonna kill him.” Sam was gripping the steering wheel so tight, you thought it would break. “I’m gonna shoot him in the head, and I’ll watch him die just like he did–“

“Wilson.”

His head snapped to you with fiery eyes. But you were just as upset. The thought of Bucky being killed made you want to throw up. You obviously wouldn’t let that happen. Killing Bucky would do nothing when the actual bad guys were still out there, possibly manipulating a dozen other people into doing their dirty work. Bucky had told you the details he remembered, and it was enough to know that none of it was his fault - and most importantly - that there was a much bigger fish to catch. 

Sam clenched his jaw before looking back to the road. The mist had cleared slightly now. 

“I don’t think killing the Winter Soldier will solve the problem.” You instantly regretted saying that, because Sam slammed the brakes, making the truck slide on the icy road until it came to a stop. He was looking at you again. 

“He killed Sarah. He’s a criminal. A ruthless, cold-hearted serial killer.” There was so much betrayal in his eyes but he averted them again. “Even if I did not have personal reasons... he belongs behind bars at least. But the world would be so much better off if he was just gone.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh, really? Then please enlighten me. Because I would really like to know what made you change your morals.”

“You know, you’re not the only one that found out some things while snowed in,” you snapped and watched your partner look down contritely.

“It’s not just him. And it’s not him we need to stop.” You were careful about your next words - you needed to say them but you had no idea how to explain them. “There’s a whole criminal organization behind- ...behind the Winter Soldier program.”

“How?” His teeth were grinding. “How do you know?”

“I can’t tell you that” yet, you added in thought. Though you weren’t sure Sam would ever understand why you sheltered his sister's murderer in your home.

The car fell silent for a moment. But you swore you could hear Sam’s mind working overtime to decide how he would go about this. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached for the ignition. 

“You’re lucky I trust you,” He muttered before starting the car again, shoulders still tense, and an ever-growing frown on his face. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had taken a good portion of your energy to explain the situation to Sam without revealing your secret. It was hard and tiring, but you had planned a new strategy to approach the case with your partner. And now, several coffees and hours later, when the sun had already set beyond the woods behind your house, you found yourself on your doorstep with a smile. Because you knew that all of it would be forgotten as soon as you had Bucky back in your arms.

“Bucky, I’m home!” You called out before the door fell shut behind you. But there was something different about the place. 

Your eyes scanned the living room - no fire, lights out, and Bucky’s makeshift Bed was neatly stacked by the end of the Sofa. 

You smiled, still, he had probably finally decided to accept your offer to sleep in your bed. 

“Bucky?” You pushed past the bedroom door just to find the room empty as well. 

You frowned. You could have sworn he’d be lying there, waiting for you. But the domestic haze your fantasy cooked up in the few days of isolation the storm had brought you seemed to have clouded your brain. 

You tried the hut in the yard last - without luck. But it wasn’t until you came back into your house, sitting on the neatly made sofa that hosted a journey of emotions through the past days that the revelation hit you like a truck. 

A tear rolled down your cheek as your hands folded in your lap.

Bucky had come into your life like tragedy - sudden and with the force of an avalanche. He had brought you joy, and confusion, and pleasure, and warmth. Bucky had packed a lifetime of experiences and emotions in the span of three days, and then - just like he had appeared - and much like your initial excitement about coming back to him, he had vanished without a trace.

wow... here we are. I've had this in the drafts for a long time and tinkered on it throughout until it turned out this way. I hope you liked it. Please consider showing this post some love (reblog or comment) if you did - it really helps creators on this plattform! Love ya loads ~ℳ❁

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The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 5 (Final)

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! If anyone has any comments, questions, etc, please feel free to say so! I love talking about my stories lol. Thanks to everyone who has followed this story this far!

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex my. Blood. Bondage. Biting. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader. This is dark and quite intense!

Late in the evening of your last night as Sukuna’s offering, he summoned you to the bedroom. You wore the pink robe he’d given you and the shrine maidens had perfumed your hair and lightly painted your lips with a pink glossy color. When you walked into the bedroom, alone, you found Sukuna standing beside the bed, his own robe tied so loosely that the front of it was open down to his waist. His bare torso, with its toned muscles and black tattoos, made your breath hitch.  

“Take off the robe,” he said in that voice that made you melt, “unless you want it to be ruined.”

You slipped it off, still feeling a bit shy about being naked in front of him. He had already seen everything, but you always felt so… inadequate. He was perfect in every way, and you were just a normal woman. But you were getting a bit more used to his eyes roaming over your body, so you folded the robe and laid it on the dresser, then turned to face him. 

He gestured toward the bed, and your eyes shifted over to it. You immediately noticed something that hadn’t been there before. From each of the two wooden posts at the head of the bed, there were thin red ropes attached. You stared at them, wondering about their purpose, until a terrible thought entered your mind. 

You looked at his face, and he was grinning. That’s when your fears were confirmed. 

He stepped closer and placed his hands on your shoulders, slowly sliding them down until they reached your wrists. “Get on the bed so we can start,” he said, rubbing your wrists gently. 

You felt panic rising in your body. What did he plan to do to you that would require him to tie you to the bed? But you couldn’t refuse him, no matter what he asked of you, so you climbed onto the bed and laid on your back. 

Sukuna climbed onto the bed after you, straddling you with his knees on either side of your body. He looked down at you, and his heated gaze caused the growing wetness between your legs to drip out of your folds. You tried to remain perfectly still as he pulled your right arm up above your head and tied the red rope tightly around your wrist, so tightly that the rope rubbed your skin in an unpleasant way. He then tied your left wrist in the same fashion. 

When finished, he stared down at you. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like being completely helpless to my whims and desires?” He hovered over you, his loose robe sliding against your bare skin. “Are you excited, or frightened, by what I might do to you?”

Looking up at him, it was obvious what he was doing. The way he loomed over you, the way his robe fell open, the way he looked at you… he was intentionally turning you on. Your heart was beating rapidly, making your chest rise and fall with your quickening breaths. “Both,” you said in a weak voice. 

He moved down, making sure his body rubbed against yours on the way, and spread your legs with his hands, positioning himself between them. He leaned down so that his face was very close to your soaking wet pussy and used his fingers to open your folds. “Already so wet for me,” he said. Then he moved his fingers around, rubbing everywhere except your clit. 

“You want me to touch it, don’t you?” he asked, his finger moving dangerously close to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves. “This poor little neglected clit. It’s desperate for my attention, isn’t it?”

Your body arched up slightly, trying to get his finger closer to the bullseye. “Yes, please!”

He grinned widely. “Alright. I’ll be merciful and pleasure your clit all night,” he said, making you sigh in contentment, but then he added another comment that made your blood run cold: “But if you cum without my permission, I’ll hurt you.”

You raised your head up from the pillow slightly to look at him with your panic-stricken face. “W-wait!”

He leaned down suddenly and ran his tongue over your clit. The pleasure shot through you like lightning, your hips bucking off the bed as you moaned. “Please wait, Lord Sukuna,” you said, tears filling your eyes. 

He looked up at you, that smug expression on his face. “Beg me to let you cum, and I might show mercy.” With that, he used his thumb to rub over the tender nub, then licked it again. 

You squirmed and whimpered beneath him, completely defenseless with your arms tied above your head. “Please… please let me cum, Lord Sukuna!”

He looked you in the eyes as his thumb kept rubbing over your clit. “Denied,” he said, and you let out a half moan, half sob, your body jerking and thrashing. 

“Please, I beg of you! I can’t bear it!” Your voice was higher than usual, your cries frantic. “Please… please…”

He used his tongue again, the tip of it teasing your clit and even pressing under the hood. 

Your arms pulled against the ropes, burning your wrists. Tears were streaming down your face. “Please, Lord Sukuna… I’ll do anything… just please let me cum!”

“Denied,” he said again, before giving one more long lick and finishing off by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. 

The pleasure was too much. An orgasm rocked your body, making you clench up and cry out. Sukuna raised up to watch you, but his thumb kept stroking your engorged clit mercilessly even as you rode out your climax. 

“You came without my permission,” he said in a low voice. “What a bad girl.”

You were sobbing now. “I’m sorry, my Lord.  Please forgive me!”

His thumb was still rubbing you, and you could already feel the pleasure building. “Now I have to hurt you,” he said, his voice pure silk, “to show you what happens to those who disobey me.”

As you watched with teary eyes, he lifted one of your legs up, bending it at the knee. He pressed his mouth against the plush flesh of your inner thigh and gave it a small kiss before running his tongue over it. Then, while looking straight at your terrified face, he opened his mouth and sank his unnaturally sharp teeth into your thigh. 

Your body jolted, reflexively trying to pull your leg out of his grasp as blood began to weep from the bite and into his mouth. It hurt, badly, his teeth feeling like knives cutting into your skin. You cried out in pain, again pulling against the ropes in a futile attempt to free yourself. 

But perhaps worst of all was that his thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, and now you were on the verge of cumming again. 

He slowly pulled his mouth away, licking up the blood dripping from the red bite mark and giving you the most seductive look you’d ever seen, smiling against your fresh wound. Then, within seconds, his tongue was lapping at your clit again. It was even more sensitive than before, and your whole body was shaking. 

There was a tremor to your voice as you cried out for mercy. “Ahhh… please… allow me to cum….ahhhh!!”

He raised his face to look at you, letting his fingers take over for his tongue. They stroked your nub as he said, “Denied. You’ve already disobeyed me once. Why should I reward you?” The purr of his voice against your spread open pussy nearly sent you into orbit. 

“Please forgive me… ahh… Lord Sukuna! Forgive your pitiful offering… ahhh… for cumming!”

He smiled again as he dove back in, not giving you even a moment of relief. His tongue and lips and fingers were all working together to stimulate you, and before long, another climax hit your body like a boulder. You screamed out, pulling tightly against the ropes, your hips rising and inadvertently pressing up into Sukuna’s mouth, making the pleasure even more intense. 

He stroked your clit through your orgasm again, sending currents of pleasure rippling through you and causing your body to spasm in the bed. Your face was soaked with tears as you looked at him. “Please forgive me…” you murmured weakly. 

He pulled away from you and moved up toward the head of the bed, making sure his bare, muscled torso rubbed across your prone body as he did so. Once he was face to face with you, he licked your lips, then licked tears from your cheek, then moved his mouth to the underside of your exhausted right arm. He held it tightly in one hand and licked the flesh there. You shook your head. “Please… don’t!”

His lips curled back into a smile, showing you his teeth, before he bit into the soft, tender skin. Again, pain flooded your senses. He licked and sucked at the wound, his mouth making obscene sounds right above your head, his body pressed against yours. He was deliberately choosing the most sensitive places to bite, to inflict the most agony. You whimpered and shut your eyes, trying to block it out. 

Then he moved back down, and his fingers were holding your flesh so widely open that it hurt, and his tongue was alternating between battering your now sore clit and gently licking it. Sobs shook you as you kept crying. “Please… please…” was all you could say. 

“Please what? You have to tell me what you want of me,” he said. 

“Please… allow me to cum… Sukuna…”

He stopped for a moment, and your eyes snapped open. You’d called him Sukuna, not Lord Sukuna. You glanced down, afraid to see the anger on his face at this show of disrespect. With you so weak and vulnerable right now, the punishment could easily finish you off. 

But he was just staring at your face, seemingly in wonder. He gave you a strange, unreadable look, then returned to torturing your clit with overwhelming pleasure. You didn’t even have the strength left to jerk and squirm, so your body simply twitched under his hands and mouth as you begged him to let you cum. 

He continued to deny you, and when you climaxed a third time, you laid there under him, panting, pleading for forgiveness in a small voice.  

He moved up your body again, and this time he extended his tongue to lick one nipple before wrapping his lips around it. You looked down in disbelief, then shook your head frantically again. “Please, no!”

Another smile crept over his features as he turned his face toward yours. “What was it you told me in the bath earlier?”

Your eyes widened, then slammed shut again. 

His voice drifted up to your ears. “Tell me again, and I might have pity on you.”

“Please don’t make me say it, Lord Sukuna,” you whimpered, trying to turn your face away. 

“Oh? Why not? Was it a lie?”

You opened your eyes and looked at his face. “No! It wasn’t a lie! It’s just…”

He took your nipple into his mouth again, licking it gently. “Just what?” 

“Ahh… it’s just… I know a pitiful offering like me… isn’t allowed to love you… my Lord…”

He pulled himself up so that he could say into your ear, “Just for tonight, I’ll allow it. Now say it again if you want my mercy.”

You looked at him in shock, but he was already sliding back down, his mouth encasing your breast. 

“Lord Sukuna, I love you!”

Just then, you felt his teeth on your nipple, and they bit down slowly. He didn’t bite as deeply as he had on your thigh and arm, but he broke the skin, allowing blood to dribble onto his waiting tongue. It hurt, probably even more than the other bites because it was in such a delicate place, and you screamed as his teeth sank just a tiny bit deeper. He licked the blood off and pulled away, then moved back down. 

His thumb was already rubbing your clit again, but now his hot mouth was on it again, and you thought you might just die right there. “I love you,” you said in a breathy voice, then repeated it like a mantra. “I love you. I love you. I love you!”

Having his tongue running over your clit while you poured out your feelings so shamefully made your head swim. You could only lie there helplessly as he did whatever he pleased with your body. You were still crying as you made a final plea, “Please let me cum… I love you so much…”

That’s when you suddenly felt his teeth graze over your clit, and all at once your tired, aching body was on full alert. You looked down in horror, shaking your head, but he just grinned up at you and said, “You have my permission to cum.”

It was like a dam broke. You sobbed out a moan as you finally let all the heavenly sensations you’d been trying to block out wash over you. He continued licking and rubbing with his fingers until you were nothing more than a quivering piece of flesh underneath him. 

When it was over, your body went limp, and you laid there breathing hard as he leaned over you, watching. He remained there for a little while, then stood up and turned away from the bed. Was this it? Was this the end? You couldn’t bear it. 

*******

Sukuna tightened his robe as he glanced back at the offering still tied to his bed. Looking over her weak little body, all splayed out, and the red, bloody bite marks he’d left on her, made it even harder to ignore the pulsing erection he’d had since he first bound her wrists with the rope. But he didn’t mind taking care of it himself. He’d decided to let the night end on her pleasure instead of his own. 

It was the least he could do for her, considering what he planned to do to her. 

As he started to walk away, he heard her soft voice say, “Lord Sukuna… could I make a final request, before you kill me?”

He looked back at her. She’d slipped and called him only by his name once, leaving him slightly annoyed that she had immediately went back to using “Lord”. He rather liked the way his name had sounded being moaned from her lips, even though he had beheaded at least three people for being so disrespectful in the past. 

His eyes met hers and he asked quietly, “What is your request?”

Her face was red from blushing so much, but she held his gaze without looking away. “I want you inside me again, one more time.”

He hadn’t expected that, and he must have been wearing a surprised expression, because the offering averted her eyes and said, “Please?”

Sukuna stepped back over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her naked body. “I thought you wanted me to be gentle today,” he said in an uncharacteristically kind tone. “If I fuck you now, I won’t hold back. I won’t be able to. I’ll be rough with you, I’ll hurt you. I’ll fuck you as hard as I can, because anything less would leave me unsatisfied.”

Her eyes looked like they were made of glass as she stared up at him. “I don’t mind. You can hurt me.”

His cock was throbbing between his thighs, but he kept himself under control. “Be careful when you say things like that,” he told her, wanting nothing more than to mount her right there and then. “You’re making it hard for me to contain the monster you know I am.”

She arched her back, lifting her hips from the bed as she moaned, “Lord Sukuna, please… take me… hurt me… cum inside me again.”

The last of his self control evaporated into thin air. His robe was ripped open and discarded, then he climbed onto the offering and pushed her legs up, letting them rest on his shoulders as he rammed his entire cock inside her drenched pussy. She cried out, from pain or pleasure, he couldn’t tell, but her face looked blissful as he pounded into her. 

Every other time, Sukuna had maintained some level of control. He hadn’t wanted to wreck her so quickly, but now that control was gone. With her writhing beneath him, her arms still tied to the posts, her eyes wet with tears and her body rising up to rub against his, he surrendered completely to his desire to be buried as deeply inside her warm, wet pussy as possible. 

He fucked her like an animal, harder and deeper than he’d ever fucked anyone before. He could feel his cock slamming against her cervix, bruising and battering it as her whole body jerked with his violent thrusts. The whole time, she was murmuring something between her moans and cries. A word he couldn’t hear clearly enough. 

One of his hands groped at her breast, and he realized too late that it was the one with the bloody, bitten nipple. She winced and shuddered, still mumbling that unknown word, and he quickly switched to the other breast. As an apology, he took the injured nipple into his warm mouth and licked it gently, still thrusting into her with deep, powerful motions. 

She jerked against the ropes again, and he remembered that she liked to wrap her arms around him while being fucked into oblivion, so he reached up and ripped the ropes free of the posts. Her arms, no doubt sore and tired, encircled his neck and clung to him. She buried her wet, tear-stained face into his shoulder, and that’s when he finally identified the word she’d been uttering all along. 

His name. Only his name. 

Her voice was unsteady, her body shaking with sobs, and she continued clutching him while crying out his name. 

She must have been in pain, but she never once asked him to stop or even slow down. She accepted his violence, his brutality, deep into her delicate form. 

“I love you more than anything, Sukuna…”

He heard the words but didn’t acknowledge them, only continued fucking her wildly. He didn’t know if he loved her. He didn’t know if he was capable of love. What he felt for her was contradictory and confusing. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to hold her. He wanted to give her more rich, beautiful robes to wear and watch her smile as she tried them on. He wanted to use his cursed technique to inflict a thousand tiny cuts all over her body, then lick the blood from all of them. He wanted to share more meals and baths with her. He wanted to string her up from the ceiling by her arms and relentlessly fuck her until the only word she was capable of saying was his name. He wanted to go to sleep with her in his arms. 

He simply wanted more of her, in every way possible. 

She clenched tightly around him every time his tip rammed into that sweet spot that made her moan. Soon she was screaming out his name as she came for the fifth time that night. 

Her ragged breathing and trembling body pushed him over the edge, and he drew back onto his knees, pulling her with him, letting her legs slide off his shoulders and wrap tightly around his waist. His mouth crashed into hers as he squeezed her against him as hard as he could, finally cumming deep inside of her. 

They stayed entangled that way for a while, even after the last of his cum had shot into her womb, wrapped in each other’s arms, theirs tongue mingling together. When he broke the kiss, he looked down at her face. She was more lovely then than she’d ever been, her face flushed, her lips parted, his own saliva and hers all over her mouth, her eyes glazed over as she stared up at him lovingly. 

“You can kill me now, Lord Sukuna,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I can die happy, being so full of you.”

He was still completely buried inside her. He didn’t want to pull out, but the night wouldn’t last forever, and there was still much to be done. He lifted her off him, and her body was limp, too exhausted to move. He laid her back on the bed and stood up. She was watching him, trying to stay conscious, but after a few minutes she passed out again. He pulled a sheet over her and watched her sleep for a while. Then he summoned all three shrine maidens. 

The women walked into the room with their heads down. He had already pulled on a clean robe, and was tying the sash at his waist as they entered. 

“All three of you, look up. I need to be sure you understand my instructions.”

The three women hesitantly raised their faces. This was probably the first time they had gotten a good look at his face. One of them glanced at the bed, but said nothing. 

Sukuna gestures toward the offering and said, “She is not to be touched in my absence, by anyone. She is not to take a husband. Do you understand?”

The women seemed shocked, but they nodded their heads. 

“Make sure all her needs are met until the festival next year,” he said, then looked over at her sleeping form before adding, “See to it that she is well fed. I wouldn’t mind seeing some more meat on her when I return.” With those words, he gave the women a grin that intentionally showed off his sharp teeth. 

All three women paled at the sight, clearly aware of his… unusual dining preferences. 

His orders given, the women left the room while he prepared to leave the village. His attendants were working on loading all the material offerings into his traveling cart, though he’d told them to leave the pink cherry blossom robe and any food offerings that hadn’t spoiled. He dressed in his thicker outer wear and then walked back over to the bed, taking one long, final look at the girl who had pleased him like no one ever had before. 

She was still asleep, and he was glad of it. A teary goodbye was simply not in him, and he knew she would be sad to see him leave. He wouldn’t take her with him. The things he did would no doubt frighten and repulse her, and he was too invested in his goals to allow for such a distraction. But having someone waiting here for him didn’t seem so bad. 

He glanced back to make sure no attendants or shrine maidens were nearby, then he bent down and kissed her lips. 

Minutes later, he was gone. 

******

When you woke up the next morning, you were shocked to still be alive. The shrine maidens informed you that Lord Sukuna had left the village in the night, as he did every year. You felt an ache in your chest, a pain that you had felt once before. You thought it was probably heartbreak. You’d wanted to be with him forever, even if that time was fleeting like the cherry blossoms he liked so much. 

Then the shrine maidens told you that you were not allowed to marry until the next festival, and you realized what that meant. He wanted you to be the offering next year! Your heart swelled with love at the thought. 

And so you returned to your family and your normal life in the village. Most of the villagers, including your parents, refrained from asking you about your time with Lord Sukuna. You had returned to them covered in bruises and bloody bite marks that the shrine maidens had bandaged, barely able to walk. They had assumed you’d been brutalized and deemed it insensitive to question you about it, though it was clear that many people wondered how you had survived. 

You didn’t volunteer any information either, except to tell your parents that it hadn’t been as bad as they imagined, if only to keep them from worrying so much. 

Your life was a bit dull, but happy. You carried on as you had before, but secretly, deep in your heart, you longed to wrap your arms around your Lord’s neck again, to feel him inside you. You watched the seasons change, eager for spring to come again. 

*****

Epilogue: 

Cherry blossoms drifted to the ground all around you as you pressed your forehead as low as possible, bowing with the rest of the gathered villagers in the festival grounds surrounding Lord Sukuna’s shrine. You heard his footsteps, and your heart was beating so fast that you thought it might burst from your chest. 

Would he even remember you? Would he ask for you specifically as the first night’s offering, or would you need to volunteer? Regardless, you were so excited to see him again, it was very difficult to keep your head down as his footsteps came closer. 

They approached, but instead of walking by you, they stopped right in front of your bowed form. You drew in a sharp breath, looking only at his sandaled feet. He crouched down, his knees becoming visible, and then you heard his voice in your ear: “You can look up now.”

You raised your head immediately, and found yourself face to face with your village’s deity. Tears sprung to your eyes, and he gave you the same smug grin he often wore. His hand brushed the tears from one cheek and he laughed as he said, “You’re always dripping whenever you’re near me.”

You blushed, but smiled as he took one of your hands and pulled you up. Nearby, the village elders who were escorting Lord Sukuna to the base of his shrine looked at you with shock. They’d heard you were a survivor, but the look of rapture on your face, along with Lord Sukuna’s behavior toward you, must have been totally unexpected for them. 

Sukuna looked at them and said, “I already have a woman for the week. No more will be needed.”

The elders quickly bowed despite their surprise. “As you wish, Lord Sukuna,” one of them said. 

“Oh, but do make sure plenty of fresh fruit is offered,” Sukuna added, then gave you a meaningful look and said, “We especially enjoy peaches.” 

Your face turned crimson at the memory of last year, but you couldn’t stop smiling as Lord Sukuna kept hold of your hand and pulled you up the steps to his shrine. 

Once you were far enough away from everyone else, he glanced back at you and said, “I hope you’re prepared. I’ve had all year to think about all the terrible things I’m going to do to you.”

You smiled at him, bright and happy. “And I’ve had all year to look forward to it, Lord Sukuna!”

Once again, you thought you caught a glimpse of a faint pink tint to his face as he turned back toward the shrine’s doors. “Smile all you want, but I’ll show you no mercy. You’ll be screaming on my cock by nightfall.”

You stepped closer to him and said in your sweetest voice, “Lord Sukuna, please wait until we get inside the shrine to say such things. I’m afraid I’ll leave a mess on the steps if you keep making me so wet.”

His eyes shifted back to your face, and then his gaze slid down your body before returning to your eyes. He grinned, baring his teeth. “Such a needy little offering.” 

The two of you entered the shrine, dismissed the shrine maidens, and closed up the doors behind them, eager to begin a week of utter depravity. 

Tag List:

@yourmumsthings @boogeysmoth @gojoscumslut @slut4animedilfs @urcrybby24 @kaqua @chiisana-akuma @httpslu0 @thoreau-ly @poopoobuttsy @idk-bro-gay @morgueswrld @pastelbluecloudy3

[dorlilymylovesss]

Lily Evans didn't have to wash the blood off her hands that night, but she did have to wash the burning odor from her clothes, which seemed to soak even her own insides. She wrinkled her nose and grabbed her red silk shirt by the sleeves to dip them in the milky, powdery water.

After a few more of those motions, she squeezed the garment and tossed it into the corner of the tub, not bothering to shake out the water completely.

Drying her hands she headed back into the small dark room that looked more like a prison without bars.

Lily leaned against the back of the couch, feeling the rough fabric digging into her skin through her thin nightgown. The familiar crackle of old springs sounded like a reminder of where she was now and how much she wanted to go home.

Lily closed her eyes, trying to squeeze the events of the night out of her mind, but they immediately surfaced in front of her, as if there was nothing but memories in the deafening darkness. The flames - bright, ravenous, bursting out of the window, black smoke billowing upward, and her, kneeling, watching the ashes settle to the ground like black snowflakes.

It seemed to her that the more she rubbed it into her memory, the sooner the pain would subside, but every time she returned to those images, Lily felt something akin to anger flare up in her chest. It wasn't just anger at those who had started all this chaos, not anger at injustice or at her own powerlessness. It was rage at herself, at her helplessness.

She ran her hand over her face, feeling tears rolling down her cheeks that she hadn't even noticed. Tears that had seemed so unattainable for a long time, and now they were finally released.

"I can't take it anymore," Lily whispered into the void, hoping that maybe if she said those words out loud, they would have the power to change something in this world where she didn't have to kill people for her own safety.

As if on automatic, she got up from the couch, headed to the bathroom again, and mindlessly began rubbing the same shirt she'd already washed a few minutes ago. The soap foamed between her fingers, and she kept rubbing, as if trying to wipe away not only the dirt, but all the horror that lingered in her soul. She repeated it over and over again, as if in a trance, until she finally stopped, feeling her fingers freezing from the water and her wrists aching from the strain.

"Love," James hugged her from behind snuggling his nose into her red curls.

Lily flinched, not expecting his presence, and froze, not taking her eyes off his whitened hand. She knew it was James by the warmth that spilled down her back, the familiar scent that wrapped her from head to toe, allowing her shoulders to relax at last.

" We've lost everything," Lily whispered, finally breaking the silence. - The house, all of our things... Everything we'd built."

" You didn't lose me," James reminded her, turning her toward him. His dark eyes, reflecting the light from the dim bathroom lamp, seemed deeper than usual, full of determination. "As long as you're here with me, I'm willing to tear those bastards to shreds just to give you the peace of mind you deserve.

"You know they won't stop," Lily looked at him. "They will come again and again until they kill us. James, I'm so afraid of losing you."

James hugged her tighter, letting his arms slide down her waist.

"How long can we live like this, James?" - she asked barely audibly, her voice breaking with the emotions that had built up. - "How long are we going to run and fight? When will it end?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took her hand, frozen and still smelling of soap, and pressed it to his chest, to where his heart beat.

"Just a little longer, my love. It will all be over soon."

"We'll get through this, Lily," James continued confidently. "Now I want you to hear me out. I was going to do this even before those bastards attacked us, but never got the chance, we were constantly on missions."

Lily blinked incomprehensibly, feeling him suddenly drop to one knee, still holding her hand. "James, what are you...?"

"Lily Evans," he inhaled deeply, obviously choosing his words, "When I first saw you in the Hogwarts corridor, it was like I was electrocuted. I think that was the first time I realized what love was. Yes, we lost a lot today, but you the only thing I can't lose"

Lily stood, paralyzed, feeling the tears come to her eyes again. "James, you..."

"Let me finish," he smiled gently "Lily, marry me. I want to spend every day of my life with you, to wake up and smell your citrus shampoo, kiss your smile, stroke your freckled shoulders, and love, love you until the day I die."

There was absolute silence in the room for a second.

"You're crazy," she whispered through her tears, but the corners of her lips trembled in a barely perceptible smile. "This is absolutely the wrong time to propose, Potter."

"It is the perfect time," he replied stubbornly, rising to his feet and hugging her as tightly as if he was afraid she would disappear.

Lily laughed through her tears, snuggling her face into his chest, feeling her own heart beating frantically . "Yes," she whispered, lifting her gaze to his face. "Yes, James, I will marry you."

Their faces were only a few centimeters apart, and she could feel his breath touching her cheeks.

"You said 'yes'," he whispered, as if he himself couldn't quite believe it had actually happened.

It didn't take James long to realize it. He took a step forward, brushing her disheveled red strands away from her face, his fingers trembling faintly.

Their lips finally met in a tender kiss. Lily felt his hands gently rest on her waist, pulling her closer.

Their kiss grew deeper and deeper, turning their feelings into one big hurricane.

As their mouths melded together, the world around them ceased to exist. All that mattered was the feel of each other's lips, the taste of longing and sweetness.

For a moment, all problems, fears, pain and worries disappeared. There was no burning house, no threat of death - just the two of them, their kiss, their embrace, their breath mingling with each other. Lily felt the hot tears flowing down her cheeks again, but this time they weren't from pain, but from something else. From relief. From happiness.

When they finally pulled away from each other, both breathing heavily, James looked up at her, still holding her face in his hands, and said quietly: "I love you so much"

"I hope our children don't inherit your sight, problems" Lily said suddenly with a smile and felt lightness fill her heart again as she looked at her fiancé's surprised face. Fiancé...How nice that sounded

James raised his eyebrows, pretending to be offended. "Lily Potter, actually your future husband is a professional Quidditch player."

"James, just because you played on the school Quidditch team doesn't make you a professional," she continued, rolling her eyes"

James raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I was a great Quidditch player'. And actually our kids will inherit my intelligence and your beauty."

"You probably mean my intelligence and my beauty?"

James laughed, his laughter was like a balm to her tired soul.

"Of course that's what I meant, my love."

"I can't believe we're getting married before Sirius and Remus."

"Potter, if you proposed just to piss Sirius off, I'll chop your head off and make myself a widow."

"Don't worry, I've been preparing my speech since first year when you sat next to me in potions class" James laughed, hugging her. "I wouldn't want to end up without a head, that sounds pretty painful. I was just thinking that if Sirius found out we got married before he did, he'd be beyond furious."

[rokishimizu4]

Lex Luther hires Superman to be his bodyguard

(Yes, you read the title right! I hate Lex, but I hate Joker more and making Lex suffer is my comfort) TW: Violence, death, and implied smut

Surprisingly it has been days since the incident between Green Lantern, and Red Robin, and the copper spider (Which no one has no idea how it disappeared so fast), and Clark Kent was settling back into his role as being a paid journalist for the Daily Planet, when Lois Lane rushes into his cubicle.

She tries to keep her voice down, but he didn’t need his super hearing to hear how excited she was, as she tells him that Lex just held a private conferences (With a few journalists like Lois Lane, cause she’s a favorite of Superman, being allowed in) asking for Superman’s help yesterday!

Which was the day that Clark was off Earth with Green Lantern, searching for what the message meant, and he felt somewhat bad for missing it.

However, before he could, politely, share in Lois’s joy, their boss calls her back into his office for a quick meeting. Clark easily eavesdrops on the conversation and learns that Lois would be allowed to write the article, but from a professional standpoint only.

He spends the next 8 hours trying to pay attention to his own work, but hearing his wife, Lois, mumble happily to herself, and praising him like a good boy, makes it 10x times more difficult.

By the time he and Lois are finished with the day, they both sneak for a quicky back at their apartment before returning, and Clark lets her leave first so he can ‘catch up’ on his unfinished work.

He joins her a few hours later, letting her have her, deserved, spotlight and professional interview for the full article, as Superman and joins Lex in private.

But Clark’s good mood soon turns into fear, for both Lex, the goop child?, and whoever else was trapped in this situation as he learns that Luther donated money, billions, to an organization that was researching alien life on different planets and in different Solar systems.

Luther originally thought that he could use the organization to further his plans to finally bring Superman down, and giving them his Kryptonite (not all mind you, but enough) to boost the research.

Only to get a small message from one of his scientists, that he put in to keep an eye on the organization, that the research was not what he originally thought it was for.

”The next day, my scientist was found dead in a sewer drain, completely eaten by rats.” Luther finishes as he pushes an evidence bag over his desk to Superman, containing an ID for a Jane Smith, with Lex Corp stamped proudly in the background.

“This is all they found that identifies her as one of mine.”

Superman swallows down the bile threatening to come up, as he notices how blood soaked the ID tag was.

”I’ve tried everything, but there no information about the organization and I believe that someone hired something to kill me and my personal staff that knew some about the organization.”

”Please, I know we have had our differences, but I don’t want to die like a pig to the slaughter.”

It takes less than an hour for a safe house to be set up for Lex Luther and his personal staff somewhere out of the US, and even less time to realize that the US government knew nothing about the organization, or whoever did know to become a missing person.

[theswissgirl]

Demetri Volturi - Turning Point

Part 2 of From Here On Until Forever

Twilight Saga: Eclipse

Character: Evangeline Swan

status: newborn vampire

ability: Seismic sense (later on)

warning: being ambushed and pinned to the ground, mentions of blood, vampires being vampires

Everything changed for Evangeline Swan the day she returned home from Volterra, but for the better or for the worse?

Word Count: 6.2k

and naturally all credit goes to the owners and producers of the Twilight Saga.

_________________________________________________________

Leaves crunched beneath your feet, mud clinging to your boots as you trekked through the gloomy forest of forks and you had noticed that the sun was beginning to set in the horizon, giving the sky a pink hue.

you had just left the Cullen house and needed to get away from the tense and insufferable atmosphere.

Ever since you'd gotten back from Volterra and the rest found out that Demetri is your mate, you felt as though there had been a rift growing between them and you, like they pushed you out because you were fated to the tracker of the volturi guard.

they grew quiet when you entered the room, didn't talk to you as much in school anymore and didn't invite you to their thunderstorm- dependent baseball.

And now that Bella's life was in danger once more because she was being targeted by a newborn army, they ignored you completely and you've felt nothing but alone since.

It made you miss demetri dearly.

oh how you longed to feel his arms around you again, to pull you close and whisper that was everything was going to be alright, to feel him close again.

the dreams you'd been having of him did not help either.

Some nights you'd shoot up in your bed with your body covered in a light sheen of sweat, your heart racing at a certain dream you'd have of him and you, alone together in your own little bubble.

You snapped out of your thoughts when a sudden gust of wind blew past you, your flowing aggressively forward and you froze, that gust of wind did not feel natural.

alarms went off in your head as you turned your head and took in your surroundings and the more you didn't find anything, the more your heart began to pound.

an eery and unsettling feeling settled in your body and you picked up your pace, arms crossing over your chest and eyes zoomed ahead and you didn't dare turning around.

But that was a mistake.

in the distance, you heard branches snapping one by one and it only came closer and closer until you felt like the sound was coming from right above you, like a cyclone tearing down everything in its path as it hunts you.

Next thing you knew.. you were on the ground.

you let out a startled yelp as your body landed harshly with a thud on the cold and wet forest floor, soaking your clothes as you thrashed against whatever held you down but it was impossible, because whatever had you trapped felt like it was made of stone and the more you struggled, the more painful it was.

Your body was spun around so you were laying on your back, your hands being forcefully pushed up so they were restrained above your head in iron-clad grip.

You looked up and felt your blood run cold.

It was a vampire, you could tell by the red eyes and insanely pale skin.

But it wasn't just any vampire.

"Victoria?" you whispered with a strained voice as you took in her wild red curls, her prominent red eyes and how cold and calculating they were, a visible snarl left her lips as she leaned closer to your face, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

"what do you want from me?" you cried as she came closer and closer, until her breath hit your ear.

"you're not the one I want" she whispered and bit the shell of your ear harshly, making you gasp and thrash as pain radiated from the spot but there was no use in fighting.

She was a vampire and you were a human.

"But you'll do for now"

with a menacing growl, her teeth clamped down in your neck with swiftness, embedding them so deep as you screamed in pain, tears of agony streamed down your cheeks as you tried to push her off but you felt completely and utterly helpless.

you screamed as loud as you could, screamed so much that you thought your vocal cords might burst from the extreme pressure they were operating under but it was to no avail.

no one was coming anyway, and the wolves couldn't cross over either.

but then it all stopped and her fangs left your neck.

and then she was gone, leaving you bleeding on the floor and unmoving.

and then the burning started.

It felt like flames were being shot out in your body and were burning away everything, you thrashed and cried out as the fire within you grew stronger and stronger, you felt like your insides were being torn apart, your blood vessels and arteries bursting open.

Pain and agony like no other until it suddenly turned black and you passed out.

____________________________________________________

Demetri:

Demetri, Jane and Felix had been sent by Aro to keep an eye on the growing situation of the newborn army that had been gathering in Seattle.

They were in the process of scouring the forest of forks when Demetri stopped, his ability honing in on his mates mind and he immediately knew something was wrong.

"Felix! Jane!" he called out to them and sped off in your direction, determined to get to you as fast possible when scenario after scenario began to play out in his head.

and they each ended with you, dead and unmoving in his arms.

he couldn't let that happen, he just couldn't.

if anything happens to you, he will not be okay and he would do whatever it takes to find the person who harmed you and end their miserable existence.

the closer he came to you, the more his tracking ability began to pick up on images and thoughts and emotions and what scared him the most was the near paralyzing fear he felt rolling off you, the chemo signals your scent gave off did not make him feel better either.

a few seconds later and a body comes into you and he knew it was you.

"No, no, no" he breathed and his frozen heart shattered as he examined your run down state and then his eyes narrowed when he saw two puncture marks on your neck, as if you'd been bitten.

And then it hit him.

you were transitioning.

Demetri gently picked you up, carrying you in his arms as he ran through the forest towards the Volturi palace. He was determined to get you to safety as quickly as possible. As he ran, he couldn't help but worry about your condition. He had seen countless vampires transition before, but this time it was different.

This time, it was his mate who was in danger. He knew that the transition process could be dangerous and unpredictable, and he was worried about what the future held for you both.

As they finally arrived at the Volturi palace, Demetri carried you inside urgently and laid you down on a soft bed within his bedroom, making sure you were situated comfortably.

He sat next to you, watching over you intently as your body went through the transformation. The hours ticked by, but he never left your side. He would whisper words of comfort and reassurance, hoping that you could hear him even in your delirious state, even if he knew it wasn't likely.

_______________________________________________________

Back to your pov:

The days passed and the torture was finally over, you finally started to wake up.

Your eyes fluttered open and you slowly began to register your new surroundings. Your vision was sharp and clear, you could see the smallest details from the wrinkle in the curtains to the dust on the door handle.

You could hear every sound in the room with incredible clarity, like everything was a melody dancing above you. You tried to sit up, but your body felt weak, and a wave of dizziness washed over you.

That's when you noticed that Demetri was sitting next to you, watching you intently with a mixture of concern and relief on his face.

"What-" you breathed as you sat up on the bed and took in your surroundings, this was definitely not forks and you had a feeling you knew where you were when you saw the architecture.

Demetri smiled softly as he watched you come to your senses. He could see the confusion and surprise in your eyes as you took in your new surroundings.*

"You're in the Volturi palace," he said quietly, "You were attacked by a vampire, mia cara. By the time I found you, it was too late. You were already in the process of transitioning into a vampire".

Your eyes went over to him and you froze "Demetri" you whispered and something inside you snapped, and an insatiable urge to be close to him took ahold of you, probably the mate bond now that you were a vampire, it became stronger.

He reached out and gently took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. He pulled you closer to him, the magnetic attraction between you two undeniable.

"I'm here," he said softly, his voice filled with reassurance.

"I'm not going anywhere."

You rushed to him in lightning speed, your entire body pressed against him and you wrapped your arm tight as stone around him "oh Demetri I missed you“ you whispered against his ear, tightening your hold without realising you were using your newborn strength.

He let out a small noise of surprise as you squeezed him tightly, and he could feel the strength of your newborn instincts. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you just as tight as you held him, trying to soothe your frantic energy.

"I missed you too, love," he said softly, his voice both comforting and a little bit amused.

He held you close as he spoke, the scent of your skin filling his senses and causing his own body to react. The mate bond was sending waves of longing and desire through him, but he pushed those feelings aside for the moment, focusing on calming you down instead.

"You're still adjusting to your new senses and strength," he said gently, "It's going to take some time to get used to, but I'll be here to help you every step of the way."

You leaned back and looked back at his beautiful face, your grip on him not faltering "what about the Cullens?" you asked him worriedly, knowing they must be looking for you, or at least you hoped so.

Demetri's eyes darkened as you mentioned the cullens. He had been keeping a close eye on you whilst you two remained separated and so he was aware of how the treatment of the Cullen clan towards you began to change when they discovered you were his fated.

And he was angry.

Because even if you were his mate and they disliked it, they still could have tried to do something to prevent you from turning, tried to prevent Victoria.

Demetri's hand reached up to caress your cheek, his touch soft and gentle. He could see the anxiety in your eyes, and he knew how much you cared about your friends in Forks.

"I'll talk to the Volturi rulers and make sure they understand the situation," he said reassuringly. "They may not be happy about you being a newborn, but they'll understand the importance of the mate bond."

Your eyes went back to Demetri but then you froze, an ache that started in your throat turned into a burn and you let out a raspy choke, overcome with a sense of hunger.

You froze.

You had a feeling you knew what the burning sensation meant, and you didn't like it one bit.

Demetri noticed the change in your expression and immediately understood what was happening. The transition process had increased your hunger significantly and you were experiencing the powerful thirst that all vampires felt.

He instinctively pulled you closer, trying to comfort you as you struggled with the pain and hunger, "It's alright, love," he said soothingly "It's a natural part of being a newborn. You need to feed."

"No I can’t" you cried without actually shedding any tears, but the more the burn in your throat became stronger, the more the blood of a human became more appealing to you and your lust grew.

You hated that you didn't have a choice in the matter, hated that in order for you to survive you had to feed off of a human being. A human being who probably has a family or has things that they wanted to accomplish. Someone's child, someone's loved one and someone's family.

And you would be the person to squelch that and take it all away.

Demetri's heart ached as he heard your protest. He knew how strong the thirst could be, especially for a newborn, and he could see the struggle in your eyes as you resisted the urge to feed.

He gently took your face in his hands, his touch firm but caring. He looked into your eyes, his own filled with understanding and love. "Love, you have to understand," he said softly. "You're a newborn. You cannot survive without feeding. The thirst will only get stronger, and it will drive you mad if you try to ignore it."

"But I can’t kill someone" you cried out and huddled closer to him, your hands clawing at your throat as if you could just rip the hunger out like scabbed skin.

Demetri carefully wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. His voice was low and gentle, but firm.

"Listen to me, love," he said, his fingers gently stroking your hair. "You're a newborn vampire now. You need blood to survive, and feeding from animals won't be enough."

He paused for a moment, letting his words register in your frantic and frenzied mind as he continued to hold you against him.

"I know this is hard for you. I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but you have to understand that you cannot fight your nature forever. The thirst will drive you mad, and eventually, you'll lose control. It's for your own survival and for the safety of others."

Eventually, you gave in "okay" you cried softly, the ache unbearable now and by now, you wanted to anything and everything to put a stop to it, even if it meant going against your moral compass.

Then a knock sounded on demetris door and then overwhelmingly sweet smell of human blood hit you, and a low growl escaped your lips.

Demetri must've arranged something for you to feast on whilst you were transitioning.

The door opened, and two Volturi guards entered the room, carrying a human prisoner. The scent of human blood was potent and overwhelming, and the guards held the human securely, their expressions stoic and vigilant. Demetri's eyes flickered between you and the guards, watching you carefully as the scent of blood further ignited your newborn instincts.

He spoke in a firm tone, his gaze shifting to the guards as they held a struggling victim in their grasp, "Leave us" he commanded and the guards nodded their head, leaving you and demetri alone with the unlucky victim.

His attention shifted back to you, he could see the hunger and desire for blood in your eyes and he wrapped an arm around your waist to momentarily restrain you before your animalistic instincts took over.

"Take it easy, cara" he whispered in your ear before he let you go and then you pounced.

One hand snaked into his hair as you held the person down, tugging on to expose his carotid artery by the side of neck, barely using any strength to keep the thrashing human pinned down.

You don't waste one second, with a low growl you sunk your fangs into the skin of his neck and a hiss of pleasure leaves your lips. The taste of human blood hit you full force and it was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, as if your senses had been amplified ten fold.

One drop of human blood was enough to fill you with an intoxicating power and satisfaction.

Demetri clenched his hands into fists as he watched you feed on the human, his own primal instincts beginning to flare up but he fought against them for your sake as he listened to the slowing heart rate of the human and he could tell you were almost finished.

It was a sight to behold.

witnessing the brutal beauty of his newborn mate, your eyes changing from the hungry black color to the hauntingly beautiful red color that he also had and he felt a sense of satisfaction as he witnessed you embracing the vampiric nature.

Your movements were less frantic and more controlled now that you've sated the desire for blood and the urge began to fade. With no more blood left, you pulled away from the lifeless being and stood up again, turning around to face demetri.

A new sense of hunger took over, but this time it wasn't blood your vampiric self wanted.

It was him.

Demetri growled lowly, sensing your sudden desire for him through the mate bond and an intense lust and primal need flared up between you.

He took a step closer to you, his eyes tracing your new and improved form hungirly. The scent of blood combined with your own alluring scent sent his instincts into overdrive, it took every ounce of his control to keep himself in check and not pounce on you with unrestrained efficiency.

His voice was low, laced with restraint and intense desire.

"you're exquisite," he murmured as he came closer to you, closing the distance between you two. His hand reached out to wipe lingering blood from your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You saw how his eyes darkened considerably, the struggle in them evident.

"Demetri" you let out a soft growl when the lust for him became unbearable, especially now that he was standing this close to you and everything within you was urging you to give in, to give yourself to him.

"I know, cara," he responded, his voice deeper and thick with desire, barely holding himself back. He pulled you closer to him, the hand that was on your chin moved to the back of your neck and he took ahold of it "you're still new to this, we need to be careful. You're still adjusting to your new nature, to the intensity of the mate bond between us and I don't want to cause you anymore pain than you've already been through."

You felt touched by his words but right now you didn't really care for taking it slow, more for jumping his bones "We don't have to go all the way but please, Demetri" you breathed softly, a hint of a whine in your voice "kiss me".

Demetri's heart clenched at the pleading tone in your voice, the desperate need for physical contact and to be close to him. He understood your need, the way the bond was making you crave his touch, and he couldn't deny you any longer. He needed it as much as you did.

Without hesitation, he closed the remaining distance between you and captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around you tighter, pulling you impossibly closer against him. The kiss was intense and filled with all the pent-up desire and need they had been holding back. He could feel the mate bond strengthening with every touch, every press of his lips against yours. The taste of your skin and the sweetness of your lips sent waves of pleasure through his body, fueling the burning need he felt for you.

He continued to kiss you deeply, his tongue teasing and exploring your mouth as his hands mapped your body with precise and efficient movements and you loved every second of it as the occasional moan tumbled out of your mouth. He could feel the heat between you growing more intense, the pull of the mate bond making it nearly impossible to resist the primal, carnal need to claim you completely.

He reluctantly broke the kiss, his breath coming out in short puffs as his forehead fell forward on yours which is ironic given that vampires don't need air to be alive "We need to be careful, I don't want to rush you or overwhelm you" he whispered softly against his lips and despite every raging hormone telling you something else, you agreed with him.

Even though you were destined to be together, especially now that you're both vampires, it would be too fast and too soon to give into those urges now and "consummate" the bond. You felt like you wanted to get to know him better and spend more time with him so that the two of you could establish a connection outside the mate bond.

"We have eternity, my love"

"I know, I know" you whispered and leaned into his touch and willed your breathing to even out despite that one nagging voice in your head telling you something else. You just focused on the feeling of being in his arms and the serenity it gave you that you finally were able to after spending those agonising months without him.

Least now you knew why they were agonising now to begin with.

But then a different thought crossed into your mind and the smile began to fall from your lips ever so slowly "The newborn vampire army, they're on their way to forks as we speak. I have to help them" you told him with a hint of panic lacing your voice as you thought about the battlefield the Cullens (and Bella) were about to step onto.

Demetri could sense the concern and the urgency in your voice as you mentioned the newborn army and the threat they posed to your loved ones in Forks. His expression hardened, the protective instincts kicking in again.

"You're worried about your family and friends," he said, his tone serious. "I understand. But you also need to remember that you're new to this whole newborn thing. You can't just rush into a battle like this without proper control and training. We need to think about this carefully and come up with a plan."

"Demetri they’re my friends and the newborns are targeting Bella, I have to help them" you pleaded softly, and bit your lip in thought. You had witnessed some of the training that Jasper lead and you had been able to remember some of it "jasper taught the others how to fight a newborn, I’m sure I’ll be able too".

Demetri's expression softened at your pleading tone, sensing the depth of your concern for your friends and the urge to protect them. He could see the determination in your eyes, the firm belief that you wanted to help them. "I know you're worried, love, and I understand your desire to help," he said quietly. "But you have to be realistic. Yes, Jasper has taught them how to fight newborns, but you are still a newborn yourself. It's one thing to practice and another to be faced with a real battle."

Before you could counter his argument, which was futile because you knew he had a good point, a knock sounded on his door, Jane stepping into his room without any regard "Aro wants us to take off again" she said, her voice void of any emotions just as always.

Demetri's attention flickered to jane for a moment as he responded to her, his voice and tone guarded "We'll be right out, Jane" he replied before turning back to you, his gaze softening once again.

"Wait I was in forks when Victoria attacked me, how did you get to me so fast?" you asked him when it dawned on you, and you looked at him expectantly.

Demetri's expression became guarded again. He could sense the curiosity in your question and he knew that he was going to have to explain himself. "That's a long story, love," he said. "It involves my unique abilities, and I'll explain it to you later, but we don't have much time right now."

"Alice said that the Volturi had been keeping their eye on the situation, was that why you were in forks?” you asked him again, wondering what was going on that he was trying to rush you and him out the door.

Demetri let out a sigh and offered you a small smile. It was true, the Volturi had been keeping a watchful eye on the situation in Forks, and his presence there was related to that.*

"That's part of it," he admitted. "The Volturi have been keeping a close watch on the situation in Forks, and I was there on a mission to assess the situation and report back to them. But it's a complicated matter, love, and one that cannot be explained right now. I promise I will tell you everything, but we really need to go."

___________________________________________________________

*Time skip*

"They're coming!" Alice's distressed voice could be heard as you emerged from the treeline and everyone's attention turned to the group of Volturi guards, including you. The silence that fell upon the scene was palpable as the Cullen Clan looked at you with various expressions of shock, confusion, and hostility. You could feel their gazes digging into you, their disbelief evident.

there was a variety of emotions amongst the vegetarian vampires, but most prominent were shock and confusion. Bella's eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern as she took in her sister and her changed persona. Her mind was likely racing, trying to understand why you were present with the Volturi.

Demetri remained close to your side, his presence steady and reassuring. He noticed their reactions, but he kept his expression neutral, his focus solely on you and the Volturi mission. He could feel your own emotions through his tracking gift, the nerves and worry mixing with the longing to help your family.

You pulled the hood of your cloak down as everyone else did, Jane speaking up, "Impressive" she started, looking each and everyone in the eye "I've never seen a coven escape an assault of this magnitude intact".

"We were lucky" Carlisle answered calmly, his posture and body language guarded but neutral as he offered a small smile, just like he'd always been.

"I doubt that" Jane replied cooly.

"It appears we missed an entertaining fight" Alec spoke up after, a smug smile on his face and you fought the urge to role your eyes at him.

"Yes" Jane agreed almost instantly, "it's not often we're rendered unnecessary" she said.

"If you arrived a half hour ago you would've fulfilled your purpose" Edward spoke up and your gaze flittered to him and you flinched when his cold gaze was already set on you, a secure arm wrapped around Bella whilst she was cautious as to not make much eye contact with the Volturi.

"Pity" Jane practically spat out the word before her gaze spotted someone unfamiliar, a young girl who looked no older than 17 and you felt sorry for the young girl when you realised she must've been one the vampires from the army, a newborn just like you.

"You missed one".

You watched as jasper made his way over to the young one, standing next to her in a protective manner in case the Volturi would try anything, his posture rigid and you could tell he was on high alert with the way he watched every member but you saw a flicker of uncertainty whenever her his eyes landed on you.

As if he could not determine if you were going to harm them or if you were still on their side.

"We've offered her asylum in exchange for her surrender" Carlisle explained, his hands crossing in front of him.

"It wasn't yours to offer"

And then Jane proceeded to glance at the girl, her expression void as she asked the newborn why she came here to forks but when she didn't answer, Jane set her ability to use and the girl let out a piercing scream of pain, collapsing to the ground.

Once Jane stopped projecting pain onto her, she answered every question as she slowly sat up again, informing Jane that she didn't know much as Riley, the leader of the army would not share information because their thoughts were not safe.

Most likely because of Alice.

"Felix" Jane gave a silent command and you watched as the brute made his way over to the newborn with long strides and dread settled in your stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Esme tried to defend the girl and come to her defence by exclaiming the newborn had no knowledge of what she was doing and that they'd take responsibility for her.

You thought that was admirable of them but it wasn't enough to persuade Jane to let her live as she instructed Felix to continue and you almost immediately could see the defeat on their faces and soon, the young newborn was no more.

"Evangeline" Bella spoke up after some time with a quivering voice before the Volturi began to depart the scene , not being able to keep quiet anymore "what are you doing? with them?” she asked you, a hint of disdain in her voice as she emphasised "with them"

Bella's question hung in the air, laced with disdain and confusion. It was clear she didn't understand why you were now standing alongside the Volturi, an enemy to her and her family, and it was evident in her strained expression. Your heart ached as you heard her question, the mix of emotions coursing through you as Bella struggled to grasp the situation. You knew she was confused and distrustful, but you also knew you had to explain yourself.

Demetri,remaining by your side, remained silent, allowing you to take a moment to gather your thoughts. He knew this wasn't easy for you, that you were caught between loyalty to your friends and family and the circumstances that have led you into an unexpected alliance with the Volturi.

Bella, it's complicated," you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "I know you don't understand, and I know you're distrustful of the Volturi, but please try to hear me out…"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, steeling yourself and taking a deep breath as you formulated the explanation carefully in your head "I didn't choose this," you continued, struggling not to let emotion slip into your words "I didn't choose to become a vampire or expect at all to be here with Demetri and the Volturi. What happened... it was beyond my control"

The rest of the Cullens listened carefully as you continued with your explanation and you could see the curiosity swimming in their gazes but also a hint of distrust, you couldn't blame them, you did show up with the volturi after being gone for 48 hours with no notice or anything.

"Victoria ambushed me in the forest and turned me against my will," you said and took a deep breath, your mind briefly flickering back to the event and you only hoped they would understand where you are coming from.

"Demetri and the Volturi found me on the forest floor whilst I was going through the transition and brought me to Volterra where they made sure I was safe and could survive" You glanced towards demetri and a small smile grew on your face as you took in your mate, the only reason you were not spiraling right now was largely because he was standing by your side.

You glanced back at the others and to your relief, their gazes had softened a little and you could the understanding and concern crossing their faces as they absorbed the news of your attack. Esme's emotions were the most noticeable out of all as she looked at you, what looks like guilt and sadness were swirling like a whirlpool in her eyes.

You smiled a little.

Bella's expression softened slightly, her disbelief starting to give way to a hint of concern. You could sense her own emotions changing as she seemed to take your words into consideration. She nodded slowly, her expression showing a small trace of understanding, but her confusion and worry remained on her face.

"I never meant to betray you or any of you," you continued, your voice tinged with sadness and guilt, your eyes watering and pricking at the corners of your eyes, even if you knew they were never going to fall. "I wish more than anything that things could be different, but I'm alive because of the Volturi."

Bella's expression softened further, her eyes locking with yours and her own emotions became more visible now. There was a hint of understanding and empathy in her eyes, but the hurt and confusion still lingered under the surface, the pain of betrayal still present despite the explanation.

"I don't ask for your forgiveness," you whispered softly, feeling the emotions building more in yourself as that thought surfaced, "but I ask for your understanding. This isn't who I chose to be, but it's who I am now."Your words were tinged with sadness. You didn't want their rejection but understood their feelings of betrayal. The emotional turmoil within you was overwhelming. A mix of fear, sadness, and longing for acceptance.

“Please believe me when I say,” you said softly, your voice laced with genuine emotion. “I am not the enemy. I never wanted to be apart from any of you. I am still me.”

Then you glanced at Demetri and he met your gaze and offered a reassuring nod, his eyes filled with understanding. He could feel your emotions through the bond, understanding the complexity of the situation. His presence remained strong and unwavering at your side.

"But Demetri is my mate and the reason i'm here today" you said softly as you threw a glance at Bella and Edward, observing how close they stood together and a knowing smile grew on your face "you know what it's like, Bella"

Bella hesitated for a moment more before stepping forward, closing the distance between you two. She stood in front of you, her expression a mix of compassion and sadness, recognizing the complicated emotions you both shared.

She searched your eyes for a moment before speaking softly, her voice carrying the weight of understanding and the pain of the circumstances. "I'm… I'm sorry," she whispered, her expression filled with emotion. "About everything that happened to you."

If you could've cried, your entire face would have resembled a damn waterfall. You felt so relieved that she accepted you and wasn't holding your transformation against you.

"You're not a traitor,you're my sister" Bella whispered, her words carrying the deep understanding of the bond you shared. "I see that now. I can… I can see the connection between you and Demetri and I understand."

Bella's words struck deep and it caused a swell of relief and emotion to crash over you. She seemed to finally understand and grasp the depth of the bond you and Demetri shared as mates, the intense connection that drove your actions, as it reminded of her of her own connection to Edward and she was reminded of how much her world was turned upside down the second she met Edward Cullen. In that moment, she knew and understood that you needed to be with him and how important it was that you get your newfound vampiric persona under control.

She gently reached out her hand and interlaced it with yours, a gesture of unity. She didn't even flinch or react to the ice cold skin of your palm "will you be okay?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. She knew being with Demetri was crucial now, despite the challenging circumstances that had led you to where you are but through all that, her concern for her younger sister prevailed.

You squeezed her hand as gently as possible and sent her a soft smile, you greatly appreciated her understanding as you knew this could not be easy for her "Yes" you spoke with heartfelt sincerity, meeting her eyes with unwavering honesty. "I'm okay, now that i'm with Demetri. He's my anchor and my support, I'm not alone in this"

"Promise me you'll come and be my maid of honour."

Bella's words surprised you, the request to be her maid of honor was a little unexpected and it stunned you momentarily, making you speechless for a moment. A smile tugged gently at the corners of your lips as her request sunk in.

It was a moment of vulnerability and a hint at the trust that was rebuilding between you two, the acknowledgment of the significance of you in her life. Your eyes locked with hers, seeing the sincerity in her eyes and the genuine hope that lingered "I promise," you whispered quietly, touched by the gesture.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

_________________________________________________________

And done :)

[happyk44]

Thinking about Luke getting a hold of Nico and convincing him that they can get revenge on Percy together and that Kronos can bring Bianca back for him. Imagine his thrill when he pieces together that Nico is a child of Hades - perfect for reviving Kronos, perfect for a host.

Thinking about Percy dreaming of Nico and seeing him laughing next to Luke. He still looks sad, but he's not as soaked in misery as he used to be. He has a goal, he has a plan. Percy is terrified. He doesn't yet know that Luke knows who Nico is.

Thinking about the group stumbling into Nico in the Labyrinth. Percy begs Nico to come with them, to leave Luke behind. Nico spits out that Luke isn't scared of him. Luke is helping him. No matter how Percy tries to insist Luke isn't really planning on helping him bring back Bianca, that he just wants to use Nico, Nico is defiant.

And then the Titan army arrives. And Luke places a strong hand on Nico's shoulder. They're surrounded. Luke is teasing Percy that Nico is going to be the child of the prophecy. He tells Nico it's time to complete their revenge. Annabeth and Grover are panicking, screaming, begging. Percy's heart plunges into his stomach. Nico looks hesitant but approaches him anyway. His sword is too big for him.

He looks so small.

He looks so young.

And Percy is suddenly enraged. He doesn't care about himself. He cares about his friends. He cares about his mom. He cares about Nico, and the words he spoke the night he ran away.

I choose the prophecy. It will be about me.

Luke doesn't get to take that away from him. Luke doesn't get to make a child his toy. Luke doesn't get use Nico like this. He's supposed to be happy, and smiling, and living life while Percy fights in his place.

The anger is like a tsunami. Nico gasps before the wave falls, when it crests to its very peak in Percy's chest, a bitter, spiteful, raging thing. He knows what's going to happen before it does. Can feel it just as strong as Percy feels it.

The ground trembles beneath them. Cracks shatter across the dirt. The people holding Percy down choke. Blood bursts from their eyes, their mouths. Everyone backs up. Horror doesn't begin to describe thier faces. Luke startles back, then steadies his sword and snaps words that Percy can't hear over the sound of the tsunami inside him collapsing and drowning everything in its path.

Other people rush forward to stop him. They explode - blood, viscrea, water. Luke grabs Nico by the arm. Percy sees red.

It's not good enough, he thinks. It's not good enough to have him die so quickly. No, no, Luke needs to suffer. He needs to boil from the inside out. Needs to be paralyzed as blood fills his lungs.

He needs to drown.

Someone is screaming Percy's name, but he doesn't know who. Can't hear it under every predatory step he takes forward. All the mess around them puddles together and pulls Luke flat to the ground. He's choking, he's gasping, he's dying.

He's like a fish out of water.

Percy is thrilled.

He places one hand on Nico's shaking shoulder and pulls him to the side, protectively behind him and watches with heavy fascination as Luke bursts. The flood inside him quells. He breathes air and it tastes wrong in his mouth, in his lungs. He exhales and breathes again. Feels better the second and third time. Not quite right, but not bad either.

Nico is still shaking when Percy turns on him. He lowers himself to his height and presses a wet hand to his face.

"It's okay," he promises. "I can protect you this time. I will protect you."

[moonlightazriel]

Caring /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: “heyy! can i get an azriel x reader fic where she’s taking care of him like cleaning his wings and washing his hair and all while he tells her about his day? like super fluffy and cute and domestic. thank you bby and feel free to drop this request if you don’t feel like writing it <3”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 970

Notes: Thank you @cityofidek for requesting this, I loved writing it. Fluff Az is everything to me ❤️❤️❤️

Main Masterlist

My eyes followed the words on the page, the book Nesta recommended was exciting, a little too obscene but it was the kind of book that made you devour the pages, eager for more as the story progressed. My hand gripped the cushion as the storyline came to an unexpected turn, the lead female having to decided between saving her lover or herself.

I wasn’t aware of my surroundings neither that i was holding my breath until Azriel’s voice sounded in the doorway, my chest rising rapidly as I closed the book, my eyes looking away from the pages and landing on my mate. My mouth fell open and my eyes were so wide that they almost popped out my eye socket.

“Oh Mother, what happened to you?” I breathed out as i kept looking up and down him, he was a mess, he had mud covering his body, some droplets of blood on his face, his hair completely disheveled and a shy smile on his lips.

“We decided to train outside Velaris, maybe fly a little, but suddenly started to rain and Cassian thought that it was a good idea and he started a mud fight.” Azriel eyed me from behind his lashes, like a child trying not to be scolded, my ears finally hearing the soft tapping of the rain on the windows.

“The three of you are really Illyrian babies, aren’t you?” I giggled at him and got up, discarding the book on my previous seat and walking towards him. “Let’s get you cleaned, baby boy.” He happily let me take his dirty hand and guide him to the main bathroom.

He stripped his clothes off while I filled the bathtub, choosing some of my favorite scents and shaking the water to form bubbles, sitting on the side of the tub, I waited for Az to climb in, his big body splashing water as he submerged his head.

He rose again, bubbles on his hair as I reached for the shampoo bottle, applying some in my hand and starting to rub his hair, he rested his head on my lap, I didn’t care about getting wet, as he already had me soaking when he entered the tub.

“How was your day my love?” My hands gently washed through his locks, his hair falling adorably on his forehead while he kept his eyes closed.

“We didn’t feel like training in the House of Wind today, so we just headed to the woods.” I lifted my eyebrows, they loved the space and how practical the sparring ring was there.”

“There was something wrong with the House?”His eyes opened a little and his cheeks were colored on a bright red, i leaned down, kissing the tip of his nose as he looked adorable that way.

“Nesta and the Valkyries wanted to do solo training, so she kicked us out.” I snorted and he smiled, picturing Nesta with her hands resting on her hips while she sent them away. “So the woods seemed a good idea, we used to go there to train when we were young.” I removed the shampoo and grabbed a cloth, soaking it with soap and moved, getting behind him to clean his chest and wings.

Azriel’s lips parted and a breathy moan escaped him, the cloth dragging on his wings, rubbing the spots where the mud had dried out, I knew that his wings were sensitive in a sexual way, but in these intimate moments, where we just did something together and listened to each other, this kind of touch never turned him on, he just hummed and enjoyed the comfort he would feel as my finger slid on his wings, the feeling of love suffocating the lust, he felt safe when I did that.

“We were doing a intense training when the first drops of rain fell, and suddenly it was a whole thunderstorm, the heavy drops soothing my sore muscles. Mud start flying everywhere as our feet hit the ground.” My hands got down his chest, cleaning his collarbone and shoulders, his head turned to the side and he placed a kiss on my arm. “Then Cassian fell on his ass, Rhys and i stopped and started laughing at him, you should have seen his face, he was so mad that he grabbed a hand full of mud, throwing at Rhysand, and he just did the same and we ended up hiding in the woods trying to hit the other.”

“Did you win?” His smile widened and he opened his eyes, looking at me.

“Not to brag, but I’m sure Rhysand and Cassian are still removing mud from their mouths right now.” I giggled and he rested his head against my arm.

“I knew you would beat those two losers.” I joked and Az laughed, his chest rising and the sound reverberating on the walls. “I think you’re all set, mister.” I said getting up and heading to our bedroom to find something for him to wear. He showed up behind me, the towel wrapped around his waist while he dried his hair with another, I gave him his clothes and got to the bathroom to clean the mess.

Changing clothes, I hopped on bed with him, pulling him closer until his head rested on my chest, one of my hands resting on his back and the other one caressing his hair, I could feel the slowly rising of his chest as he started drifting to sleep, his tired body gaining it’s deserved rest as i hummed, singing to him, a melody that I heard once the bond snapped, the kind of melody that tells me that I finally found my home.

[catt-leya]

Hiiii

I was wondering if you could write a fic with the prompts; 1,9, and 17 :)

If not it’s okay! Have a good day!!

Drunk (18+) || Rick Grimes

1. This cock isn't going to suck itself

9. Don't give me that look

17. I really dont care, you look hot and I'm trying not to fuck you senseless right now

Summary: You are wearing a red lipstick at a party and Rick can't get his eyes off you.

Trigger: dirty talk, semi public sex and my smutty stuff

With your lips pressed together, you stare into the mirror in front of you and try to suppress the slight tremor in your hand.

Concentrating, you frown and try not to paint yourself on, like a clown.

It's been ages since you've put on makeup, and when your best friend Charlie brought you that dark red lipstick, you didn't expect to even touch it, but now that she's decided to celebrate her birthday the way it used to be done, with plenty of alcohol and music, you've decided to give the lipstick a try.

The only problem is that you haven't been this stressed in a long time, as you have been for the last 20 minutes trying to somehow get this nonsense together.

You hold your breath and before you can draw the final line, your boyfriend calls out from the kitchen, "Honey? Is everything okay? You've been in the bathroom a long time."

Tense, you answer loudly, "Five minutes, then we can go. Are you wearing the shirt I laid out for you?"

You hear an approving hum and turn your attention back to lipstick's instrument of torture.

Concentrating, you pull the last line and lean back to inspect your work.

You didn't go overboard with the makeup, but the lipstick is fierce.

Unfortunately, you also have no idea how well it will hold up and where you'll end up leaving lipstick marks when you're drunk too, but for now, you look good.

Especially with the white dress, you look like you did before the walker Invasion.

You set your lipstick down on the edge of the sink and turn away from the mirror to walk over to your boyfriend, who is surprisingly patiently waiting for you.

As you go round the corner, he's just rolling up the second sleeve from the blue shirt you picked out for him.

Rick looks so good in that blue shirt that you mentally pat yourself on the back.

Quietly, you clear your throat, "I'm ready."

Smiling, he turns to you and freezes when he sees you.

You stare openly at him, too, because he looks so…clean.

There's usually dirt stuck to his face and he's wearing his pants, which are probably older than you are.

But today he's wearing new pants and his hair is neatly combed back, too.

Not to mention his beard, which he's trimmed, and his eyes, which only shine brighter at the sight of you.

Rick always thinks you're beautiful. Whether you walk up to him drenched in walker blood or wearing one of his old shirts.

But today you look to him as if you had fallen straight from heaven and he was not worthy of you at all.

The short white dress hugs your thighs and the thin straps of the dress leave a lot to his imagination.

But the red lipstick takes away all innocence from the dress.

He can't help but stare at your lips and is sure that every guy at the party would turn to look at you.

Even when you're out in shorts, he sees guys looking around for you, but today they'll be lusting after you and he'll have to block everything and everyone out without thinking too long about how your red lips might leave marks on his skin.

He pulls himself together not to gape openly at you and reaches out a hand to you, "You look incredible."

The way he looks at you and tries to reach for you brings a blush to your face, and you clear your throat softly as your fingers cup his, "You look great too, Rick."

As soon as he can touch you, he pulls you to him.

He's pulled so hard on your hand that you're swaggering against him, having to brace yourself with your hand against his chest to keep from landing face down in his pretty blue shirt and soaking it completely, "Wow, slow."

Greedily, his gaze slides back to your lips and you lightly punch his broad chest, "Don't even think about it. It took me forever to get the lipstick like that, so you can give me a kiss on the cheek, but stay the hell away from my mouth."

You see his eyes slide to your neckline for a moment before he looks you in the eye again and smiles slightly, "I love you."

Your heart warms and you turn your cheek to him, "I love you too and now give me that kiss already. I deserve it."

As you demand, he leans forward and presses his soft lips to your heated cheek before murmuring softly against your skin, "You smell so damn good."

When Rick speaks as softly as he does now, his voice is a little deeper than normal and your whole body reacts to this small change.

Of course he senses it and asks in that exact tone, "You sure you don't want me to ruin that lipstick?"

His hips are pressed against you and his closeness clouds your thoughts so you almost say 'Do it', but at the last moment you break away from him and shake your head laughing, "Stop it."

Rick lowers his head a little to look at you through his lashes, knowing full well you're going for it, but you lift a finger and wave it back and forth in front of him, "That's it. Stop hitting on me like that. It's not fair."

His smile widens and he gives you a quick nod, "And I don't think the dress is fair."

Playfully, you roll your eyes and walk past him to the door, "I'm sure Charlie's waiting."

As you expected, an extremely large amount of alcohol is flowing and you wonder how Charlie was able to find these masses in the first place, but when she falls around your neck and shortly after also presses the first glass of wine into your hand, you already don't care so much anymore.

At the effusive greeting, Rick has taken his hand off your back and after Charlie has fallen around his neck too, he announces that he's going to go find Daryl.

Once he's out of earshot, I quietly ask Charlie, "How did you get Daryl to show up here? He's not into that at all."

Coquettishly, she adjusts her dark green dress and chirps, "I have some talents that can be extremely persuasive, sweetheart."

Laughing, I shake my head, preferring not to ask further.

"Red looks really good on you," she says with a wink and grabs my hand, "Come on. The others were already betting on when you'd show up and your lover would finally get his hands off you."

In fact, you never expected to find a best friend in Alexandria, let alone a group of four people who are incredibly important to you.

But now you're heading toward your friends Jon, Ellen, and Marc with Charlie, and you're pulled right in by the latter, "Well, here you are at last."

Grinning, you take a sip from your glass, "You guys act like I arrived hours late, when it's maybe half an hour. Tops."

Ellen raises her glass of bronze-colored liquid to her lips and finishes it in my gulp before wiggling her eyebrows, "So what happened in that half hour."

You take a sip from your glass, too, "Stop with the dirty thoughts. It's not like we're gonna fuck all day."

Quietly, Charlie mutters, "That's not what I heard."

"What?" you stare at her and she shrugs her shoulders with a grin, "Harry takes care of the gardens, and on the odd occasion he once told me that you two were doing it like rabbits. Besides, you both like to leave the windows open and when he cuts the bushes, he hears interesting things. Especially how your lover likes to order you to bend over and-"

Before she can finish the sentence, you tear yourself away from Marc and press your hand over her mouth, "Okay, got it. Harry? Seriously?"

Wordlessly she nods and you take dhand from her lips, "How old is he, 15? 16?"

Jon stares to the other side of the room and purses his lips, "Bullshit. He's 20 and probably so horny without access to porn that he'll happily listen to your free show."

Shit.

But there are worse things in the world than a boyfriend who loves you immensely and a 20 year old who tells around that Rick likes to make you his little slut during sex.

Sighing, you raise your glass, "Let's get another round. After all, we have to toast to my terrific sex life."

It doesn't stay with this one round and at some point Jon disappears to, in his words, 'test out what this guy is like' and by that he means a guy who came to Alexandria a few days ago and hasn't been able to take his eyes off Jon since and the other way around, it hasn't been any better.

Your field of vision wavers a bit as you look to Charlie and Marc, who are discussing whether vodka or tequila is the better alcohol, as large hands lay on your stomach from behind.

You wince briefly, but quickly realize that it's only Rick, who is completely drunk and presses himself against you from behind.

You wait to see what he's up to, and you don't have to wait long before he lowers his head and murmurs in your ear, "I hate that these guys are looking at you like they can have you."

Fueled by the alcohol, you press your ass against his crotch, "What guys?"

His breath is hot and heavy as he hums, "To your left at the bar."

Your gaze slides to the bar Rick described and sure enough, there are three men you've seen from time to time on the streets of Alexandria sitting there staring at you, one of them less in your face and more focused on your body. They don't seem to care that their leader has his crotch pressed against you, his hands sliding from your belly over your ribs and holding under your breasts.

Only his thumb brushes the underside of your breasts and you take a shaky breath, "Touch me."

He laughs hoarsely against your neck, "Dirty girl. Right here? Where everyone can see how well your tits fit in my hands?"

You don't take your eyes off the three men and breathlessly say, "Yes, Rick. Now."

You're tipsy, but Rick is drunk to the core and doesn't give a damn that you've invited him to touch you in public, and reaches out with his right hand to grab your breast.

His hand fits your boob perfectly and you gasp softly, "They are still looking at me."

"Why are you telling me this?" he growls against your neck and as he squeezes tighter, you sigh softly, "Because I want you to realize that they can stare at me as long as they want, but you're the one who gets to touch me like this."

A 'fuck' slips from Rick's lips as you press harder against his hardening cock, and he sends a shove prayer to the heavens that he's had a few too many glasses, but not so much that he can't fuck you anymore.

Your nipple in his hand tightens and sliding a hand to your thigh, you gasp softly, "I have a secret to tell you, Rick."

He starts spreading wet kisses down your neck, mumbling between them, "Hmmm," so you say in a raspy voice, "I didn't have panties to go with the dress because you would have seen everything under the white dress, so I didn't wear any at all."

It takes a few seconds before it gets through to Rick that you're naked down below, and he could just stuff his fingers in your pussy right now without having to worry about disturbing layers of fabric first.

His cock presses uncomfortably against his pants and just as he's about to slide his hand under your dress, Charlie shrieks, "Guys. For real now? We're standing right next to you."

Tighter than Rick would have given her credit for, she grabs his wrist and tugs his hand off your thigh, "Rick Grimes. Stop drunkenly groping my best friend right now while you're still at my party."

Rick freezes behind you and you can't hold back your laughter as you see Charlie's face, "Oops?"

At that, you wonder how she even knows it's her birthday. Especially since you can't even tell what month it is, but you actually trust Charlie to have been counting, so you don't question it further and she shakes her head with a grin, "New episode for Harry?"

Confused, Rick looks first at Charlie and then at you, "Huh?"

It occurs to you that Rick doesn't know anything yet about you having a 20 year old in your backyard and instead of telling him, you gently push his hand off your boob and intertwine his fingers with yours instead.

Reluctantly, he allows you to pull his hand from your soft tit and breathes a feather-light kiss on your cheek as you look to your best friend with eyes glittering with anticipation, "We'll be right back."

He can't help but grin victoriously in the direction of the three idiots as you pull him by his hand through the clusters of people and Charlie yells after you over the music, "Not in my room."

To be honest, he doesn't even know where you're going with him, but he's sure he'll get his money's worth, so he stumbles more than walks after you and lets you push him into a small bathroom that adjoins the living room.

He takes a few steps inside and his eyes have to adjust to the sparse light of the candles standing around before he turns to you and watches you push the door shut with your back and look at him with huge eyes.

The candlelight flatters Rick's already handsome features immensely and you can't stop looking at him.

You've barely seen Rick since you arrived at the party a few hours ago, and now you wonder how that was even possible.

The shirt sits tight against his shoulders and his forearms are only accentuated by the rolled up sleeves, making your heart beat faster.

Your eyes wander back up to his face and the way a few curls fall into his forehead makes your knees go weak. He looks so bold and like your biggest dream at the same time.

God, he's beautiful.

It's almost ridiculous how easily he can read what you're thinking about in your face, and the look you're giving him right now leaves nothing to the imagination.

He realizes he doesn't have the smallest ego, but when you look at him like you'll do anything for him, it just drives it up.

"Get on your knees," is all you need to hear to groan softly, and though your first reaction would be to do exactly what he's asking, you bat your eyelashes seductively, "You're ruining my lipstick with that, Rick." And at the same time you couldn't care less, but you just want to tease him a little, which works very well, because by doing so you draw his gaze to your mouth and his drunken brain can't force him to look you in the eye instead.

When you part your lips to take a deep breath, he doesn't care how rude he sounds as he growls, "On. Your. Knees. This cock isn't going to suck itself."

You hesitate for a brief moment, wondering if you want to take it any further, but decide against it because you can't wait to hear Rick's deep growl yourself as he thrusts his tip all the way down your throat.

So you take a few small steps towards him and submissively drop to your knees in front of him and look up at him.

He would probably never forget the image of you kneeling in front of him in your innocent dress without panties and about to spread your red lipstick on his hard cock.

How you're looking at him with wide eyes and he could take it all from you.

The cool tile under your knees makes the pressure between your legs a little more bearable as you watch Rick pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs and hold his cock in front of your face.

He loves to see you waiting to finally start and when you open your pretty mouth, he doesn't hesitate for a second before pushing his tip between your lips and having to grab the sink rim next to him at the sensation to keep from pushing his cock all the way down your throat.

Still wide-eyed, you look up at him as he fills your mouth and he reaches into your hair, "Don't give me that look."

You know full well that looking at him while you suck him off drives him crazy, but you save that privilege for right now and temporarily fix your eyes on his cock, sliding it into your mouth again and again, leaving red screams from your lips each time.

Rick grip in your hair is so tight that you can barely move more than back and forth and when it almost hurts, you put your hands on his thighs and dig your fingers in.

It's not long before he's just holding your head in place, moaning as he thrusts deep into your throat again and again.

Each thrust brings tears to your eyes and when he slides so deep into your mouth that your nose hits his pubic bone, you gag.

The gag reflex makes Rick's cock twitch and when you think you can't breathe anymore, you look up at him.

Staring down at you with his mouth open, he can't believe he deserves you.

Seeing you like this is more than he deserves.

How tears run down your cheeks because you don't want to disappoint him and try as hard as you can not to gag.

How all your lipstick is smeared and your fingers cling to his thighs as he fucks your mouth.

Another vibration goes through his body as you start to gag again and he pulls you away from his cock moaning.

His whole body is screaming to cum in your mouth and make you swallow it all, but he knows you're wet and without your panties, it's probably sticking to your thighs, which he's dying to see.

As soon as he lets go of you, you support yourself with your hands on the cold tiles below you and take a gasping breath.

Your makeup has become so indifferent in the last few minutes that you wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and dry your tears, not caring if you now look like something out of a horror movie.

You take one last deep breath and then softly gasp, "I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop gagging. I can do better than that."

Only then do you look at him again and he bites his lower lip hard, "I know, honey."

You feel the need to please him, and that includes giving him the kind of blowjob he can actually expect from you.

But today went anything but as you expected, and he nods to the door and growls, "Go."

Pleading, you look him in the eye, "Don't send me away. Let me try again. Please."

You couldn't stand to have to wait outside the door while he jerks off because you weren't able to satisfy him.

But before you can go back to begging, he brushes a few strands of hair out of your face and smiles gently at you, "Relax. I'm not sending you away."

He puts a hand to your chin and strokes your swollen lower lip with his thumb, "You did good, honey."

Briefly, he slips his thumb between your lips, but before you can suck on it, he withdraws his hand and murmurs, "But you're probably so wet you're soaking the whole floor. Do you really think I'd want to jerk myself off when you're more than willing and ready to let me fuck you? I want you to go to the door and brace yourself there, understand?"

You have to blink several times before what he wants from you gets through to you, and then you push yourself up off the floor.

Your knees are soft with excitement and the alcohol in your body makes you feel everything even more intensely when you turn your back to him and he immediately grabs you by the waist because you're swaying a bit.

Slowly, he pushes you towards the door and breathing heavily, you rest your palms on the it.

You don't even have to look to know that Rick is standing inches behind you as he softly breathes, "Do you want me?"

You squint your eyes and push your ass toward him, "Yes, Rick."

Gently, he pulls you away from the door a little more, so that your hands slide a little lower and you're bent forward so that all he'd have to do is lift your dress to thrust his cock into you.

But where would be the fun in that?

He puts both hands on your thighs and drives them up to your butt, so he can put your dress down on your hips.

Naked and vulnerable, you stand bent over in front of him, presenting your most intimate part, as he takes a step back and sighs proudly, "I knew it was already running down your thighs."

At his words, your pussy tightens and you realize yourself how embarrassingly wet you already are for him.

Silently, he watches you as you whimper softly, trying to hide how much you need it, and when you snivel, "Please" he finally buckles and steps behind you again, "I'm right here, honey."

You lower your head and moan miserably as he slides his cock long through your pussy before attaching his tip to your entrance and gripping your hip firmly, "Good girl. Be loud for me."

You've always been a louder partner in bed, and Rick never thought he could get off on it like this, but the first time he slept with you, it went to his head how loud you could get and end up screaming his name.

Even now you're gasping loudly as he presses himself inch by inch into your wet warmth and growls himself, "Fuck, how can you still be so fucking tight after I fuck you almost every day?"

You know he doesn't expect an answer and as he's inside you with his entire length, your legs start to shake and you whimper, "You have to hold me."

Quietly he replies, "I always hold you, don't I, my darling?" And your heart leaps.

No matter how long you've been together, you still haven't gotten used to how important you are to Rick and what he wouldn't do for you.

You trust him unconditionally, and that's what it takes to engage in the kind of sex you have with him. You know that he wouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to and he knows exactly how far he can go.

He gets closer behind you and you try to pull away from him a bit, so that he's not quite so deep inside you.

Then his grip tightens and he growls softly, "You like it when my cock is inside you, huh? Be a good girl and squeeze it. I know you feel stuffed, but do it for me."

When he talks to you like that, you can't help but do as he says, and you moan in sync as you tense your muscles and feel every inch of his cock deep inside you.

He pulls out of you far too slowly for your liking, only to thrust into you hard again, and you have to use all your strength to keep your arms from buckling and slamming you head against the door.

Groaning, he thrusts into you again and each time you have the feeling of feeling him deeper inside you.

As he gasps your name you lift your head a little and look over your shoulder at him, almost cumming for the sight alone.

His face flushed, he bites down hard on his lower lip and the vein on his neck stands out clearly.

You're barely able to make anything but high-pitched noises when your eyes fall on the door and you wince, "Rick, the door."

Between thrusts he growls, "What about it?"

His cock hits the right spot inside you at that moment and you jerk around him and yip, "The party's right on the other side. They can hear everything."

That's when he grabs your hair again and pulls your head back enough to growl in your ear, "I really dont care, you look hot and Im trying not to fuck you senseless right now."

With that, your hands slide off the door and Rick presses your back against his chest.

Before you can even bring a sound past your lips, his mouth is already on yours, pushing his tongue into you without restraint.

Again you tighten around him and notice a knot forming in your stomach and whimper into his mouth, "I'm cumming. I can't hold it back."

In a low voice he grunts, "Let go. Tighten around me and show me how much you want me."

That's when a high and drawn out sound releases from your throat and with the first contraction Rick's cock starts twitching too and gasping he fucks us through your climax.

You cling limply to Rick's hand as he sets you down and pulls up his pants with his free hand, "I love you."

You smile weakly at him and murmur, "I love you too."

All the adrenaline is pumped out of you and even Rick seems a little sluggish as he helps you clean yourself up and then wipes the remnants of your make up off your face with a wet rag and says softly, "You looked really great with that red lipstick, but you don't need that at all. You look downright gorgeous as it is."

Gently, you smile at him and take him by the hand as you open the door and step out.

Immediately, a handful of heads turn to look at you two and Charlie appears next to us with her lower lip pushed forward.

Reproachfully, she looks at Rick, "Can you please tell a few gentlemen your secret to making her scream like that? I want to experience that sometime."

Then she looks at you and laughs softly, "Maybe you should get the remnants of your lipstick off your lover's face too."

You jerk your head around and sure enough, Rick looks like he's kissed a bloody wound.

He looks at you questioningly and you set about salvaging what can be salvaged with your fingers and sigh softly, "Why does that lipstick actually look better on you than it does on me?"

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @acciocarlgrimes @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @targaryensswp @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 🤭)

[littlesparklight]

Can you imagine what sort of a horror show every single person who was out under the blood(y) rain Zeus sent for Sarpedon's death look like at the end of the day?

Like, we're talking blood, here.

Sure, everyone in general would be spattered with blood and dirt, but that's blood coming from being close enough to not avoid a spurt aimed at you. Rain is falls from above, getting all over you.

They're all completely soaked and coated.

Any fabric not covered by armour, soaked through and undoubtedly unsalvageable. Gumming up any hair not covered by helmets. Little rivulets of clean skin where sweat has washed away the blood, otherwise faces, arms, legs, everything coated in uneven streaks of blood, which turn sticky and then forms a thin coat of armour of its own as it coagulates and dries...

I imagine the Trojans and their allies must've been walking a train to the river the clean up, since the night after is the one they're staying outside. They'd have to have new clothes brought from the city. The Achaeans would have to use the sea.

Just.

Sticky red, everywhere.

[pyromaniac4198]

puppets

i had the idea for a single scene from a fic but couldn't think of what else would be in such a fic so i decided to put it to tumblr. if you want to write the fic just send me the link

TW: clone abuse, mind manipulation, Palpatine being a sleemo.

“CC-1010, execute orders 13 and 14,” the chancellor commanded, before pointing to a corner between two bronze statues. “And then kneel in that circle, drawn on the floor.” Palpatine smiled, reveling in the despair of the clone trooper as his body moved against his will to turn off his helmet cam and kneel in the rune circle.

“Supreme Chancellor, sir,” the intercom on Palpatine’s desk buzzed, “knight Skywalker is here to visit you.”

“Send him in.” Immediately after Palpatine spoke, the blond jedi strode through the door. When he saw Fox, kneeling in the corner, his eyes dimmed and glazed until he turned away.

“Chancellor! It’s so good to see you again, I’ve been on campaign for months. How have you been since I left?” At Palpatine’s gesture, Anakin sat down on the low, black bench across from the mahogany desk. “Has the senate been giving you trouble again?”

“They have,” Palpatine started, picking up a large square stamp out of a pad soaked in Fox’s blood and hiding it in his large sleeve. “But I’m feeling much better, now that I’ve seen you again.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anakin started to grin, “but really h-“ as the jedi’s smile pressed his eyes shut, Palpatine struck, pressing the stamp to Anakin’s forehead where it imprinted bloody runes. Immediately, the boy’s face slackened, his eyes opening back up but appearing more purple than blue and entirely vacant. Palpatine gestured as if pulling something, and an image like a 3-dimensional map appeared, except in white and red instead of blue.

“Do you see this, clone?” he said, pointing to the lowest level of the structure, which was a pyramid of increasingly small pavilions held up by Nubian-style columns. “Do you see how this lower level has columns that have been Darkened?” He pulled his hand through the projection, and a red thread followed his fingers.

“These are the pillars of his sanity. Beautiful, aren’t they?” He tied the string around one of the white columns. “It is such a shame that I have to Darken them one at a time, or his mind will automatically purge the Dark, but it does give me more options.”

He laughed.

“Soon enough, there will be enough Darkened pillars that his sanity will crumble, and he’ll have just as much control over himself as you do, when your control chip is activated. This slow movement gives me time to decide whether I want him to be too delirious to disobey, or for him to truly believe that everything I say must be perfectly true. Either way, within the year he will be obeying so well that I can order him to kill all the younglings in the jedi temple and he won’t even consider not doing so. Wont it be glorious?” He turned back to fox, grabbing his chin and wrenching his head up painfully. “Tell me it will be glorious, commander.”

“It will be glorious, your Excellency.” Fox felt like pukeing, as his body spoke the words without his consent. the Sith smiled and turned back around.

“My masterpiece is almost complete.” He banished the image, putting his grandfatherly façade back on. “In just over a year, now, this republic will become my Empire.” He used the Force to clean off the general’s forehead.

“-ow’ve you been?” Anakin continued on with his sentence, not noticing that anything happened. Palpatine smiled and gave a grandfatherly laugh, offering to order food for them both.

An hour later, the food eaten and the young knight sent away, the chancellor turned to fox one last time.

“Perhaps I will pay a visit to Senator Amidala today, and use the Force to make her more … fertile … than she naturally would be. After all, my soon-to-be apprentice is so family oriented, his wife entering a delicate state may speed his Fall. My empire may come in as little as 8 months, instead of 14.” the Nubian man sat at his desk. “What do you think, clone?”

“Whatever your excellency decides is best, your excellence.”

“Good. Stand, CC-1010. Wash that circle off of my floor.”

As Fox’s body moved, he ruminated. This wasn’t the first time he had seen his excellency do force osik, of course, as Darth Sidious loved to gloat, but this was a low that Fox hadn’t yet seen. The future the chancellor spoke of was horrific, and fox wished it were possible to kill him to avert it. At least fox would have control over his own thoughts, even if not his body. It was a cold comfort, but it seemed General Skywalker wouldn’t even have that.

Fox strode out of the chancellor’s office wishing that sometime soon the chancellor would forget to call order 14 so he could talk about what happened when the chancellor required his presence.

[its-jaytothemee]

Tonight...And Every Night - Chapter 1

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav; Astarion and Tav POVs

Word count: 1,354; Chapter 1 Tav POV

Rating: Mature

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav fails to convince Astarion to reject the Rite of Profane Ascension and refuses to help him complete it. He leaves her and the party, but regrets his choices later. Angsty and fluffy, POVs from both Astarion and Tav.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spawn!Astarion, Angst w/ Happy Ending

Author's Note: This was inspired by my playthrough where I somehow failed all of the persuasion checks for Astarion after the Cazador fight, leaving me obviously devastated. First three chapters will come together, then hopefully one or two at a time after that!

Tav walked through the blood that soaked into every crevice of the dungeon floor. Her arms were heavy from swinging her massive greatsword through undead flesh. The red glow from the magic holding six of Cazador’s seven spawn cast a sinister shadow on the scene before her. Astarion stood shirtless, breathing heavily, a wild mask of pain and rage spread across his face. He stood above a kneeling Cazador, his master, his torturer. Holding an intricate dagger that was constructed around a small wooden stake, he was finally able to face down the source of his torment on his own terms. Shadowheart and Gale watched behind them, wary of any potential reinforcements that could interrupt them. Halsin followed Tav, staying a few steps behind her as she approached her lover.

“Astarion…” She spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His eyes snapped up to her, but he remained silent.

“Go on, boy.” Cazador spat, unable to hide the pain he felt.

“One more thrust…” Astarion started slowly, and for a moment, Tav saw the angry mask start to crack, “and I’ll be free of you. I’ll never have to fear you again.” He took a deep breath.

“But if I finish the ritual you started,” His face twisted once again, this time into something unrecognizable, “I’ll never have to fear anyone ever again.”

Tav felt her stomach drop. This is what she had been afraid of from the moment they set foot in Baldur’s Gate. Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion. Cazador was speaking back to Astarion, still looking smug. She shook the fog from her mind and focused again.

“…I made you to be consumed.” Cazador sneered, obviously enjoying the pain this was causing his spawn.

“I am so much more than what you made me!” Astarion shot back, his breathing even quicker than before. He turned to face Tav.

“I can do this, but I’ll need your help.” The face before her was twisted beyond recognition from the beautiful pale elf she had fallen in love with.

“Astarion, if you do this, you’ll be killed.” She could feel her voice breaking as she said the words. Being this close to the horrible power of the Rite of Profane Ascension was warping him and she feared its pull would be too strong for her to drag him away. He responded with a laugh, the sound would usually fill her with warmth, but today it just filled her with dread.

“Don’t worry darling, I know what I’m doing. You can show me my scars using the tadpole, which I can then carve into Cazador.” He spat out Cazador’s name with a particular venom in his tone.

“What?” Cazador sat up abruptly and Astarion kicked him back down.

“You’ll kill all of those prisoners! People you brought here for him! You can’t condemn them to death again, not after we promised their families!” She couldn’t hide the shaking in her voice.

“These people died years ago! They’re nothing, nothing compared to the power I can obtain from their souls. They can serve a higher purpose.” His voice was growing louder, his tone more desperate.

“Astarion please…” She pleaded.

“This is what we need, my dear. With this power, we can have a life together, a real life. Isn’t that what you want?” Tears were gathering at the edges of his eyes.

“Of course I do, but not like this! What kind of life can we have that’s built on the destruction of seven thousand lives?” She could feel the blood rushing to her face, rising with her voice, tears stinging the cuts on her cheek. She forced herself to soften her tone.

“I want you to be able to live a life you’re proud of, my love. You can’t tell me you would be proud of this. All I need is you, exactly as you are.” She held his gaze and watched his expression darken at her words.

“Are you going to help me or not?” His voice was as cold as ice. All traces of the love and affection he had shown her in their time together was gone. This was not the Astarion she knew, this was the tortured, desperate vampire spawn who was mere moments away from ultimate power and revenge. She had hoped that she could be enough for him, that she could help him let go, but now she realized it was all a fool’s hope. How could someone like her ever be more tempting than that kind of power?

Behind Tav, she heard her companions voicing their protests to Astarion, begging him to reconsider. She heard Halsin speaking to her, pleading with her to resist him. She could barely comprehend what they were saying, her own thoughts were a raging storm threatening to drown her at sea. As the overlapping voices started to fill the chamber, Tav kept her eyes locked on Astarion’s. She was searching, taking in every line and detail of his face trying to find a crack in the mask. But there was nothing. The pit in her stomach threatened to swallow her whole as she had a choice to make. Condemn seven thousand innocent souls, including children, to their death, or risk losing the man she loved.

“I…I can’t…” Her voice cracked, tears coming more forcefully now, “I won’t.” The look of betrayal on his face cut deeper than any sword. He frantically looked from her to their other companions, who silently took her side.

“Fine. Then I guess I’ll just have to enjoy this.” He turned to Cazador and grabbed him by the hair to hold him in place. He screamed as he plunged the dagger into Cazador’s chest, over and over and over again. He continued stabbing Cazador’s dead body until his slick hands could no longer hold the dagger. His entire body was dripping with blood. He fell to his knees, half sobbing, half screaming, releasing two hundred years of pain and rage with his cries. Tav couldn’t remember hearing anything more heartbreaking. She waited a moment before taking some tentative steps toward him.

“Astarion…?” She called out to him quietly. He didn’t move or respond.

She continued moving toward him, slowly. Kneeling beside him, she reached out to try and touch his arm. He snapped his head toward her and slapped her hand away.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” He hissed. The hostility in his voice caused her to jump to her feet.

“I trusted you and you betrayed me.” His voice was quiet and angry.

“Astarion, I-” She tried to speak up, holding her stinging hand.

“You took everything from me.” He interrupted, glaring at her through his ruby eyes.

Tav stood there in stunned silence. She didn’t expect him to turn on her so quickly. While holding her gaze, her thoughts wandered back to the prisoners being held here. Her eyes briefly flashed to Cazador’s staff on the ground. Astarion caught the brief change in her gaze, and he let out a demented cackle.

“Oh no, darling. If I don’t get my freedom, then neither do those wretches rotting in the cells.” He lifted the staff off the ground, ready to break it over his leg.

“No!” Tav screamed.

Before she could move to grab it, a thorny vine whipped out from behind her and grabbed the staff out of his hands. She turned around to see Halsin gripping the staff with both hands, a look of pure disgust twisting his face. A small sigh of relief huffed out of her chest. Astarion let out a frustrated growl.

“Fine! Whatever this is…was…argh! It’s over.” He threw his hands up in frustration and turned to storm off. Tav took another step toward him, staring in disbelief. He turned to look over his shoulder and met her gaze. For just a moment, she could have sworn she saw remorse in his eyes, a small glimpse of her Astarion.

“I’d say good luck out there, but honestly,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I hope you all die screaming.” With that, he broke into a run towards the dungeon’s exit.