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star-writes-sometimes · 9 months ago

Text

green butter

word count - 2.2k

c.w. - drug use (marijuana, edibles), reader is said to be shorter than remus, idiots in love, pining, implied insecure reader

a/n - i don’t know if i liked how this turned out so i may rewrite and change the ending idk yet

—

you could hear remus snoring from where you were in the kitchen. the rest of your apartment was silent except for the soft snores. if you ever tried to mention it when he was awake, remus would always deny that he made any kind of noise when he slept, instead choosing to tease you about your habit of sleep talking when you’ve had too much to drink.

you were doing the dishes, cleaning up from making green butter earlier in the day. remus had been out the night before with sirius and james and he was exhausted. he was in your apartment for less than 10 minutes before he passed out on your couch.

you finished cleaning the last mixing bowl and left it on the drying rack. you dried your hands on a tea towel, threw it over your shoulder and made your way to your living room. you collapsed on the comfy armchair closest to the kitchen and simply watched remus sleep.

as if he could feel your gaze on him, he twitched in his sleep and rolled over so you could no longer see his face. you huffed in annoyance and used your sock covered foot to reach out and poke his shoulder.

“wake up please lupin.”

he just groaned and shifted tiredly.

“pleaaaseeee.”

he exhaled sharply and lifted his head up, his annoyed gaze meeting your amused one.

“good morning starshine. the earth says hello!”

“i prefer gene wilder.” remus runs a hand over his scarred face.

“i like ‘em both,” you moved to tuck your feet under you, “makes me feel bad choosing between two things.”

“really?” he smirked, “who do you prefer out of james and sirius?”

“well currently sirius cause he helped me do my makeup a few days ago but it changes depending on which one annoys me less.”

“good choice. james probably would’ve poked your eye out.” he finally sat up, smiling lazily at you, “whats the time?”

“it’s around five so you successfully napped through the afternoon.”

“good that was the aim.” remus stretched, lifting his shirt up slightly, exposing his happy trail.

“do you want dinner, love?”

“no thanks, bunny, but i’ll take some cookies if you’ve got any.”

“i actually need to make some for james and i was gonna make extra,” you paused to yawn, “but i seemed to have misplaced my motivation.”

“aww c’mon bunny,” he got off the couch and knelt in front of your chair, “please make some cookies.”

you tried desperately not to give into his masterful puppy dog eyes, “i thought you were too tired to do anything.”

“i had my nap, now i want time with my super awesome amazing girl who makes the most awesome amazing oatmeal weed cookies.” he pouted up at you, pulling you hand towards him and kissing it, “please baby?”

your resolve couldn’t crumble quicker, “fine, move you big lug i’ll go get started.”

you pushed him aside and walked back into the kitchen while remus trailed behind you closely.

"rem love, can you grab the sugar please?" you asked while pulling the eggs and butter.

"mhmm." he hummed in response.

you grabbed the vanilla extract and a bowl and started to cut up the butter into cubes.

remus came up behind you and placed the sugar on the counter then wrapped his arms around you.

"ooo green butter," he placed his chin onto your shoulder, pressing into you completely.

"yeah i made it earlier."

remus reached his hand around a grabbed a cube and quickly popped it in his mouth, "tastes great, bunny."

you swatted him on the side, "don't eat the butter."

"hey that's abuse." he grabbed another bit of butter and popped it into his mouth.

"remus if you eat the butter you'll get high before the cookies are even ready."

"no i won't," he ate another cube, "i'm not a lightweight like you."

"i'm not saying you're a lightweight, love."

he reached for another piece of butter but you slapped his hand before he could grab it.

"whats with all the abuse today?" he asked.

"go sit down and stop eating butter," you pointed to one of the kitchen stools on the other side of the bench you were working at.

remus watched you intently as you made the cookies. whenever you turned your back momentarily though, he would reach across and sneak another cube of the homemade butter.

eventually, once you got the first batch of cookies in the oven you start to clean up, including putting away all the ingredients.

“rem?”

“hmmm?”

“did you eat more butter?”

“you have no proof of that.”

“i made 500g of butter. i used 250g. there should be 250g left. this isn't 250g.”

“how can you tell that just by looking at it?”

“remus i'm a baker. i do this professionally.”

remus smiled guiltily, “whoops? i’m sorry i’ll help you make more butter tomorrow”

“rem, i couldn't give less of a fuck about the butter, i’m worried about how high you're about to get.”

“i told you, i am not a lightweight i'm not gonna get high off some butter.”

you roll your eyes and finish cleaning up the kitchen, “whatever you say remsy.”

—

forty two minutes later and remus was face down on your kitchen floor.

he groaned loudly as you took the third batch of cookies out of the oven. the room already smelled of a pleasant mix of weed and fresh baked cookies but opening the oven intensified it, hurting remus' already sore brain.

“it's cold, my face is cold, it's on something cold, the room smells, smells like a headache.” he babbled, voice muffled slightly by the ground.

“you are face first on the tiles, that's why your face is cold and the headache you smell is weed."

“ngh, no,” he protested and rolled over onto his back, “weed smells like awesome and this is a headache smell, are you baking a headache?”

you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you as you look down at his confused face, “you've overdone it, remmy.”

“noooo,” he whined and covered his face, “‘m not a lightweight.”

“you're not, darling,” you cooed and sat down on the floor next to him. you gently ran your hand through his hair.

he opened his eyes at the touch but immediately hissed and squinted, “bright light, there's a real bright light, i think i'm dying.”

you looked up at the ceiling and tried not to laugh, “that's the kitchen light, and the dying feeling is, once again, the weed.”

he rapidly sat up after you said that and stared at you intensely, “the weed is doing this to me?”

you couldn't help the giggle that slipped through, “yes, love.”

he looked very serious and glared at the ground before he muttered, “that fuckin' giraffe was right.”

it was your turn to be confused, “giraffe- do you mean harold?”

“that scary fucker was right.”

“you were scared of harold the giraffe?”

“he was tall and i couldn't trust his eyes.” he said with such a strong gaze you almost forgot how ridiculous the conversation was, “is he coming to take me?”

“h-harold? you think harold is coming to take you?”

“yeah, i broke his rules, i did drugs and now i'm paying the price, he's gonna come for me.”

you turned your head to laugh silently, not wanting to mock him (while he was like this, you were definitely mocking him in the morning), “love, harold won't come for you, and even if he did you're not a kid anymore, you're tall too.”

he nodded, like he understood, “yeah i’m tall, i could take that skinny twat.” he nodded, seemingly calm. until he once again jolted and looked at you extremely seriously, “you're short.”

“thank you for noticing rem,” you said, slightly sarcastically.

“harold will come for you because he knows i care about you. he'll take you from me.” he said in a panicky tone.

your touched by his care for you but also recognise the absurdity of what he's saying, “remmy, i promise i’m safe, i'm here with you.”

he gave you a look of determination and nodded. as quick as he could in his intoxication he wrapped his arms around your middle and re-laid down on the floor with you.

“remmy, what are you doing?” you asked, curious, not bothered by his actions.

“protecting you.” he said, voice muffled from where it was buried in your neck.

“hmm thank you,” you hummed out.

he held on tightly and quietly sat there holding you for a few blissful minutes, but the biting cold of the tiles wasn't the most comfortable in the february weather.

“remus, lovie?”

he tapped you as his way of responding, not loosening his grip.

“can we go to bed?”

he squeezed you tighter, “‘m not tired and i need to protect you.”

“i'm tired baby,” you said with a slight breathy laugh.

“i need you to be safe,” he mumbled against your neck.

“we'll stay together the whole time.”

“promise?” he said softly.

“pinky promise.”

at that he slowly rolled off of you but he made sure his hand was touching some part of you at all time - like he was scared you would disappear.

you went to your bedroom with remus following close behind, your fingers tightly threaded together. when you both stopped, remus re-wrapped his arms around you tightly, his large hands going underneath your loose tshirt.

“rem,” you whined softly, “what are you doing now?”

“‘m not close enough to you, need to get closer,” he mumbled and kissed the top of your head.

you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, “i don’t think we can get much closer than this.”

“sure we can bunny,” he said with a hint of mischief in his tone, “we can be much closer,”

“we already see each other everyday, spend most of our free time together, and-” his thumb rubbed against your ribs causing you to giggle slightly, “and that. how much closer can we be?”

you looked up at him just in time to see his smirk. he pressed a kiss to your temple and used his free hand to brush your hair behind your ear, “nowhere near close enough,” he said softly and kissed your cheek.

you held your breath. his touch made you shiver. your skin erupted in goosebumps and you leaned closer to him. he gripped your chin and looked into your eyes.

his eyes were bloodshot.

he was high.

you stepped back slightly at the reminder. you grabbed his hands in your own and led him towards your bed, “c’mon rem, bedtime.”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, “what? bunny, i want us to be closer.”

“you’re high, love, you’ll feel different in the morning,” you said softly, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“no, i won’t, why do you never believe me?” he asked.

“because you only say this stuff when you’re high.”

he slumped over with his forehead resting on your shoulder, “‘m not saying it cause i’m high, the high makes me say the truth.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and pulled away from him. you sat down on your bed and patted the spot next to you. he smiled dopily and sat next to you. as soon as he sat he feel backwards, laying on your bed and groaning slightly.

you let out a breathy laugh and shook your head, “you can’t even sit up.”

“you keep me stable.”

“i’m also the one enabling your edible addiction.”

“it doesn’t matter that you’re enabling me ‘cause you always take care of me.”

you laid down next to him and face him. he clumsily pulled the blanket over you both and let his hand rest of the side of your face.

“my pretty little bunny, i’ll make you believe me one day,” he promised. he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close.

you looked at his pretty face, his messy sandy blonde hair, his bloodshot eyes. you wished you could believe him. you wrapped your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. you could at least pretend.

he kissed your cheek and held you tightly, “nice and close bunny, i gotta protect you and make you feel loved.”

you melt into him and laugh softly, “protect me?”

“don’t know if that giraffe is comin’ for us.”

“well we can’t have that now can we.”

it was silent for a few moments.

“what do giraffe’s eat?”

“mostly leaves i think, why, love?”

“i don’t like being scared that you’ll be hurt, we should set a trap tomorrow.”

“for harold?”

“yes, you can bake something and i’ll construct a gaint moustrap for the slimy fucker.”

you tried desperately to keep your giggles to yourself, “that’s a job for the morning.”

“i know, you go to sleep, bunnies need lots of rest.”

“goodnight remmy.”

“goodnight bunny.” he kissed your cheek again, “love you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat once more, “love you too.”

you could pretend it was real.

#remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #dealer!remus x baker!reader #dealer!remus #baker!reader #remus lupin fluff #domestic remus lupin

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dogwithrabies · 2 years ago

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【★】 cws: none! sub!scara, gn reader but described as afab. slight dacryphilia igl

【☆】 the spacing looks kinda wonky augh, anyway! it's my first time actually writing something serious, so enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

Why does it have to be me?

You mentally curse Aether while taking another step forward. After all the adventures you two shared, he bailed out when Nahida asked him to accompany The Wanderer on his little solo mission. Not only that, but he also suggested your name, something along the lines of “(name) seems to be more fitting for this job than me”. They didn't even give you a notice. The news of your impromptu trip came at the last second, leaving you with only a few hours to prepare, both mentally and physically.

You’re momentarily dragged out of your thoughts as you feel your foot slip, quickly putting your hands forward and catching yourself. It takes you a second to compose yourself and keep on hiking, while your companion just looks at you with an expression of irritation and floats by you.

He insisted on taking a shortcut, cutting right through deep vegetation and saving up time. That is if you can fly. Now, he stands on top of the hill, looking down on you as you stagger to keep up.

Slowly sinking back into your thoughts, you wonder… maybe Aether saw right through your annoyed façade, scowling every time you were faced with Kunikuzushi. Sure, he was rude and sometimes unbearable- but he had such a pretty face. And pretty eyes. And soft lips.

His hair also looked so soft, you wonder how it would feel to run your hand through it, slowly combing it. Maybe even pulling and tugging on it- alas, thinking of him, your thoughts always sway in a different direction.

The wanderer folds his arms over his chest. “This place seems adequate for resting. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve already arrived at the destination. Fragile humans, always needing to rest after even a small effort.” Another not-so-subtle quip aimed at you. You stopped listening as soon as he started listing the other ways you “slowed him down”, focusing on setting up camp instead. You wished he could just shut up. Forever. But his voice sounds so heavenly, if only he wasn’t such a pain in the ass.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes fall on your back, following your movements.

He can’t help it, really.

He’s always found himself strangely attracted to you. His gaze follows your hands as they pull and tug while setting up the tent, silently wishing they could do the same to him. He still doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was relieved when he found out Nahida choose you to accompany him. Even during previous interactions he has always secretly hoped to have your attention on him, throwing insults at you, enjoying every single glare you throw at him.

The thought of liking someone, especially if that someone is you , irks him. He has never needed anyone. Getting close to people (to humans, no less), is just asking to get betrayed again. He has seen it over and over again, relationships falling apart over the stupidest reasons, cheating and lies and whatnot. The aftermath is even more pathetic, fake sympathy when both parties are on “good terms” or the sadness of a heartbreak.

Despite finding himself starting over, leaving his life as The Balladeer behind, old habits die hard.

So he finds himself in an internal conflict between wanting you and hating you. The latter more often.

The sound of the tent opening grabs his attention- “are you coming inside or not?” you say, your head poking outside while holding the zipper down. Sighing, he takes off his hat and sits down next to you, crossed legs and staring off in the distance. He hates how soft your voice sounds when you’re not busy arguing with him. Soft breaths and defeated sighs as you pull the blanket over you both, covering his legs.

Once again, he finds his gaze falling on you, your back is facing him and your chest is heaving up and down as you breathe. He has half a mind to reach out and touch your hair, but he holds back, you’re still awake. Maybe he could wait until you fall asleep to silently satiate his wish, but the fear of getting caught is stronger. So he sinks under the blankets and settles for simply watching you sleep.

The Wanderer stirs awake, breathing softly as his eyes try to focus.

No light filters through the tent, assuming it’s still nighttime, he lays his head back on the pillow, but when trying to roll on his back, he feels his arm catch on something. That’s when he takes notice of the warm sensation of your body against his. And his arm on your waist, holding you tightly. A bit too tightly, you slightly stir in your sleep and can feel you press against him while your back arches.

He feels himself stiffening, a warm sensation down there, taking notice of how his shorts feel too tight and the tent too small. He removes his arm from your hips and tries to pull the other one from under your back, but to his utter dismay you turn, now facing him, luckily still sleeping.

Not so luckily, your arm is draped on his chest and your leg rests in between his, dangerously close to his semi-hard cock.

Sighing in defeat, his free arm on his forehead covering his eyes, he tries to fall asleep once again.

He doesn’t really need to sleep, physically speaking he does not get tired. During his fatui days, he was used to spending weeks awake on missions. It’s more for his sanity, the calm of the night allows him to organize his thoughts while resting his body. And Nahida would nag him to no end if she found out he was, once again, not sleeping in order to finish his work for her faster.

Trying not to focus on how tightly you’re holding him (or how close your leg is to where he wants you the most) holding him hostage against you, he tries distracting himself, hoping his erection dies down with his will to fight your grip.

Being the first one to wake up, quickly taking conscience of your current position, you panic slightly. You’ve never been this close to him, not that he would let you, he had such an aversion for touch, always keeping his distance.

But right now, his visage is relaxed, his usual scowl nowhere in sight, he looks beautiful.

Slowly moving your arm you reach out for his hair, slowly tucking some loose strands behind his ear, just to get a better look at his face. His eyes are closed, with that red eyeliner of his perfectly contouring his eye shape. Your eyes fall lower, his lips, rosy pink and so inviting. Sitting up and removing yourself completely from him, pulling the blanket off yourself, you turn once again.

But you’re not granted the chance to admire him more, his eyes slowly flutter awake, locking on you.

“Morning,” you murmur, voice still a bit raspy.

He doesn’t spare you a single glance, as he sits up, putting his outer layers and hat on and exiting the tent.

Oh wow, his bad attitude starts in the morning? Deciding to pay him no mind, you quickly collect your belongings and put the tent away.

“Do I not deserve a “good morning?” he hears you say sarcastically.

But he’s not listening. His mind is busy replaying the events from last night, and now, your gentle hand as you moved his hair out of his face. He’s thankful he can stand impossibly still, but he wishes he could have seen your face in that moment. What was your expression? Were you looking at him with adoration or simple curiosity toward his mechanical body? So many questions in his mind, he doesn’t even hear your steps as you stand next to him.

“Are you ignoring me?” - he huffs, interrupting you “Do you ever stop talking? It’s early morning and I don’t feel like entertaining your useless chatter.”

Just what’s the deal with him now? He starts walking away from you quickly. It takes a minute to catch up, knowing he’s going to be extra bothersome today.

This time, you are walking on a clear path, one that is actually shown on the map (unlike his shortcut), but that does not mean it’s any safer. On the contrary, the road is full of fungi, which you had to take care of- courtesy of Kunikuzushi, who apparently prefers watching you struggle instead of helping.

Today was going to be a long day.

Hearing the cool drizzling of a nearby river, you both decide to stop for a quick break.

Dropping your bag under a tree you make your way to the riverside, cooling your hands in the water, then splashing some on your face, a relieving break from the heat.

As the splashing stops, you can see the reflection of Kunikuzushi staring back at you.

Quietly whispering “hi” to try and break the tension gets you no answer from him. So you sit in silence for a few minutes before you rise on your feet, facing him, your faces a bit too close for comfort. He was standing awfully close to you, almost banging your head on the edge of his hat, he still doesn’t say a word.

“what’s deal with you today?” your tone sounding a bit irritated. You could put up with the banter, that was the norm between you two, silence just sounds wrong.

He turns on his feet, trying to put distance between you, but you quickly grab his hand stopping him from leaving. Now he’s angry, “let me go.” he spat, trying to remove himself from your grip.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“I said let me go!” He uses his other hand to try and free himself, sometimes you forget he’s not human, but his strong grip instantly reminds you. You’re sure that’s gonna leave a mark.

He yanks your arm with an unexpected amount of strength and you lose your balance, toppling forward into his chest, taking the both of you for a fall on the ground.

Flinching as you land on top of him, you look up at him and now he looks pissed. His hands hitch towards you, but you’re faster, pinning them at his sides.

“Get. Off. Me.” he growls.

“Just answer me first,” huffing and still holding his arms down. You’re sitting in between his legs, looking at him from above, his hair disheveled and his cheeks such a cute shade of red. He could free himself from your grip at any moment, but for some reason, he’s choosing to put up a false scenario of struggling to move your arms. He stills when he notices how intensely your eyes are boring through him, he feels himself shrinking under you.

“where did all the bark in you go? giving up already?” you taunt. you just had to ruin the moment. Slowly closing the gap between your bodies, you stare at him more intently, and he swears he saw your eyes flickering between his and his lips. You remove one hand from his arm and repeat the same motion as this morning, moving his hair out of his eyes and sliding them behind his ears.

He’s so beautiful even when he’s angry, you conclude.

But by his reaction, you guess you said that out loud too. He uses his, now free, arm to grab you by the collar of your shirt and drag you closer to his face, your chests now pressed together. He slams your faces together in an attempt to kiss you, it’s messy and it’s inexperienced, teeth clanking together and all. It’s cute.

Pulling away almost instantly you glare at him, “Is this why you’ve been so pissy all morning? You just wanted a kiss?” shifting from the current position to straddling his hips.

“No, that’s not it.” you say as you feel something poking your thigh, his face a darker shade of red, “you want more.”

He moves his hips, trying to get away from the pressure but accidentally ends up brushing his hard-on further on your thigh. “That’s not true.” he winces at his own tone, it sounded winded and not as angry as he wanted.

“Liar.” your hand slides down the side of his face, now gripping his chin forcing him to keep eye contact. “At least your body is honest.” you taunt with newfound confidence. “But if that’s what you reaaally want-” “No!” he interrupts you, stopping your movements before you could even begin lifting yourself off him. “No? so you do want me.”

He looks away again, too ashamed to keep eye contact with you. “Who would’ve known, this bratty personality of yours was just you being a whore all this time.” “N-no, I’m not…!” whatever fight he had left in him disappeared as you slowly grind your hips on his erection.

You lean forward “Just say it. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Need I remind you… y-you’re the one grinding on me like a whore?” he tries to regain some decency.

“How cute. ” you cut in before he can get another word in and reconnect your lips together, gentler this time. He instantly melts into it, his hand sneaking in your hair to push your faces together even further. He whimpers in the kiss when he feels you pressing harder on his dick. Oh, he was so cute to play with, you couldn’t wait to ruin him.

Moving your hand from his face, you drag your nails on his chest, making him gasp, taking advantage of that to shove your tongue in his mouth. He licks the inside of your mouth with a tinge of desperation, his fingers pushing your head harder. Biting his lips, you break away from the kiss, panting, and a trail of saliva connecting your mouths.

“Swallow.” you say, holding his mouth open as a glob of saliva rolls off your tongue and into his.

He winces slightly but does as you say. “Good boy,” and he prays you don’t feel him twitching in his pants at the nickname. But you do, and meet his gaze with a knowing smirk.

He feels your weight pulling off from him, a look of panic in his eyes thinking you were going to leave him there, but suddenly he feels himself getting dragged up and onto your lap.

Now above you, he feels a bit of control, but that’s short-lived, the moment he feels your lips on his neck he turns into putty in your hands. Biting and licking, leaving marks that he can’t cover. Your hands slide slower, on his sides and pulling on his bow until it comes undone. You give one harsh bite and he moans, his face now nuzzled between your neck and shoulder, trying to mask his noises. Cute.

With the bow now off, you have more access to his sides, dragging your hands on his skin-tight body suit. Your touch sends shivers down his sides, the body suit doing little to nothing to numb your touch, it’s like he’s not wearing anything.

Interrupting the assault on his neck, you look in between your bodies, at his shorts. There’s a little wet spot forming at the tip, and you can see it twitching. “Can I?” you ask, pulling him from his hair to make him look at you in the eyes. He nods quickly and fails to cover the moan that escapes him as you cup his bulge. He is uncharacteristically warm all over, but especially down there.

Tugging at the sides of his shorts, he gets the memo and lifts himself up, just enough for you to slide them mid-tight. As you pull his body suit to the side, freeing his erection, he is suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, still outside, just a few meters away from the main path.

But that thought quickly gets pushed to the back of his mind as he feels your hands on him. He shivers, your gentle fingers go over his slit, gathering pre cum and sliding it all over his shaft.

His arms drape around your neck as he hides his face on you again, slowly and not so subtly taking in your smell. He is so sensitive , feeling every movement of your soft hand as you slowly jerk him off.

“F-fuck, move faster,” he speaks, muffled and hushed near your ear.

“What’s the magic word?” you continue, agonizingly slow.

Really? You’re pulling this on him now?

“...Please?” he says, even more hushed now.

Satisfied for now, you speed up your movements, alternating between sliding your tight fist over his shaft to rubbing his tip. You hear him moaning and whimpering, all muffled by your shoulder. That simply won’t do.

Your hand comes off him, pushing his back to the ground. He looks at you confused, already missing your touch on him. But then you pull his shorts completely off, spreading his legs enough for you to shimmer in between them. Pushing himself up, he looks down at you. You grab his hands and slowly move them to your head.

Grabbing his legs and dragging him closer to you, you leave a trail of kisses along his tight, stopping to leave a few bites and sucking to leave a mark before moving on to the other one. Everywhere your mouth goes it's followed by a series of dark bruises and bite marks.

He shudders as you place one kiss on his tip, before licking the precum that’s leaking out. The grip on your head tightens as your tongue darts out giving small kitten licks.

Fed up by the teasing, he pushes you forward, managing to sink in half his length before you gag. You try to push back, but his grip holds you in place. You stare at him, angry eyes meeting his. Looking down at you, he smirks before pushing your head further, your nose touching his pelvis, effectively burying himself to the hilt.

His chest heaving heavily, your warm mouth engulfs him fully, and before he’s prepared he feels your mouth bobbing up and down his length, tongue swirling and licking a prominent vein on his cock.

“F-fuck, that’s good…” he moans, unable to muffle it as both his hands are busy on your head.

His stomach churls, watching as you work hard to get him off. He jolts when he feels you pinch the inside of his thigh, twitching in your mouth as he feels his climax approaching.

“ ‘m close…” he musters out in between moans, his grip tightening on your hair. His hips move forward, slowly at first, but he speeds up, now actively fucking your throat.

He doesn’t even notice you stopped moving your head, letting him use your mouth however he pleases.

“I’m gonna-... hah! F-fuck I’m gonna cum”, his moans are now just a series of hushed “ah’s” making your heart flutter. He’s so cute when he’s desperate.

You have half a mind to edge him and make him fight for his release, but you want to see him cum. You want to see how his face crunches in pleasure. You want to be the reason he finds himself breathless.

He thrusts in you one last time before releasing, thighs clenching around your head. Warm spurts of cum shoot down your throat as you struggle to swallow it all. He holds your head in place, no intent of letting go until he feels his body go limp.

He falls with his back laying on the ground with a soft thud. Taking your mouth off his softening cock you climb on top of his body, Kissing him, he grimaces at the bitter taste of his own release. Your hands still roaming his body, one pinching his nipples through the body suit while the other reaches down in between his legs.

“ hah… mh! wait, I just finished-” he whimpers while closing his legs on your hand.

“Who said I was done with you? I haven’t gotten my fill yet.” you free your hand, getting up and rucking your pants down, and you take off your underwear too.

Kunikuzushi’s eyes immediately fall down, staring at your leaking cunt. He wants it in his mouth. He wants to be inside you, he feels his cock twitch as it starts to harden once again.

You straddle his hips, this time, sitting on his dick, slowly grinding your core on it. His hands grab your waist, dragging you closer to himself, his face looks so soft, his lips so biteable. You kiss him once again, caressing one side of his face. His fingers dig into your hips with need, you can feel him now fully hard against your thigh.

He lets out a small gasp as you grab him in your palm, aligning him with your hole.

“w-wait…” he gets cut off as you slowly sink on him. His head falls back as he lets out a guttural moan, you feel heavenly. Your insides are warm and your walls flutter around him, sending shivers down his spine.

His face is crunched up, not in pain… he just looks like he’s concentrating really hard, with fingers still gripping your sides, he looks at you with lidded eyes.

Locking eyes with him, your hips move forward. It’s the smallest movement, but it sends his head spinning in pleasure, biting his lips and trying to hold back his moans. It’s when you start bouncing on him with a rhythm that he totally loses control. Moaning with no shame, his hands now have a messy grip on whatever they can hold of you.

He looks like a mess, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his eyes are unfocused and there’s a bit of drool on the side of his mouth. Your hand slowly moves to his neck, you’re aware he doesn’t need to breathe, but squeezing his throat gets a reaction out of him anyway.

“That’s right… only I can make you feel like this,” he moans, interrupting you. “Only I can make you feel this good. Got that?”, he nods, his eyes closed shut.

Leaning down to leave more marks on his neck, you hear him whimpering right in your ears. It only spurs you on, riding him faster while he squirms and writes under you.

He doesn’t speak this time, but you can tell he’s already close. You are too, his cute little noises only fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

Biting on his neck, he gasps, back arching off the ground while he holds you tighter than ever. You look at how his expression changes, eyes closed with tears prickling at the sides, and then you feel him twitch and a warm sensation flood your insides. It takes him a moment, his arms slide down your sides while he catches his breath. But the moment is short-lived, you start riding him again, his eyes shoot open as he grabs you trying to stop you.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him, shoving two fingers in it. “Suck.” It’s an order, he swirls his tongue around them while sucking. He’s still so sensitive, having just finished. “mhhfm! I- ah- I can’t-” he tries speaking, but you shush him shoving your fingers in deeper making him gag.

Now tears are actively streaming down his face. God, he looks so ruined. Marks all over his neck and thighs, his body suit can partially cover some of them but the rest will be visible. He will be walking around Sumeru and everyone will know that he is yours. Only you can see him like this, only you can fuck him till he cries.

You slam harder on his cock, feeling his come from his previous orgasm leak down his shaft and onto his thighs. The noises coming from the both of you are obscene. Anyone passing by could hear you, the thought makes you clench on him. Feeling your orgasm approaching, you take your fingers out of his mouth and trap him in a kiss.

Your walls tighten around him, and moaning in his mouth you reach your climax.

Still breathing heavily, you grab his face turning it towards you, tears are still sliding down his face. You place a kiss on the corner of his eye, licking one tear away.

“You… made me swallow your spit,” he says between pants, after a minute of silence. His mind is no longer foggy, he cringes at how high his voice got when he was moaning just a few minutes ago.

“And you enjoyed it,” you say while pushing yourself up, you let his limp cock slip out of you. Leaving his lap to reach for your clothes, you can feel him boring holes in your back.

Does he want to say something…? You offer him a hand to pull him up, which he silently grabs. Pulling his shorts up and helping him redress, he looks at you with rosy cheeks and a slight pout. There are so many thoughts swirling in his head. What was it you said about him being yours…? Did you mean it? It irritated him how you seemed to move on so quickly after fucking his literal brains out.

“You know,” you begin talking, “you are much more submissive than I thought-”

“Fuck off! It’s all your fault. You make me feel all weird all the time.” he snaps back.

“Oh? Don’t tell me I'm giving you butterflies-” he slaps his hand on your mouth, “shut it.”

“and quit licking my hand it’s not gonna make me let go.”

He hears you mumble something and removes his hand. “Okay, okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. But just so you know, I don’t do one night stands, you’re stuck with me now” You grab his face and drag it closer to you, and when he doesn’t fight back you bring your lips together once again. This one is soft, no longer spurred on by lust and need. When you break the kiss he looks at you with something akin to adoration in his eyes.

“you’re so cute. cute. cute. cute.” you repeat while peppering his whole face with kisses. He groans but lets you do as you please, a defeated look in his eyes as he hears you giggle while kissing him one final time on the lips.

While you keep nuzzling his neck, he looks up at the sky taking notice of how the sun has begun setting, sighing. He guesses Nahida will just have to wait more for her mission to get completed. But at least he has you now to keep him company.

Nahida would be happy to know he’s finally making connections with humans.

#scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #dog writes

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readyforthegarden · 2 months ago

Text

When the Nightingale Sings - Part One

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 3424

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, angst, anxiety, fight or flight emotions.

A/N: It's here!! I am insanely proud of this story and all the work I've done on it. It wouldn't be anything like it is without the help of some good friends. A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way! And @joshsindigostreak for always hearing me out when I text her saying 'i have an idea 👀' and always playing dialogue off with me. Love you both so much!

You had always disliked riding in carriages, the juddering and shaking motions of them as they traveled down worn paths between villages, towns and cities always making you feel ill. Today was no exception. You were currently on day three of a two week trip across the country, and a soft rain had fallen in the early morning, ensuring muddy tracks and sinking holes along your path. You rested your head against the wall next to your seat, closing your eyes and wishing sleep would take you. Perhaps death would even be better than the pounding in your head.

“I imagine you’ll have much finer carriages after you marry the prince, my lady.” your handmaid smiled, trying to ease your discomfort. “I hear he has one that’s lined with fur.” What a comfort that would be on such a cold journey. The foot warmer between your feet had already begun to grow cold, the embers refusing to be stoked with life again in the late fall air.

“That would be something to see, Marta.” the handmaid’s eyes glittered at your response. She was young, only a few years younger than yourself, and the niece of the maid that had helped take care of you most of your childhood. Though there should have been a stronger boundary between lady and servant, you had found a form of friendship in her, though it was stiff and formal.

“And imagine all the beautiful gowns and jewels, I cannot wait to help you dress for royal banquets.” Marta slipped into a diatribe about how the balls your family had held would pale in comparison to the ones the royal family had, how glittering you would look in the crown jewels. The unease in your stomach grew. Your parents had worked out a strenuous match between you and the sovereign prince of Farrynden. It was an effort you had no part in, nor wanted. Unfortunately, you had no say in the matter, and after exchanging a few letters back and forth, you were summoned to travel across the country and marry the prince.

It was just you, Marta, and two coachmen making the journey. Your family was well-off for the most part, but could not afford for all to travel to the nuptials. Their presence would not have been a comfort anyway. Your father was too proud of the match he had secured for you, and your mother was far too happy to lose you and gain a title in court. You wished for your older brother, though he had been long gone at this point, to try and talk sense into father. He might have listened to protests coming from him.

The carriage jostled roughly, making you place a hand over your mouth and groan, preparing for the back wheels to follow suit, however, the carriage was stopped. Sharing a confused look with Marta, you glanced out the window. You were surrounded by woods, the path cutting through a dense, large forest. The confusion set in further until you heard the horses whining, the coachmen shouting. Moving back from the glass you glanced at Marta, who met your wide eyes with her own.

The door was ripped open by the same large, grimy hands now reaching into the carriage. Your shriek matched Marta’s, both of you pushing away from that side of the carriage as much as you could. You cursed the large foot warmer, it’s bulk making it difficult to move. Marta’s wrist was taken by one of the hands, it pulled her harshly, yanking her screaming figure from the carriage. Another set of hands entered the carriage, grasping at the hem of your dress, your ankles. Kicking you tried to fight them off, but only succeeded in the assailant grasping your ankle and tugging you closer before grabbing your arms.

You fought against the hands that held you steady, twisting and turning your body, stomping your feet in the mud. Marta’s screams were flooding your ears, and as you looked around for help, you could see why.

The two coachmen were dead, blood pooling around their bodies. One was lying face up, his throat slit, blood still pouring from the wound. The other was face down in, a dark stain on his light blue coat, the blood mixing with mud beneath him.

Tears began to run down your face, the inevitability of your own death coming to light. You thrashed further as the man holding you gripped tighter, bringing you towards the front of the carriage.

“Oi, make that one shut up!” the man’s voice was hard and gruff, sending fear shooting down your spine. He spoke to his accomplice, a younger, greasy looking man, his teeth dark as he grinned.

Marta’s screams were silenced as your own sobs echoed out into the forest around you, unable to look away from the blade that dragged across her throat. You saw the light fade from her terrified eyes, the image burning itself into your memory. You would be next. Oh god, you would be next.

With everything you had in you, you braced yourself as the man holding you turned you in his grasp.

“What a pretty little thing you are.” he smirked, his breath blowing across your face, pungent and sickening. “Maybe we should keep you, have some fun.”

“Lookie here,” the younger man caught both of your attention. One of your trunks was opened, and with his soiled blade he lifted up a nightdress. “She could be our little dolly, dress her up and strip her down.” Bile rose in your throat, and the next thing you knew, you had wrenched your head back, and brought it forward, cracking it against your captor.

The man dropped you, startled from the impact and you slipped in the mud as you realized your chance to escape. Gathering up your skirts as shooting pain rippled through your skull, you bolted, dashing for the forest. You could hear both the men behind you, shouting and giving chase as you hastened through the dead leaves and twigs on the ground.

Your lungs were burning with every breath you could take. You cursed the corset you’d been laced up in, knowing you could run faster without its hindrance. Not daring to check behind you, you kept going, not caring if you could hear them or not. Stumbling, you cursed, getting back up, though your legs were screaming at you. Cold tears whipped down your cheeks and from your eyes, the image of the coachmen and Marta flashing every time you thought about stopping.

Time had escaped you. You knew that at some point you felt a soft flurry of early snow, but didn’t know how long you’d been running. The forest was thicker here, and you began to slow down. It was quiet now, and you glanced around. There was no sign or sound of the men following you any longer. You still kept a quick pace, checking for them behind every tree and branch. Watching over your shoulder, you pressed forward, stumbling but continuing to go.

“Stop! Stop!!” you froze, whipping your head around to see a tall man standing a few yards from you, his hands thrust out in front of him, palms up. He didn’t look like the men that had chased you, he was clean, his dark, curly hair shining in the sun that broke through the trees. Fear still shot through your veins and you started to run, but he yelled again. “Stop! If you move you’ll step in a trap!” freezing again, you looked down. Right in your path, hidden under a few scattered leaves, was a metal contraption, meant for hunting large beasts and animals. You would have stepped right into it, maiming whichever foot landed in it.

The man moved towards you, and you moved back. He took in your pale face, the only color your cheeks and nose tinged pink from cold and tears that were sliding down your cheeks. Your wide, scared eyes regarding him like a monster as he regarded you like a feral creature, scared and confused.

With a breath, you bolted, darting off to your right before he could come closer. You would take your chances with any other traps, refusing to be held captive again.

You had lost the sun, the trees looming overhead blocking out any of the sunset. You were staggering around, a painful stitch in your side mixing with hunger pangs. The headache you’d had earlier reappeared, and you slumped against a tree. The cold was creeping in, your sweat coated body chilling faster.

The bark of the tree scratched against your coat, small bits flaking off and catching on the wool. Surely death by cold and hunger was a better fate than what had been in store for you, whether earlier or with the prince.

The shaking shivers that wracked your body wouldn’t cease as the sky grew darker. Nestling into the tree trunk as best you could, you let your eyes fall closed dreaming of the warm fire in your old bedchambers, and the cozy bed one a few feet away from it.

The sound of twigs snapping jolted you from sleep. Your eyes looked around, but instead of a dark forest, you were in a small, homely cottage. The sound of twigs was not that exactly, it was larger pieces of chopped wood, crackling in the hearth. And instead of a tree trunk, you were nestled into a large, warm bed. Furs were laid over you, their warmth making you feel slightly delirious.

Sitting up, you inspected yourself, raising the blankets. Your dress, though dirty, was still intact. The only thing removed had been your shoes, though long, thick wool socks had been put on you in their wake. Glancing around the interior, you saw few items in the small space. A stack of firewood next to the fireplace, a small kettle hanging over the fire. Two wooden chairs and a small table, seemingly handmade from the rough edges of the items. A rack with various pelts draped over it was in the corner, drying.

Finding you were alone in the cottage, you peeled back the furs on top of you, placing your feet on the wooden floors, you moved to get up from the bed, just as the door opened. A large figure lumbered in, the door slamming shut behind them. They were cloaked in a large coat and hat, both made of dark fur. Scrambling back into the bed, you pulled the blankets over you, clutching them to your chest. Your heart rate spiked as the figure turned toward you, his eyes regarding you anxiously.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You backed up, further in the bed when he stepped forward, pausing as he took in your move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He watched as your hand shook, clutching the blanket, your eyes darting up and down his tall stature. Sighing softly, he reached up, his movement slow, and took off his hat, allowing his curls to bounce back to life. It was the young man from the forest earlier, that had stopped you from stepping in one of his traps. He put it on the small table, then unfastened his coat, lowering it from his shoulders and draping it over the back of his chair. Glancing at you, he put his hands on his hips.

“My name is Daniel, by the way.” he paused, waiting for you to reply. When you didn’t, he glanced around the cottage. “This is my home. I found you in the woods while checking my traps. You were turning blue, so I brought you here. Have you been hurt?” This pause was met with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. “Good. Can you tell me why you were running in the woods like that?” Silence. Daniel sighed, watching your eyes cast down to the floor.

Turning, Daniel moved away from you and to the fire, grabbing a small bowl from the mantle, and opening the lid on the kettle, stirring the stew inside with a ladle that had been hanging from a hook by the hearth. The smell of cooked meat and herbs met your nose, and your stomach growled loudly. Daniel chuckled under his breath and ladled some into the bowl, his own stomach softly rumbling as the aromas wafted up to him. Grabbing one of his few spoons from an old tin on the mantle he walked back over to you.

He held out the bowl to you, raising his eyebrows, idly twirling the spoon between his fingers on his other hand. You looked from the bowl to him a few times, before shifting on the bed, letting the blankets go and reaching for it. Daniel pulled back slightly, making you gasp softly in surprise.

“I’d rather not have rabbit stew spilled in my bed,” he explained. “Come sit at the table.” you hesitated, but Daniel moved back, setting the bowl down on the small table by the fire, and plopping the spoon gently in. He sat down on the other side, and waited.

Feeling a spectacle, you slowly climbed from out of the covers, your feet on the hardwood floor again. The socks slid against the smooth wood as you stood, and you brushed down your skirts. Every step you took toward the table, and the man sitting there, was timid. You were afraid that he would pounce at any moment, finish the job of the other two bastards before him.

Yet he sat still, his eyes wary but kind as you gripped the back of the chair, pulling it out somewhat before taking a seat. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as you tucked in closer to the table. Eyeing the stew, you spied chunks of lean rabbit, potato and carrot, a beetroot or two also mixed in. Your mouth watered, but what if he did something to it? What if this was all a trick?

Seemingly reading your mind, Daniel shook his head.

“Go on, eat. I wouldn’t poison my own stew.” he rolled his eyes, but the gentle smile was still present. Still, you hesitated. Daniel moved, his chair scraping the wooden floor, making you jump in your seat. You braced yourself, ready to endure another headache if you had to headbutt your way to freedom again.

Daniel only moved to the fire, taking another bowl from the mantle and ladling himself a serving, grabbing a spoon and sitting back down. He kept his eyes on you, dipping the spoon into the stew and bringing up a steaming spoonful. Blowing gently on it, he raised the spoon to his lips before taking the bite. He did this a few more times, you were sure the food was still too hot, evident by the wince he did on the last before he spoke. “See?”

Your hand raised from your lap, grabbing the rustic spoon. It had been worn over the years, no polishing, showing slight grooves where fingers had held it. Yours fit snugly into those grooves, and you stirred the stew a bit, releasing more steam before taking a bite of your own.

It was delicious. You had to hold yourself back from slurping and sloshing down the meal as your tongue was coated with savory warm broth. The meat was soft but a little stringy, but it was a fine supper. Daniel continued his own meal, the two of you eating in silence until he spoke again, half-chewed bite in his mouth.

“Do you have a name?” glancing up, you nodded, and supplied it to him quietly. “Are you from around here?”

“Where is here?” you asked.

“I take that as a no, then.” he sighed. “Here is my home, in Timberhill. Where did you come from?”

“Indigwall.” you answered. Daniel let out a long, low whistle.

“You’re a long ways away from home,” he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you doing all the way out here? And running through my hunting grounds?”

“I-I,” you stammered, trying to think of a lie. Just because this man seemed kind, didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold you ransom for money, from your father or the prince. As you glanced up to his eyes, you realized how soft they were. Amber flecks hiding in splashes of green mixed brown sparkled in the firelight. You could see no malice in his eyes, and suddenly the truth spilled from your lips. “I am betrothed to the prince of Ferryden. I was traveling to the castle for our wedding.” Daniel stared at you, mouth slightly agape as you continued. “This morning, our carriage was stopped, and these two men-“ you choked on a sob as the images of Marta and the coachmen flashed again in your mind. “They killed them, they killed Marta!” Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Daniel stood, going to a small hutch and rifling through it before coming back with a handkerchief. You accepted it, dabbing your eyes and wiping the tears away.

“I am sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I understand why you were so afraid of me earlier. You do not need to speak of it, if you do not wish.” nodding you tried to compose yourself as he sat down across from you again. The silence fell between the two of you again, but this time there were fewer questions, fewer anxieties weighing on it.

Picking up your spoon, your hand trembling after the images, you continued your meal, swallowing down the stew, your appetite still fighting your nerves.

“I thought from your coat and dress, you must have been a lady of some sort.” Danny cleared his throat. “I have a few things I must do before I can take off, but in a day or so, we can start the journey to the next village, see if we can send word to your prince.”

You knew better than to protest. If your own parents didn’t listen to your pleas not to be shipped off, not to marry the prince, a stranger wouldn’t either.

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” you gave him the best smile you could muster, feeling it barely raise the corners of your lips. “But I don’t have money to pay you. All of my things were in that carriage and with…them.” Daniel didn’t need you to elaborate on whether your belongings were stolen by the murdering bandits or left behind with the bodies laid across the path.

“No need for formalities.” Daniel instead chose to break the ice further. “You can call me Danny. My friends call me that.” he had hoped the more casual nickname would help ease the tension of formality.

“Danny, then.” Nodding, you sat back in your chair, a little easier now that your belly was full and you knew the name of the man across from you. “How far are we from the next village?”

“That depends on the method of travel.” he answered. “Tomorrow after I check my traps, I’ll see about finding your carriage, and if the horses are still there, we can ride those and it would only be a few days. Without them, we’ll be on foot, and that could take about a week.” as he finished his sentence, a large yawn stretched your face. “Go on back to bed. You need to rest after all the running you did.”

“No, I can’t take your bed again,” you shook your head.

“I insist.” Danny got up, walking over to an old, worn cloth that was strung in the corner of the large room. With a jump, he climbed up into it, swinging precariously with a smile. “See? I don’t mind sleeping here.”

Rising from your seat, you moved to the bed, and took one of the furs from it. Folding it over your arms you walked over to him, smiling as you raised it up. One of his large hands reached down, grasping the soft material and pulled it into his hammock as he returned your smile.

“Thank you Daniel-Danny,” you corrected. He merely nodded at you, fluffing out the blanket over his long body, settling in. As you crawled back into the bed, you pulled the blankets back over you, finding its warmth and your full belly already lulling you into sleep.

“Goodnight, princess,”

“I am not yet a princess,” you mumbled, slightly offended by the unwanted title.

“Goodnight, all the same.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 8 days ago

Note

Thank you for answering the question!

So, the idea I have for the request with the Trio + Greta is this:

You know how when Edouard was killed and his body was used to be turned into a night creature, and even though he was a night creature, still saved Annette?

How would the Trio + Greta react to going through that scenario like what happened between Annette and Edouard? As in, them taking the place of Annette while their friend taking the place of Edouard.

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to answer this, it's been months. Oh my god, time flies! Can someone please make it stop?! But back to the topic at hand, I have to say I went into Nocturne all hyped for Maria (and while I still love her so much, she’s best girl!), I also fell in love with Edouard’s character. He’s so sweet and sensitive, and I appreciate how he encouraged the others to be open and vulnerable to acknowledge/process their grief. I recall a tumblr post that was like these Nocturne characters’ are facing the same problems as their predecessors, but at least this time, their emotional IQs have gone way up! So *fingers crossed*, here’s hoping the main cast won’t get as traumatized this time around. (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s Castlevania. Of course, they’re all gonna end up traumatized.)

Oh, and I wrote this in the third person as opposed to a first-person Reader-Insert, I hope that’s okay!

TW: Brief Mentions of Violence; Death; Heavy Angst (Reader Beware!)

The Trio + Greta React to Their GN! Friend Getting Turned Into a Night Creature:

Trevor:

In the heat of battle, he barely has time to register, much less process, his friend’s death.

By the time the fight is over and he’s realized what’s happened, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of his chest, and he’s already begun to blame himself, regardless of whether or not it was his fault.

He’s a Belmont, he should've known better. Simply by associating with them, he was practically digging his friends’ grave. He shouldn’t have let them come along, he should've scared them away. Fuck! Why didn’t he push them away like he did everyone else? Out of all of the people to stay and get put in danger, why did it have to be the one person he cared so much about?

So in his guilt and grief, Trevor does what he does best: drink. He drinks to excess the first night without his friend at his side. And as well as the second. And then the third.

If he’s with Sypha and Alucard (and/or Greta in Village Belmont at the time of his friend’s death, this is the point where they'd step in and cut off his booze.) If Trevor’s alone, however, you can bet he spends a good week or so drunk as a skunk, and completely out of his mind.

When the alcohol doesn’t numb the pain anymore, he tries to jump ahead to acceptance, telling himself that it was unavoidable, that his curse will always rob him of his happiness, of his friends and family in the end. Of course, like some sick twisted turn of fate, just as he accepts it was out of his hands, a familiar face re-enters his life.

When Trevor first encounters his friend as a night creature, he doesn’t recognize that it’s them straight away. He’s a monster hunter and he attacks on autopilot— monsters’ appearances be damned. And when he does finally recognize that this night creature has been forged from the body of his deceased friend, he assumes, like all the other forged creatures he’s fought before, that it’s merely his friend’s corpse being used as a vessel for a damned soul.

Then Trevor loses his footing as well as his weapon. But when his former friend turned night creature has a chance to deal Trevor a scathing blow, they hesitate, and instead choose to stare Trevor down rather than attack him. It’s at this moment, that Trevor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, that this isn’t a night creature in the body of his friend, but that this night creature is his friend.

He thinks he’s going to be sick, but before that happens a separate night creature aims to attack. Trevor quickly crawls to retrieve his whip only to turn around to see that he doesn’t need it: his night creature friend turns on its fellow beasts and rips them apart limb by limb.

The two of them sit in the deafening silence that follows, each one eyeing the other up, waiting for someone to finally break the spell of concentration and make their move.

Trevor’s friend moves first, speaking in a rough, deep voice: “Tre..v..or,” it manages to get out.

As much as it pains him, as much as he knows his next move will haunt him for the rest of his natural life, Trevor blinks away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and charges ever so quickly towards the creature. His former friend turned monster has no time to react to what’s happening by the time Trevor’s knife is piercing through their chest.

“I’m sorry…” Trevor rasps out, guilt beginning to consume him once again. “‘S all my fault.”

Trevor is the last Belmont alive. Belmonts were trained to find and kill monsters. At least, that’s what Trevor keeps telling himself as he looks down at the corpse of his friend for the second time.

Belmonts hunt monsters, and they protect people.

And yet, standing there, Trevor feels that’s never been more of a lie.

Sypha:

Sypha tries like hell to save her friend, she really does. She creates defensive ice shields, rings of fire, hell even an ice cube around her friend all in an attempt to keep them safe from harm during battle.

But no matter what she tries, no matter how incredible she is at multitasking: it’s not enough. Something happens, something else gets her attention, someone else’s immediate safety takes precedence. Just for one moment, she turns her back on her friend, assuming they’d be alright for that long.

When Sypha returns to find her friend dying or dead, she lets out the most guttural scream, as icicles and fireballs rain down from the sky above her effectively squashing any remaining enemies. In her grief, her power surges through her, unstoppable like a nuclear reaction. She doesn’t just strike her enemies dead, she obliterates what remains of their corpses until they are nothing but ash and smoke.

Sypha, being from a large nomadic family, takes it upon herself to track down her friends' surviving relatives (if they have any) and bring their remains back to them. Being the kind of curious person Sypha is, she’s likely to know a fair amount about her friends' culture and religion. If there are specific burial rites she knows her friend would have liked observed, she wants them adhered to and she refuses to leave her friend's corpse until they’ve been officially put to rest.

But on her journey back (either to her friend’s family or the cemetery outside of Village Belmont), she’s attacked on the road by rogue vampires. Luckily, she and her companions make it out unscathed. Unfortunately, however, it seems those monsters have taken her friends' corpses with them.

Sypha mourns for a second time, not only the loss of her friend’s life but the loss of any closure she might have been hoping to create. Despite them no longer living, she feels as if she’s somehow managed to let them down a second time.

The next time she’s defending a crowd of folks against hordes of night creatures, Sypha is extra cautious, her friend’s death still fresh on her mind. And as the cruel mistress fate would have it, the image of her friend becomes real in front of her. Only this time, they’ve changed. They’ve mutated into something beastly with scales, claws, and horns, leaving only their face— eyes, nose, and mouth— and voice unchanged.

Initially, Sypha refuses to listen to this fraudulent night creature’s words, deeming their entire resemblance nothing more than a devilish trick. But when their former friend-turned-night-creature suddenly turns on its fellow beasts, tearing them apart before they can attack Sypha or her friends, Sypha is forced to confront the possibility that this creature still has her friend's soul trapped inside.

Sypha keeps up her defensive magic and ushers everyone else away. She makes it so it’s just her and her former friend left standing out on the battlefield.

Keeping a flame in one hand, Sypha raises the other in greeting, her large eyes widening as the creature mirrors her movements.

Sypha’s torn. On one hand, if her friend’s soul is still in there, they could be trapped and suffering, waiting for the release of either death or salvation to set them free, much like how her soul was trapped when she lost to the Cyclops. On the other hand, if her friend is still in there somewhere, maybe it’s only their form that’s changed, and their personality has not. Is it possible for a night creature to exist and not be violent?

It’s one hell of a risk to take, however. And Sypha knows she can’t risk the fate of Village Belmont, of all those orphan children, hell, of her children, because of a guilty conscience.

“Leave,” she says, advancing towards her former friend. “Do not return!” She sends a blast of fire in their general direction, herding them away.

“Go!” She screams, sending even greater flames.

The night creature frowns, backing up, confused. They cock their head to the side as if to ask why Sypha’s doing this. The confusion lasts only a moment before a hardened expression comes over them. They slowly nod before dragging their monstrous body far beyond the tree line, far away from Village Belmont.

Through her teary blurred vision, Sypha watches her former friend-turned-monster leave, a look of sorrow on both their faces.

Sypha makes a mental note to research ways of freeing her friend from their curse, should she come across them again. In the meantime, she hopes for their safety and asks that God (as much as he hates her) take mercy on her companion.

Sypha feels their current existence is punishment enough.

Alucard:

Alucard is not there when his friend is killed, a fact that haunts him long after their demise. He was not present for his Mother’s death either, and due to the manner of her murder, he was left without a body to mourn. Alucard knows fate is a cruel mistress, but to repeat such a grief with his dear friend, it’s almost too much to bear.

Still, Alucard’s not one to actively wallow, so he sulks for a short period before returning to his many duties as protector and curator of his father’s castle and the Belmont hold. He plays with the children, he and Greta teach the willing adults how to fight, and he even takes to cleaning up his old nursery to welcome Trevor’s and Sypha's incoming child.

On all outside fronts, Alucard appears the same as he was, but on the inside, his chest aches, and his stomach weighs heavily in his gut. Internally, he’s full of ‘what-ifs’:

Perhaps, if he taught his friend more defensive techniques before the battle. Or if he had only encouraged them to run rather than fight, they might still be here within these cold castle walls. Sure, he and the others may have ended up teasing his friend for being cowardly, and Alucard’s certain that would embarrass them, but my god— what’d Alucard give for his friend to be alive and embarrassed rather than dead.

After some time, Alucard finds his mind less and less occupied by his sorrow over his friend’s demise, and instead, begins to fill the space with fond memories. He recalls their first meeting, their first fight together, and their first night wandering the ruins of the Belmont hold.

Their ill-fated reunion starts with an alert from one of the watchtowers, then a second yell from a guard, before Alucard finds himself running, magical blade drawn, into a horde of beastly night creatures.

Aluccard’s on them before they can set upon the other guards. He makes quick work of two with his longsword and wounds a third with his claws. None of the night creatures' attacks are surprising, with every move they make, either Alucard or another fighter such as Greta can slice them down where they stand.

All appears to be well in hand when a rough voice calls for help just beyond the tree line. Wasting no time, Alucard proceeds alone, instructing the others to hang back in the instance it’s a trap.

To Alucard’s credit, it is a trap. Just not the one he was expecting.

A night creature, more on the smaller side, emerges from the shadows on all fours. On its side a large wound gushes red, the mark appearing to be from another creature as opposed to a human blade.

But that is not what catches Alucard’s attention. Rather, it is the voice of the night creature that sounds so similar.

With rising horror, frozen in place Alucard watches as the twisted, tortured body of his former friend pulls itself closer and closer. The creature pleads with Alucard by name, begging for their friend to make the pain stop.

It is not the first time Alucard has seen such magic. When the rebis reanimated in his childhood bedroom, he could see the souls of his parents struggling to house themselves within the rebis’ one body. It was such a horrifying sight, Alucard had to close his eyes and look away, but here, with his former friend’s clawed hand gripping his shin, no such possibility exists.

Alucard knows what he must do, he knows it’s only fair to end his friend’s life, to prevent them from suffering any further torment. Then why can’t he do it?

Alucard raises his blade using magic, preparing to slice his friend’s head off cleanly, when the creature lets out a final gurgle before falling still.

The blade continues to hover in the air as Alucard falls to his knees weeping. Somehow every time he believes to be past this pain, even more befalls him.

Alucard allows himself to grieve, hoping this time is the last.

Greta:

Greta’s no stranger to loss. She’s lost several men and villagers to the night creature attacks long before Alucard came into the picture. Being the Village Head, she’s found she’s left with little time to grieve, but perhaps, that is for the better.

Once Village Belmont is established, and Alucard is reunited with his friends, Greta allows herself to mourn the loss of her villagers, showing their remains respect by burying them in the Village Belmont cemetery. Of course, not every one of her lost friends has a body to bury.

In one of the night creature’s original attacks, they had taken the corpses of their victims as well as some folks still alive, presumably to eat or devour later.

One of Greta’s dear friends was among them, and while she wishes more than anything she could have held their hand and comforted them as they bled out, as she did a handful of others, there’s no going back to change the past— what’s done is done.

Greta takes a vote, and the villagers agree to put up a Gravemarker anyway, just as a way of honoring their memory.

It happens just as she exits the castle to give the good news of the arrival of Sypha and Trevor’s new baby. The many houses around Castlevania are lit up with merriment when a handful of stray monsters decide to attack.

Greta takes the lead on the defense, holding her own until she finds herself accidentally backed into a corner one night by a creature that almost looks like an overgrown dog. She’s surprised she let herself be so foolish but she’s even more surprised by the beast’s refusal to strike.

Confused, Greta analyzes the creature further, gasping in shock when she recognizes the pair of eyes that stare back at her. It couldn’t be. Could it? And if it is, what does this mean?

Greta thinks back to when she first met Alucard. Granted, she and her people knew he was not human, but his reputation as a savior preceded him. Perhaps, she considers, it is possible then, for a night creature to also go against its primal nature and choose the same.

She manages to push the creature back, calling for other armed members to surround it until Alucard can come and get a better look. Greta asks the dhampir what he thinks, if it’s possible this is her friend transformed, or if she’s letting sentiment get the better of her.

Alucard admits that he’s read of certain necromancers and forge masters possessing the ability to maintain pre-existing souls when forging newly twisted monsters, however, this particular experience would be a first. It could very well be Greta’s friend, their soul in this body, but it could also just be their corpse.

They decide to consult Trevor.

The three of them discuss back and forth as to what to do with this miniature night creature so long Sypha herself comes out, demanding to know why the hell she just left her newborn with a midwife to come get Trevor’s disappearing ass who said he’d be right back before walking out after the birth of their firstborn son?!

Everyone ends up at a loss.

Unphased by all the arguing, the night creature has since started to playfully catch sticks and stones, which some braver children have thrown at them.

Sypha agrees to leash the night creature within a magic circle until they can figure out what to do with it. At this point, the night creature curls up into a ball of scales and fur and promptly falls asleep.

“Well,” Greta says, “I suppose we didn’t need that Gravemarker after all.”

A/N: Sorry for the sort of cop-out ending with Greta’s, I just couldn't bring myself to end hers on a sad note as well, so instead, she gets a night creature guard dog bff to accompany her around Village Belmont! Also, if I had to pick a Castlevania character to be surprisingly chill about their friend becoming a reanimated creature, it’d be her. (Well, Hector first and then Greta but you see my point.)

As always, if you enjoyed this, please Like & REBLOG!

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#trevor belmont x reader #sypha belnades x reader #alucard x reader #alucard castevania #greta castlevania #greta x reader #castlevania #hc #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard tepes #greta danesti

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alittlextrathatway · 11 months ago

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Honestly any lyric from Universe can fit brettsey but I think I’ll go with “You make me believe in something bigger than just me”

You can choose the location! Please tag me when you’re done! I think this is so cool!

And back to canon we go with this one lol.

Let's see what location shall I pick?

How about...

on the street.

***

He leaves again tomorrow, but not forever this time.

He'll be back and forth for the next few months as Ben finishes school and makes the transition to college. After that, he'll be back in Chicago full time to build the life with Sylvie he's been dreaming about for years.

Tonight, they're headed to Molly's to announce their engagement and say his goodbyes. But before they head in, he has more he's been wanting to say to Sylvie.

He tugs on her hand and squeezes her fingers. As she turns to look at him he nods toward the small alley next to the bar. She follows him with a concerned expression on her far too beautiful face. He takes in every inch of it, from the wrinkle between her eye brows to the downturned corners of her mouth.

He presses her against the wall, caging her in with his hands on her hips and then smiles at her, hoping to soothe her concern.

"Before we go in there and I have to share you for the rest of the night," he begins, pressing a swift kiss to her lips. "I wanted to talk a bit."

The tension melts out of her body and she leans her weight against the wall, bringing her hands and arms up to rest on his shoulders. "Well, you know I love it when you decide to use your words. It usually works out pretty well for us," she teases.

He chuckles and sends her a mock glare. "Noted."

"What topic did you have in mind this time?" She asks, smiling brighter despite his narrowed eyes.

"I know long distance isn't what either of us wants," he says, diving right in. If he's learned anything form almost losing Sylvie it's that it's better to be up front than dance around the big issues. "So, before we jump back into that for the next few months I just want to make sure you know that it's going to be different this time. I'm going to be different. I want to make more intentional choices about how I spend my time, especially my time with you."

"Matt..."

He can tell she's about to let him off the hook for all the times he cancelled on her and didn't return her willingness to travel for the sake of their relationship so he cuts her off. "Don't say I don't need to, Sylvie, we both know that's not true."

She rolls her lips and sighs but nods, conceding his point. "Okay."

"I let our relationship slip on my priorities list and, yes, the boys are important but they shouldn't be more important than you. You and them, and now Julia too, should all be on equal footing. Until I'm back here with you permanently I'm going to make sure that's the case. Losing you again isn't an option."

"You won't," Sylvie promises. "This time if I start to feel like we're fading away then I'll tell you. I won't hold it in and try to deal with it on my own. You weren't the only problem, Matt. I failed us too. But we made it though it, we're here together now, and that's what's important. And this time, everything seems to be leading to us ending up closer together -- not further apart."

"Our stars are aligning you mean?" He asks, an affectionate grin tugging at his lips.

She sighs again, this time she sounds relieved and content, as if she's finally comfortable. Finally, in his arms again like she was always meant to be. "Yes, our stars are finally lining up."

"I never really believed in that kind of thing before you," he admits.

"What kind of thing?"

"Meant to be, fate, kismet. Whatever you wanna call it. The big picture or grand design. I just thought we search out our people and we commit to being good to them. You make the best of where you are and the people you're with. And that's it."

"And I changed your mind?" Sylvie asks.

He rests his forehead against hers while he nods. His eyes mist over as they always do when he stops to think about the gravity of his feelings for Sylvie Brett. "You changed everything. The way you love me and the boys, the way you just knew Julia was made to be yours, the timing of all of it with Ben going off to college. You're the one that brings the pieces together for me. You help me see the design amidst all the chaos. If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," she agrees, tightening her hold on him and pulling him closer. "To me anyway."

Of course it does because she understands him in a way no one else every has before. "I love you."

"I love you too."

And now he gets to spend the rest of his life reminding her of that as often as possible.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #write4life13 #matt casey x sylvie brett #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

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silverhandj · 8 months ago

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SilverV,

I think I wrote about this on my old blog but this dynamic is heavily reliant on the fact that one cannot exist without the other and both are entitled to have their own hold on life with their dreams and desires. It gets crowded when one has a biological claim to the body it's lived a life in, and that line gets crossed when another is unable to stop its claim to taking over their body. There is never no choice for V, it's an illusion Johnny makes to comfort V the very same way Robert Linder was comforted in the trenches with Johnny.

Would you die for me?

I love this scene because it's so vulnerable and romantic, it's very much giving hope to a hopeless situation. I've just always hated how easy it is to think that Johnny is saving them out of love. This question is always one way, Johnny will always choose his life over V's, no matter the context. This is his only personal flaw that's his to choose, his own agenda that isn't influenced at all by V.

Which leads me to not vibe with the SilverV dynamic sometimes because it's never a relationship based on equal footing, one person has to be something for the other the same way the other has to be him.

The way each other copes with this is by handling business, being the hero, compartmentalizing all this shit with extreme situations which put each other's life to the test.

Just would also like to note that this dynamic was shared between Rogue and Johnny before Rogue cut him off cold and smartened up. V doesn't have that luxury, and frankly, Johnny doesn't either.

Personal autonomy is important for Johnny, back when he was actually alive and its something he's programmed to feel and to know he has something that's all his? He's a greedy, selfish man with something to prove to you, to Night City. He's the raving nutjob on the side of the road yelling about Arasaka took his choom from him when he's the one who actually forced him out and give him something to live for.

There's always a revenge story, there's always a bomb to blow, there's always a redemption arc. He wants you to die for him.

The memories you're forced to re-live as Johnny as V are all constructed by Johnny. He only ever wants V to remember the good parts about him, the cool parts he's actively lived. There's something very inherently lonely about Johnny which makes him want to live life with V, a way in which he enjoys the chaos you two make in Night City because it's exactly the same shit he did when he was alive.

There's love there for sure because V is forced to stomach all of Johnny Silverhand's ugly, the way that he's actively killing him just for keeping him alive the same way he's keeping you alive by fighting with you instead of against you. He's never had that kind of active support for that long, everyone at some point or the other has left him or have actually died for him.

Which puts his feelings and emotions into perspective. Which is why he can push aside anyone who isn't V and sit at their table with a heavy heart and an even heavier hand when he finally gets that there doesn't have to be a revenge story, there doesn't have to be a bomb, there can't even be a you and him existing on the same plane because you're both cut from the same cloth trying to fucking win something, and he'd be damned if he wasn't honest with you at the end of the line.

So if you're here to tell me something, it's cause you need to hear it yourself.

Johnny can't bear to say I love you to a body gone cold of you when you give it up in don't fear the reaper, which is why he leaves Night City.

Johnny can't bear to forgive you or himself when you ask Arasaka for help, because you gave up on yourself which means you must've given up on him at some point.

Johnny understands your decision to lean into the NUSA for help with saving your life, but he needs you to let go, he needs to know that no matter how much time you've spent together as each other, you're still gonna be the better person. This ending is special, because this ending is a permanent one for Johnny instead of the others and he's at peace with it. Because no one's dying for him, he's asking you to stay alive for him.

And that's the point, no matter how high the affinity meter is, he actually does love V but it's complicated because he can never actually be there the way he would if he were alive. Which makes him wonder, would this have happened at all if they both were still alive as two different people?

I leave u with David Bowie based songs that fit bc Mike Pondsmith based Johnny Silverhand off of and i'm a nerd and need there to be a a soundtrack for every stupid ship I brainrot over

That's the thing, there's a string of hope forced upon them both, and even if there's no happy endings for people like them maybe it's enough to love and be loved in the end.

#vihrago wanted silverv rot so here i am #it's easy to write about SilverV from V's perspective but no one really considers Johnny's perspective on it #bc he's literally eating away at them #anyways this applys to ALL the silverV dynamics #obviously it's gonna be different for everyone #like how he can't stomach having to be someone for V to look up to because it makes him Uncomfy #which is why I generalized this dynamic

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chronicroderick · 5 days ago

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Forever Winter

Hannibal's mind is a dark place. There are some doors even he can't keep shut, and he's grown far too weary to keep trying.

Hurt/Angst, NO Fluff, Suicid3, Self-H@rm NO Happy Ending, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Tw: s3lfh@rm and suicid3

(I'm going through something you guys so read at your own risk. No one wrote any Hannibal stuff that was sad enough for my mood so you're welcome)

***

Hannibal wasn't going to kill himself. That would be idiotic, but god, did it feel like he wanted it. He flipped through story after story, endlessly searching for something short to read that held as much angst as he held in this moment. Anything to colour the walls of his mind as vibrant and red as the inside of his stomach felt. It was a deep, nauseous feeling. Hannibal wanted to throw up and screaming and rip out his hair as much as he wanted to curl into a ball under the deepening snow never to return. He would decay there, becoming one with the worms, the mushrooms, the moss, however it was too cold for any of those things, so he would likely just be mummified. Maybe that would not be so bad. It must be nice to be cool all the way to the core. It is that warmth near the centre that makes us so afraid of the ice.

The straight razor did not magically appear in his hand as it surely would have been described in some languid novel. Those long legs of his had carried him every heavy step across the room. Her bare toes had sunk into the carpet. Each finger now curling around the hilt of the tool was certain. Strong. Even as the rest of the limb trembled.

Just a cut. Just a deep, long, gushing cut.

When he could see the blood pouring out, then he would feel better. When he could feel the droplets wrapping around his wrist then there might be some silence. Then he would not feel as if he was rotting. It was a played out cliche though. There was already a meandering length of deep scar tissue on his wrist from the other times. As he lay in his bed they itched. Setting the razor down he sighed, rolled onto his stomach, and drifted off to sleep, if you could call it that. It was more of a lurch between bouts of wakefulness.

With a slow start he woke and squinted into the glaring face of his alarm clock. It was three in the morning. There was no darkness outside, the city lights would not allow it. Neither would the snow. It created a haunting glow, a fake daylight that seemed to torment him in a way that no one else would understand. Hadn’t that been his blight lately? What would be the use in opening up about something that would seem for all his follies, like a torture chamber of his own making?

They would sympathise and pander. They would urge him to seek professional help. They would ask what happened to Dr. DuMauier, why had he relinquished her if he was not certain that things were going to be okay?

Because how could he know? When your life is an endless walk into a dreary night you are most happy when all you have is sure footing. “At least the ground is soft now. At least the climb has lessened in steepness.” Those are as close as things get to happiness. Hannibal, with all the mental capabilities he possesses, finds himself forever at the threshold of death.

So it is here he finds himself, in front of the full length mirror of his bedroom, leaning against the foot of his bed, straight razor in hand once again. It is quite beautiful. They’ll think him vain for choosing it. Intricate handle, a small bee crafted into the side, furling leaves travelling up until they meet the hinge. The neck of the blade tapered, until it goes out into a fat rectangle, where the true blade begins. Sharp enough to shave without effort, though that was never this tool's job. It had always been to slice flesh. Set in the nightstand drawer, never too far out of reach, not necessarily in plain sight. It was always there. Waiting. Afterall, it served it’s purpose. Dr. Lecter could not go about his life with an infected wound. Though the sting of something so sharp was not quite as satisfying in the moment as it always was in his memory, the ache of an alcohol wipe of the severed flesh was superb every time.

So this time he sat. Sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and fuck he wanted to break things. A ghost of himself rose, ripped the mirror off the back of the door, and ripped the blankets off his bed. It knocked every bottle of cologne, every figurine, every watch off the dresser in one fell swoop. The ghost tore the paintings off the wall, punched holes in the door, ripped the drawers out of the nightstand and tore his suit jackets off their hangers, before it slumped against the wall. Tired and alone. A trembling thing, eyes big. Scared. Hopeless.

The ghost lingered in the corner as Hannibal came back to himself. It faded into nothing. Into dust and shapes and colours.

There was only the blade. There were only his eyes in the mirror. Golden. His pupils black holes, turning him inside out. The universe is observing itself. Realising its own emptiness. There was no denying this was Hannibal trying to give himself a back door one last time. Truly, a hanging would be more thorough. Kick the chair far enough away and no one can save you, not even yourself. Slit your wrists? Perhaps you’ll be able to jam your tendon slashed fingers down on the buttons hard enough to dial 9-1-1. The thought made him chuckle.

Hannibal held the knife over his right wrist and drew down into it in one hard, slow line. It didn’t bleed for half a second, as if the veins were surprised by the exposure. After their initial shock they came running. He was not yet done with the cut, travelling quite a ways across the forearm. He could actually hear the skin tear. He could hear the difference it made this time, the difference between his skin and his muscle. It was almost sickening. His blood felt cold. It ran in rivets as it welled out. So strange. It hurt, hurt badly. He couldn’t move his fingers anymore and his first thought was he’d done it.

He’d done it!

It poured and it poured. Hannibal lapped at the blood, as he had done so many times before when that blade had dug into his arm, but not like this. No, never like this. A viper turned in his stomach as the copper taste coated his tongue. There was so much more than usual. It was always a taste here. A few licks there. Some cuts that could be passed off as accidents but not this time.

Opening his eyes, letting the moment of ecstasy wash away, the world tilted. It made him sway, his eyes trying to focus as his head seemed to spin. Hannibal’s eyes dragged up the form of his own reflection in the mirror, which seemed to blur around the edges. Those slim legs, knees poking against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. The way a bit of his love handle peeked out from the scrunched up tank top he was clad in. It gave a nice shape to his shoulders, let a bit of chest hair peek out from the scoop of the neck, and yet it was stained with a blossoming flower of dark red. As were his pajama bottoms. What a terrible outfit to be found in. At least then they could not say he was faking, nor was he vain. Ha! He let the razor clatter to the floor before laying back onto the silk sheets. They felt so warm, so soft, he could hear Misha laughing, he could feel the tickle of Will's dogs' all around him, his mother held him against her. He didn't worry so much about being alone.

There would be no note. It was a little depressing. No note. He was such an eloquent writer and yet there would be nothing said at the very end. Maybe the ending said enough.

#hurt/angst #hannibal lecter #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #doctor lecter #hannibal angst #hannibal hurt #hannibal lecter angst #blood #chronicroderick #bedelia du maurier #tiny little teacup #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal one shot

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highreevess · 2 years ago

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Vibrations

Warnings: Dom!Rafe Cameron, sub!reader, use of sex toys, unprotected sex, degradation kink.

Summary: When Rafe Cameron passes by the reader's room at Tanneyhill, he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks. And when he takes a peek into the room, he sees something that makes all logic go out of the window, and the only thing on his mind is how the reader looks on the bed with her legs spread. A dark fantasy plays around in his mind, and he doesn't have the strength to not play it out.

Word count: 2,605

"Oh, God," I breathe as I press the wand vibrator harder against my sensitive clit.

I squirm in my bed as the vibrations from the vibrator get me closer and closer to orgasm with each passing second.

As I close my eyes and just feel the vibrator against my clit, my back arches off of the bed. "Oh fuck."

I've only used this vibrator once before because I only received it in the mail yesterday, but God, this feels amazing.

I can't explain how it feels; all I can say is that when I angle it just the right way, my back arches off of the bed, and my muscles tighten in pleasure.

I snake my hand up my waist and up my shirt until I find my left breast. I begin to roll my nipple between my thumb and forefinger and whimper at the feeling. I adjust the way I'm holding the vibrator and press it harder against my clit.

That's all it takes for the coil in my lower stomach to snap. I cum with a loud moan that I don't try to smother because nobody is home. My body shakes with pleasure as my orgasm hits me like a truck, and my grip on my breast tightens.

When my orgasm ends, I quickly lift the vibrator off of my clit because the vibrations are way too intense to keep it on just after cumming. I move the hand that is on my breast and place it over my heart as I intake deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

After a minute, my breathing slows, and my eyes flutter open.

I gasp when I see Rafe Cameron in my doorway, his arms crossed over his clothed chest.

I quickly shove the wand vibrator under the covers and close my legs. I grab the duvet and yank it over me as if that would erase Rafe's mind of what I know he just saw.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" I snarl, my cheeks reddening to the color of tomatoes in embarrassment. "You're supposed to be out with Sarah, Wheezie, and Mr. C." Sarah directly told me that Mr. Cameron was taking her and Wheezie back to school shopping on the mainland. Rafe was supposed to go with them.

He raises a brow, the corner of his lips tugging up. "This is my house."

"This isn't your room," I sneer, clutching the duvet in my hands like it's a lifeline.

"If you didn't want me here, you should have locked the door." He gestures to the lock on the doorknob. "You shouldn't have made such pretty noises."

"Fuck you," I snarl, the redness in my cheeks no doubt spreading to my neck.

His smirk widens. "I'd love to, but I think I want to see you cum on that vibrator again."

My eyes widen, and my mouth falls agape at his words.

I'm silent for a full fifteen seconds before the shock wears off. When it does, I scoff. "Get the fuck out, Rafe."

His eyes narrow, and his lip curls as if in thought. After a moment, he says, "nah. I think I'll stay and get what I want." He glances at the doorknob and places his hand on it. Then, he turns the lock.

I swallow. "Rafe, whatever you're about to do—"

"Won't be anything you won't enjoy," he says, cutting me off. He stalks forward, his strides long and calculated. When he gets within a foot of me, he glances at the white duvet that covers me. Then, he looks back up at me. "You can choose how this goes. Either you can remove the comforter yourself, or I can do it for you."

Something about the way he is looking at me—with black, hooded eyes, clouded with lust—makes my thighs clench.

Though I know this is wrong—he's Sarah's brother for fuck's sake—I can't help the way my stomach does summersaults at the dominance in his voice.

I had always been attracted to him. I mean, just look at him. But I never thought that he would end up in my room telling me he wanted to watch me make myself cum.

So, I don't make a move to do anything. I don't move to tell him to get out, but I also don't move to throw the comforter onto the floor.

And he notices this with a narrowing of his eyes. "Fine, I see you want to do this the hard way."

He leans down and yanks the duvet off of my body, leaving me in nothing but the t-shirt I wear.

His eyes go to my bare legs and then the vibrator next to them, which is still plugged into the wall behind my bed.

He leans forward and goes for my shirt, but I quickly grab my shirt with my own hands and give him a pleading look.

He meets my gaze and narrows his eyes. "Take it off."

I shake my head and tighten my grip on the shirt. "Please." I don't want to take it off.

His eyes narrow even more, and he glances down at the shirt before returning his gaze to me. "Fine. It can stay on. But that's it."

I nod my head and loosen my grip on the shirt I wear. I allow myself to relax a bit, and he notices.

He reaches over me and grabs the vibrator on my bed. He turns it on and places his unoccupied hand on the bulbous head, feeling the vibrations emitting from the vibrator for himself. His brows raise when his hand vibrates from the power of the toy, and the corner of his lips turns up. "I see why you were so loud now."

I flush and avert my gaze.

He slowly moves the vibrator until it touches my upper thigh. "Open up."

When I realize that he is talking about my legs, I swallow and slowly spread my legs a few inches.

His eyes narrow when I don't move to open them any wider than four inches. His jaw ticks and he grabs onto my right thigh with his large hand, his nails digging into the soft flesh. I whimper, and he just smirks.

He parts my thighs wide, giving him a full view of what's between my legs. His eyes drop to my pussy and darken when he gets a good look at it. "Fuck, how many times did you make yourself cum? You're dripping." He darts his hand out, swiping the slit of my pussy with his finger.

My hips involuntarily buck against his finger, and he smirks. "You like this already? I've barely touched you." The condescension in his voice makes me glare at him.

He doesn't even acknowledge my glare. He just readjusts his grip on the vibrator in his hand and slowly glides it to my inner thighs, just an inch away from where I need him.

I go to buck my hips so I can get the vibrator where I need it, but he stops me by giving me a hard look that could turn me into ash.

Slowly and torturously, he glides the vibrator up and down my inner thigh until I'm whining and glaring at him. "Damn it, Rafe," I snarl, and his eyes narrow. He removes the vibrator from my thigh altogether. "Is there something you need?"

Though I want to slap him for feigning ignorance, I don't. I know it will just piss him off. So instead, I say, "please, Rafe."

"Please what?"

I huff in frustration. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Yes.

I glare at him but do as he requests. "The vibrator. Put it where I need it, please."

His eyes narrow as if he wants me to be more specific, but he relents and moves the vibrator away from my inner thigh. He places it on my clit, and I gasp.

The vibrations are almost too intense, and I don't know if I want to back away from the vibrator or into it.

A long moan is forced out of my throat as Rafe pushes the vibrator harder on my clit, and I fall back into the mattress. "Oh, fuck."

I grab the sheets of my bed and ball them up in my fists as I get more and more sensitive with each passing second.

"It's too much," I tell Rafe, and he just chuckles. "You wanted this," he tells me, "so take it."

The sheer dominance in his voice makes me moan.

My head falls into the pillow below me as my muscles relax, and I allow my moans to fall freely as the vibrator Rafe holds against my clit gets me closer and closer to orgasm.

And when I feel that familiar tingly feeling in my stomach, I meet Rafe's gaze with wide eyes. I whisper his name, and he smirks at me. "Go on, Y/N. Let go."

I don't know why, but once those words leave his lips, my mouth parts in a loud cry, and I cum. I hear my nails rip the sheets as I ride out my orgasm, and my body begins to shake.

When I come off the orgasm-induced cloud, I let a content sigh escape my lips and meet Rafe's darkened gaze.

I see him with his belt unbuckled, and my eyebrows furrow. When did he unbuckle that?

He turns the vibrator off before getting closer to me, and before I get the chance to ask what he's about to do, he climbs on top of me and places his hand over my mouth. "I'm going to fuck you now."

My eyes widen, and I try to say something, but it comes out muffled and incoherent because of the hand he has over my mouth.

"And you're going to be a good girl for me and take it, right?" he asks as he reaches between the two of us, no doubt to pull down his pants and boxers.

He removes his hand from my mouth to let me speak, and I immediately say, "Rafe, we can't. It's too wrong—"

"What's wrong?" he asks, cutting me off. "I'll tell you what's wrong, Y/N. What's wrong is you walking around this house—my house—in those tight tops and those shorts that barely cover your ass. What's wrong is you wearing those bikinis that cover nothing when you go swimming in my pool. What's wrong is you teasing me by bending over in those short little sundresses like a slut and expecting me to just ignore the hot piece of ass living just across the fucking hall."

I feel something smooth and hard brush against my pussy, and my eyes widen even more.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to want to fuck your kid sister's best friend? Any idea what it's like to have to jerk off in the shower after seeing your younger sister's best friend all dolled up for dinner with my family because I can't fuck her instead?"

He begins to gently prod the head of his cock against my pussy. "No, of course, you don't. You never will. But you'll do this. You'll let me fuck this pretty little cunt because you know you owe me."

He begins to slowly push into me, and I moan at the sheer size of him. The girth is so much more than I've ever felt before.

When he hears the moan escape my throat, he chuckles and pushes in another three inches of his cock. "Fuck, you really are a slut. I'm not even halfway inside of you, and you're already moaning?"

"I'm not a slut," I snarl as I grab onto his biceps.

"No?" he asks, looking down at me. "Then why is your cunt gripping my cock so tightly? Why are you moaning for my cock when I'm not even fucking you yet?"

I glare at him and seal my lips shut so I don't accidentally moan again. If I do, it will only prove Rafe's point.

But my silence also seems to prove Rafe's point because he chuckles and bottoms out with a small groan. "If you weren't a slut, you wouldn't be letting me fuck your pretty cunt right now."

"I'm not," I snarl even though it's a complete lie.

"Then why aren't you fighting me?" he asks, pulling out of me only to pleasurably push back in. "Why aren't you saying no?"

He pulls out and slowly pushes in again before leaning down so that his mouth is close to my ear. "I'll tell you why," he breathes, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Because you're a whore who likes to get fucked." He reaches down to play with my clit. "Because you like having a cock inside of you."

A breathless chuckle passes his lips. "And guess what? I like to fuck whores, and I like having my cock inside of you." He pulls out and slams into me, causing my head to hit the headboard behind me. "We're a perfect fit."

He grabs my left leg and moves it so that it rests just above his hip. Then, he starts fucking me.

He fucks me at a fast pace, his thrusts hard and punishing, and I can't help but moan at the pure bliss he brings me.

My nails dig into the flesh of his arms as he fucks me, and he doesn't even care. He just fucks me hard and fast as he whispers filthy things into my ear.

"Oh, fuck," I whimper when he brings my leg up and places it on top of his shoulder. His cock hits that one spot inside of me that turns me into a whimpering mess.

I feel him remove one of my hands from his biceps, and I redirect my gaze so I can see why.

He places my hand on my stomach, and says, "you feel that? That's my cock in your stomach."

My pussy flutters at the filthy words coming out of his mouth, and I can't help but whimper.

He presses down my hand, and I gasp when I feel an intense feeling in my lower stomach. I meet his gaze with wide eyes, and he smirks. "This will help you cum," he simply says as he fucks me.

"Rafe, it's too much," I tell him. With him fucking me, playing with my clit, and pressing down on my lower stomach all at once, I feel like I'm going to explode.

"Good."

I dig my nails into his bicep in anger, hard enough to break the skin, and he just laughs. "Hurt me all you want. It just turns me on."

His next thrust is harder than all of the previous ones, and that singular thrust sends me into a cloud of pleasure. My body wracks with a shudder as I cum with a loud cry.

Rafe fucks me through my orgasm, his thrusts hard and unwavering in their pace. Only when I come down from my orgasm does Rafe drop my leg back onto the bed and ask, "are you on the pill?"

I shake my head, my eyes widening at the thought of being pregnant by him, but, thankfully, he pulls out of me before he cums. He leans back on his knees and jerks his cock for a few seconds before tilting his head back in a low moan, releasing himself onto my thighs.

When he finishes emptying himself on the skin of my thighs, he looks down at me and slowly smirks. "Looks like you're mine now."

Taglist: @phildunphyisadilf @houseofperfecttaste

#rafe cameron x you #obx smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks imagine

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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years ago

Text

Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to.

Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face.

You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

Scum. All of them.

You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

“Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

“When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

“I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them.

Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

“Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled.

“There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

Like a moth to a flame.

“How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine.

A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line.

Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,”

Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here.

Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you.

The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business.

“Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup.

Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse.

Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose.

You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out.

Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you.

This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

“Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though.

You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features.

“You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

“Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

“Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

“I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

“I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short.

It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone.

You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop.

You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited.

You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped.

“You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it.

You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,”

“You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

“Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

“Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

“Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself.

“Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

“You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute.

“Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail.

He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness.

Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

“No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

“No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation.

You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

“No,”

“Yes,”

Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark.

“I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,”

You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

“What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Couldn’t,”

A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

“Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

“I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

“Yes,”

“Then what?”

“I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

“Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It doesn’t,”

“Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee.

“Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

“I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

“I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

“I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

“Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

“Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

Then his lips crashed against yours.

You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you.

“So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning.

You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

“Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily.

Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands.

The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him.

You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts.

His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

“I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

The light went off.

You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,”

Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,”

He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

“Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

“Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line.

Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

“Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God.

“Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

“Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area.

Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face.

A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

“Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

“That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

“But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t.

“Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears.

He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard.

He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold.

At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

“Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

“I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

“This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

“Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

“Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself.

So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

“There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

“Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time.

You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body.

“Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy.

He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him.

He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

“What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core.

“What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

“Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

“Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

“Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

“What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

“’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

“Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

“Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?”

He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

“Then cum,”

He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him.

You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word.

And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

“Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

“Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course.

After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

“I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after.

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myheadisemptyffonly · 2 years ago

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Barty Crouch Jr. was always an overly curious child, unable to leave a question unanswered and smart enough to make those answers if adults didn't give them to him. And it is precisely this infinite curiosity that leads him to leave his bedroom on his first night in the castle, when he realizes that the bed next to his is empty.

He had woken up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, to find one of his two roommates missing and, in view of the lack of light in the bathroom, he made the decision to go out to find him. Not that he was particularly worried about this housemate of his, he hadn't even properly introduced himself to him, but still he couldn't help but feel that start of curiosity creeping down his skin and so, with careful steps, he had made his way to the common room.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but certainly the sight of Regulus Black softly crying at the foot of one of the sofas with his arms wrapped around his knees was far from it. As if in a trance, almost as if a thread was pulling him in that direction, he took the few steps left to reach Regulus and stood awkwardly in front of him.

"Are you okay?"

A small shudder ran through the shorter boy, cutting off his sobs and forcing him to lift his face from his knees. "I'm f-fine"

"Sure, and you're crying for nothing then" he shot him a skeptical look and crossed his arms "Come on, why don't you tell me why you're crying?"

The answer was not immediate, the little Black boy looked suspiciously at Barty, but in the end, perhaps because of exhaustion, perhaps because of his sadness, can't help but start to cry harder again and start talking.

"My brother hates me. Siri doesn't want to have anything to do with me, he doesn't love me anymore and he doesn't want to be my brother anymore" the little sobs were shrill in the empty common room, bouncing on the walls and imprinting on the air. Barty let the little Slytherin cry for a few minutes, quite uncomfortable at not knowing what to say and racking his brain for a solution; he himself had no siblings or cousins so he didn't feel experienced enough to deal with this, he had been a lonely child for so long, but right now he desperately wished he could remedy this situation.

"If he's not going to be your brother, then I will be." More confident than he felt, Barty sat down next to Regulus on the rug and placed one hand on top of the other's.

"W-what? I, we don't even know each other. How can you say that?"

"Isn't it like that with all brothers? They aren't born knowing each other, they learn to love each other along the way. Maybe we don't know us now but we will, from now on I'm your brother" and so a pact passed between them, Barty with serious eyes and steady hands, and Regulus with a shocked look and sparkling eyes.

They stayed in the common room all night, holding hands firmly as they shared little parts of themselves, letting their emotions flow. They were barely 11 years old and knew almost nothing about life, but it still felt like a moment of growth, a lesson that would always be with them, about how family can be who we choose.

Sometimes you love someone just by seeing them once, and it's terrifying, like fate is screaming at you "Here, right here is where you belong." For Barty Crouch Jr, the first time he saw Regulus Black crying, he felt like an epiphany, a destined moment coming into his life, it was understanding that here was a person he knew nothing about, but somehow it was already his.

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leschanceux · 1 year ago

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philip feels dad's memory in the spaces between them too, remembers being lifted up from where he'd been tickling henry on the rug in the cottage's lounge, being tickled until he'd been howling with laughter as dad had told henry to run, hen! save yourself! as pip had squirmed and wriggled and begged for mercy from dad's tickling fingers.

he notes the dip in mood; the tension thickens for a moment and pip sighs to himself. somehow, he always manages to ruin a moment by sticking his foot in it. "i just meant-" no, he meant exactly what he said, actually. he has to do a lot of things he doesn't like to, including various appearances and ribbon cuttings he'd rather skip in favour of other activities.

but henry doesn't need to hear about that right now.

it's almost painful how hopeful henry looks. it brings back all kinds of memories, like when his entire family had dropped pip back at eton for his second year, and instead of just racing off to his room with his friends, pip had turned back and taken henry's hand to tug him along too. or every time pip had stopped doing whatever he was doing at home when henry had asked him to play. or each and every time pip had surprised henry at school on a weekend. there are so many times pip can draw comparisons to, each of them as precious as the next.

( yes, he'd forgotten about results day, but he had his reasons. )

"all right, well... we shouldn't be out as long as that. give them my best regards when you see them." he's never felt more grateful for percy and his fathers - at least someone had been prepared for today, had made plans to celebrate with henry ( and it if hurts his heart that it wasn't him, he'll have to deal with that later ). impulse takes over for a second and he drops a kiss right on the top of henry's hair - which is so much less fluffy than it used to be - when his little brother shifts onto his knees in the doorway.

"shoes," he says after blinking quickly for a second, bending to grab his own from where he'd discarded them earlier, "then we can go." he thinks he's doing alright, thinks he's just about gotten his shit together as he focuses on tying his shoelaces, when henry asks where would you like to go? like philip has any rght to choose?

"it's your day, hen. where would you like to go?"

for a moment the air around them is so familiar . socked feet and laughter . roughhousing in a way they could only get away with in the cottage and under dad's supervision . dad. that was why the familiarity was tinged with something sad , and that was why henry wasn't surprised when the mood dropped and the hint of a lecture on responsibilities appeared on the horizon .

for a moment he wanted to scream . he wanted to yell about how he couldn't live like this for the rest of his life . existing in some armoured shell of himself that belonged in a museum exhibition rather than the real world . isolated and cut off and so entirely without power over his own person . without care or affection or anyone truly on his side .

but then, for once , his brother took him by surprise .

in an instant henry went from sinking back into the shell of himself to hopeful . maybe this would mark the end of the last few months of tension , a hill that they had made their way over , a page turned and a new one begun . he felt like he used to when pip asked him to play a game with him when they were little , the handful of times that his big brother had turned away from his group of friends to play with henry even for a little while . truthfully philip didn't even need the suggestion that it was to celebrate his a-level results and university place . henry would jump at the chance regardless.

( he had been so alone since dad died . . . and he knew pip had forgotten about results day )

henry was already nodding before his brother offered him an out . twisting around so he was sitting more on his knees rather than sprawled out on his back in the doorway of the drawing room . " percy's dads are doing dinner later but i have no plans until then . " please , every inch of him is screaming . practically vibrating with the attempt to not act like a little kid at christmas . ( he doesn't want to give him any reason to change his mind )

and in an instant he's forgiven every harsh look and ignored phone call he's gotten in the last few months . pip was busy , he had the raf to answer to , and gran , and he was sad too , and he was here now . ( the self-preserving , desperate for family , side of him would not let him , for a moment , risk ruining this ) " where would you like to go ? "

#fatedtruths #THREAD; ( PHILIP )#WITH; ( HENRY )#VERSE; ( PRE CANON )

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missmonsters2 · 3 years ago

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That Way

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs & Comments are much welcomed ♥

Masterlist

Summary: But as you look at how Natasha shifts from foot to foot, a twinkle in her eye, you can't help but think—friends don't look at friends that way.

Warnings: A N G S T

Notes: WHEWwww I was out to hurt feelings today. If I see any biphobic comments in my notes, I will block you 💕

Count: ~1.2k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You stand in the back, unnoticed by everyone, as you lean against the wall and stare at Natasha.

She looks beautiful tonight. Well, she always looked beautiful, but you could tell that she had put extra effort into her appearance tonight. Natasha had taken hours to find the perfect dress and heels. She took hours curling her hair into loose curls and keeping them in place. You had watched her do her makeup delicately, choosing red lipstick because it made everything about her pop out.

Your eyes had scanned the room briefly. It was rather crowded as all of Tony's get-togethers are. You think it's kind of funny how easy it was for you to blend into the wall at the back.

You dressed up tonight, too, though you doubt anyone really noticed. Your hands rested behind you, crossed and trapped between the wall and your back. You had your knee bent as your foot rested at the angle against the wall.

You stare at Natasha, who's standing with Steve. People like them stand out, no matter how crowded the room is.

"Hey, loner."

You look over, startled to see Wanda slide up to you and join you by being a wallflower.

"Hey," you say softly, turning your head back. Wanda follows your gaze, quicker to catch at what you're staring at because it's not like you're being subtle.

She's speaking with Steve, and her hands are gripping the neck of her champagne glass tightly—a habit you know she does when she's nervous.

She's laughing at whatever Steve is saying, cheeks slightly pink. They look good together. The unabashed way you stare in their direction must make people think you're the other woman trying to come between them. If only they knew that the ring on your left hand had been a promise to you made by Natasha.

"Do you want to go grab a drink or dance?" Wanda asks because it just fucking kills her to see you standing here, staring at Natasha and breaking your own heart.

"No, it's okay," you answer softly, unable to rip your gaze away.

You should look away.

But it's like a sickness you can't stop. You can't stop staring at how Natasha's body is open to Steve, how he's leaning closer to her. Steve's hands are jammed deep into his pocket, a boyish shyness to him and a charming smile directed right at Natasha.

Things had changed since the two of them had been on the run together. You stayed because someone had to help them from the inside. Now you sorely regret not going on the run with them too. Would it have been different if you had?

Would you be the one standing with Natasha, flushed from flirting and the champagne as you stood a little too close?

It's hard to say since things have been different for so long now. You're suddenly hyperaware of how stupid you must be for hanging on as long as you have.

"C'mon," Wanda says as she grabs your arm to pull you towards them. You feel your stomach drop, anxiousness creeping up at the thought of approaching your own wife.

They don't seem to notice you and Wanda coming closer, and that feels worse.

"Hey, guys," Wanda butts in, her tone rather terse.

The two of them turn, almost surprised to be caught off-guard.

"Hey," Natasha says warmly as she smiles at you and kisses you on the cheek.

You want to feel happy for the gesture of affection, but you just feel empty. But you play the part of the loving wife with nothing wrong.

"Hi, babe," you smile lightly at her back before she turns back to Steve, and they jump back into whatever conversation they were in before you interrupted.

There should be some comfort in the fact that Natasha has her arm loosely around your waist, but there isn't. You stand there, lost. Listening half-heartedly to their conversation, you realize quickly it isn't anything you can contribute to.

You're just—there.

Your skin feels itchy. You feel like you're not even in your own body.

Look away. Look. Away.

You feel something clawing at your throat, desperate to say something. Desperate to make yourself noticed.

Before you can say anything, there's a sudden commotion. Some young business associate had drunk way too much as he started stumbling about. He bumped into a nearby waiter, sending the man toppling over, his tray of champagnes falling everywhere.

Your body tenses as its first reaction, and you suddenly feel splashes of cold liquid hit you all over. The moment is over quickly as you stand there with wide eyes.

There's champagne all over you. It's in your hair and drenched your front. You can faintly taste it on your lips, and you feel—sticky.

But none of that mattered.

None of that mattered because you see Wanda, Natasha, and Steve looking at you, shocked when you look up.

Your waist was cold, and it was cold because Natasha and Steve stood a little further away than they were before.

The realization of what happened makes you feel colder than the champagne you're drenched in.

Natasha had dropped her hand around your waist and had moved to push Steve out of the way.

Your wife's instinct was to save Steve.

That desperation in your throat morphed into rawness, and your eyes sting.

"Oh, god, honey," Natasha instantly started to say as she moved to you. "Are you okay? Let me—"

"I got it," Wanda cut in harshly, and you look over for the first time.

Part of Wanda's hand is wet, with droplets of champagne on her clothes and hair.

The second realization had you stifling a choked sob.

Wanda had tried to move you out of the way. Your wife's first thought wasn't you.

Natasha frowned. "No, I can—"

"You're a little busy, aren't you?" Wanda sniped, and Natasha is taken back by the tone. She frowned, opening her mouth to say something when you cut in.

"It's fine," you croaked, forcing your mouth to smile, even if your lips are trembling. "Wanda and I are the only ones who got it. We can go clean up. You should stay here."

Natasha seemed to stare at you, pensive, before she nodded, and it cracked your chest open a little more.

She used to never accept so easily.

Natasha turned to Wanda warily, who turned away and acted like she was grumpy from having champagne spilled on her.

You give Natasha one last reassuring smile that she returns before she turns back to Steve. He looked at you curiously, as if to ask if you were okay and you wanted to scream at him—scream and tell him to find his own woman.

But you let Wanda lead you away.

The commotion easily faded away, and people resume back like nothing happened—like your ribs hadn't been cracked open for everyone to see the final shatter of your heart.

You can't help but look back. See? It was a sickness.

Natasha had said multiple times that you had nothing to worry about, that she loved you. She told you Steve was just a friend.

But as you look at how Natasha shifts from foot to foot, a twinkle in her eye, you can't help but think—friends don't look at friends that way.

Part Two: Play the Part

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romaoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #avengers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #avengers imagine #wanda maximoff angst #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #romanogers #natasha x you #natasha romanoff fanfiction #SoundCloud #mm: my fics

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timid-orchid · 3 years ago

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Disastrous Wedding: Part 3/3

Summary: you have to attend your sister’s wedding and things go wrong, as usual...

Warning: Unwanted touching (nothing explicit), unedited (sorry for any errors)

Word count: 7,267

“You know, if I had to choose between eating an entire jean jacket or being your sibling, I’d choose the jacket.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means you’re infuriating to be related to. You’re so selfish, you couldn’t even remember when I told you earlier that I did ask him nicely to stop!”

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything about it! You could’ve just kept your damn mouth shut and-“

“And let him touch me?!” You yelled, shocked at what your sister was saying.

“Yes! It’s my wedding, goddammit!” She stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s my day, it shouldn’t be about you!”

You were silent for a long while after that. Flabbergasted that she would say such a thing, although you shouldn’t be, she’s always been selfish.

But you had hoped she would be on your side someday.

‘Oh, I see now. My hope in her was the joke.’

You had hoped.

But not anymore.

You had to take a step back, her words piercing your chest.

'Why am I so surprised? I knew this was how she is.'

'Because she's family, so it stings just a bit more than it would were she a stranger.'

"You make everything about you, you haven't changed these past nine years." She snarled, staring daggers at you.

You scoffed. "I do believe you're projecting a bit, dear sister. As You said earlier: it's your wedding; your day."

"And you're trying to take it from me!" She stomped her foot again. "You can't let me have one day-"

"What are you talking about? I just wanted to get through your wedding with my sanity intact."

"Then tell me why it had to be today. Why you had to make a big deal today."

"Are you serious? I didn't plan for this to happen today, or ever, for that matter."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Your head started pounding, dealing with your sister always left you with a nasty headache.

'Why does she have to be so difficult all the time?'

'She is our parents' daughter...'

'True...'

"Why would I plan for some stranger to put his hands on me?"

"As I said before: you wanted the attention on you today. I don't know why, but you won't succeed."

You threw your hands up in frustration. "You caught me! My evil plan has been foiled, now what am I left to do?"

"I'm being serious!"

"I know you are, and I don't know if I should feel sorry for you or-"

There was a knock on the door.

"They're waiting on you two to return so they can continue the speeches.” Your mother’s voice came from the other side. “We don’t have all day, so finish your discussion quickly.”

You sighed, not wanting to deal with this event any longer, especially if you're going to be accused of something you didn't even plan.

Who would plan something so stupid anyway?

If you really wanted to disrupt the wedding and get the attention of the guests then you would’ve shown up with Molotov cocktails…

That plan sounded more fun anyways.

'How annoying.'

'We could fake our death...'

'Doesn't sound half bad right now...'

"We'll be right there, mother." Your sister said, turning to you. "Be on your best behavior and try to keep your mouth shut."

She straightened her dress, "it's my day...it's my day..."

She mumbled that to herself on your walk back into the reception hall.

You caught Eric grinning ear to ear at you when you returned to your seat, making you shudder in disgust.

"What are you doing?" You asked him.

"What do you mean?"

You pointed at him, "that...thing you're doing with your face."

He tilted his head, confused.

"The thing with your face that makes you look happy...cut it out, it's making me feel nauseated."

The confused look was replaced with an angry one. "Your mouth is-"

"Gonna get me in trouble, yadda yadda." You waved him off.

He blew air out of his flared nostrils. "Watch it, you-"

"Let me take a wild guess...I won't like you when you're angry?"

"You're insufferable, you know that, right?"

You smiled, remembering the time you called Leon the same thing. "I learned from the best."

Your eyes sought Leon out, finding him a few minutes later. He had a worried look on his face, probably wondering why your sister dragged you out of the room. Nodding your head at him, you mouthed "I'm fine."

He nodded in return, smiling in relief.

He was probably going to go look for you if you hadn't come back when you did. He's always been protective of you. Not in an overbearing way, he always wanted you to fight your own battles, glad to support you from the sidelines. But if you were ever in any real danger then he would be at your side as quickly as he could, ready to kick ass.

You squirmed in your seat a little, thinking about Leon always had that effect on you. There was something about him...

'That turned you into a dick sucking whore?'

'Only Leon's whore though...'

'We're on the same page for once.'

'It's kind of scary.'

You felt eyes burning into the side of your face, you looked over at your sister.

"Have I done something already?" You asked sarcastically, feigning confusion.

Your stomach started aching, but you decided to ignore it.

You’d ache too if you had to deal with your sister more than you have.

"I told you that Eric is Brandon's best friend and the best man, you need to be on your best behavior. Keep your comments to yourself and be nice."

"I would rather take a bath with my toaster-"

"Y/N. behave."

'Remind me to steal all her charging blocks from her house.'

'Take her tv remote too.'

'Noted.'

"Alright, everyone. It's time for the parents of the groom to give their speech, then we'll move onto the maid of honor and the best man."

You froze.

‘The what now?’

Then you quickly spun to face your sister, panic clearly written on your face.

"I have to give a speech?" You asked, voice shaking. Your stomach was in your throat now.

Your sister gave you a mean smile, "yeah, did I forget to mention that?"

You narrowed your eyes; it was obvious now. She knew that you hated public speaking ever since you were a kid. Your parents made you give a speech at your aunt's funeral when you were eight. You barely knew your aunt, she was always in another state with her husband, living as hard as they could. Then one day she was diagnosed with lung cancer, years of smoking cigarettes not helping her case.

The funeral had a lot of people, mostly distant family members that you've never met before. Your mother had expected you and your sister to give individual speeches in your aunt's honor, although you begged her not to make you.

She did.

Your sister went before you. She had just turned eleven years old, her speech clear and concise. Going on and on about having ‘quality time’ with your aunt that obviously didn't happen, she just wanted everyone to think she was closer to your aunt than she really was.

Your mother nodded at you to step up to the podium once your sister was done.

You stood up, visibly shaking as you made your way to the step stool behind the podium. You tried so hard not to stare at everyone's eyes, having learned to imagine the audience as potatoes to help ease your nerves. You only got a few strangled words out before you lost consciousness.

Once you woke up, you noticed you had been brought back to the car you arrived in, vomit staining the front of your dress.

"I can't believe you did that!" Your sister was laughing in your face, holding no sympathy for you.

"What did I do?" You asked her, clearly confused.

"You mean you don't remember?" She started laughing harder. "You said 'hello', then threw up on our grandma!"

Heat gathered to your face, embarrassment making your stomach turn in circles.

"Then you fainted and hit your head on the podium! Oh, I hope they got that on camera!" Her laughs turned into guttural cries, "I can't breathe, I can't breathe!"

Your face was still burning when your parents entered the car, your father staring daggers at you.

"You have embarrassed us once more, Y/N." Your mother gritted out, sitting in the passenger seat.

"I didn't mean to, mother, I-"

You were too busy looking down, you didn't notice how your mother quickly turned in her seat to reach back and slap you across your face.

"Save your apologies." She straightened back in her seat as your father started driving. "Honestly, Y/N, why can't you be like your sister? Her speech was divine."

Your sister beamed, "thank you mother."

You haven't given a speech ever since that day, your fear of public speaking was still as present as it was back then.

"It'll be just like Aunt Cathy's funeral. You do remember that, don't you, Y/N?" Your sister smiled sweetly at you. Her fake sweetness brought back memories from when you both were kids. She would act so kind to you, so sweet and innocent. She definitely had you fooled at the time, because behind that fake façade of sweetness lies a selfish, bitter center.

But you weren’t kids anymore.

You knew she was setting you up to embarrass yourself in front of all these people. Why? Probably to make herself look like the better child, the more refined adult that your parents always wanted. She was elegant and well spoken.

And you couldn’t even give a speech.

'Is it bad luck to strangle the bride on her wedding day?'

'No, I think it would be poetic.'

"Excuse me for a moment, I'm going to run to the restroom." You told her.

"Don't take too long, you're up next."

You didn't even push your chair in after standing up, you just briskly walked to the women's restroom, heading straight for the sink. Splashing water on your face as you tried to take deep breaths.

'Don't pass out, your sister would love for you to embarrass yourself so she doesn’t have to lift a finger.'

'What the hell am I going to do?'

'Do you want to try and fake your death now?'

'With how fast my heart rate is, I don't think I'll have to fake it.'

Your chest was hurting, pressure from your racing heart making it hard to breathe. You could hear your blood in your ears, making you nauseated. Your head started to feel light, everything moving slowly around you, like you were stuck in slow motion.

'Get it together, Y/N, at this rate you're going to faint.'

You didn't even have a rebuttal for your thoughts, trying not to drown in your panic.

But you were drowning.

You didn't even hear the bathroom door open.

You had your eyes closed until you felt arms wrapped around you, a distant voice calling your name. The person pulled you into their strong chest and you easily curled your fingers into their shirt, not caring that you would wrinkle the delicate fabric.

A hand started rubbing circles against your back, deep breathing in your ear.

"That's it, Y/N. Deep breaths." They said.

You followed their instructions until your breaths matched theirs, your head starting to feel normal again. Your feeling much lighter than before.

"That's my good girl, you're doing great."

You opened your eyes, head craning up to look at the person holding you.

Leon.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked, worry evident in his tone.

"So much better." You murmured, "but how did you-"

"I saw you jump up in a panic, half-walking half-jogging out of the reception hall. So, I was worried and wanted to check on you." He kissed your head, "what made you have an attack?"

You smiled and tightened your grip around his torso, you really were an open book to him.

"My sister just informed me that I would be giving a speech."

"Even after last time?"

You had told Leon about your embarrassing failure of a speech on your second date together, trying to out embarrass each other. He was winning until you told him that you threw up on your grandmother and fainted. You were worried when he went silent, scared that he would never want to see you again. Then he asked you if everything turned out okay, and if you were okay after the traumatic event.

He was the first one to ask you if you were okay about what happened. No one else cared enough to worry what you had thought, how you had felt, how it affected you in the long run.

You were so touched by his question that you started crying. He immediately pulled you out of the restaurant you two were in and took you to his apartment, cuddling you the rest of the night while you clung onto him like a koala to a tree.

You woke the next morning extremely embarrassed, but you explained why you had cried. He smiled at you, rubbing your back and kissing your cheeks.

"You had me worried for a minute there, sweetheart. I thought I said something stupid."

He stuck with you through everything, listened to your life's stories, hugged you when you were overwhelmed, took care of you when you got sick, making you laugh when you felt like crying, cheered you on through college, supported you when you interviewed for your dream job, inspired you to create art again, motivated you to achieve your goals, listened to you when you told him your deepest fears, celebrated when you got a job in your dream career.

He really was the best thing to happen to you.

He never tried to baby you or belittle you. He wanted you to succeed by your own merit and wanted you to celebrate those accomplishments. He wanted you to live loud and love your life. He wanted to support you through everything that came your way. He wanted to love you and be yours until the end.

And you wanted to do the same for him.

You pulled his face closer to yours, kissing him. He deepened the kiss, pushing past your lips to battle your tongue for dominance. His grip on your arms tightened and you were sure there will be bruises on them tomorrow.

But you didn’t mind.

You loved it when he left marks.

He stepped away from you after you moaned into the kiss.

"If we keep that up then you won't be able to make your speech."

"Can't give a speech if my mouth is too busy with something else." You teased him.

He groaned, pulling you close again to put his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"The things you do to me..."

You sighed, bring his hands up to your mouth to kiss each knuckle with tender love.

"Are you going to go through with it?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"I guess I have to, don't want to embarrass myself in front of all these people."

"If you want, I can go up with you and be your support."

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat.

"You'd do that for me?" You asked, astonished.

"Of course. I would do anything to help you, Y/N, you know that."

The smile he gave you made you feel so safe, so loved.

Then you remembered: you could go through anything with Leon by your side.

You couldn't hold back the dazzling smile you gave him, heart feeling lighter than when you had first entered this restroom.

"Thank you so much, Leon."

You stood on your tippy toes, giving him a loving kiss, putting all your affection in the gesture.

You finally pulled away, grabbing his hand. "We better go before my sister goes on a manhunt for me."

He nodded as you pulled him out of the restroom and back into the reception hall. You both stood at the back of the room, not too far away from your sister.

"Thank you both for your beautiful speeches." The announcer clapped the backs of the groom's parents as they walked off the stage. "Now, we need the maid of honor to come give her speech."

Your chest tightened when you saw people looking around for you, eyes finding you instantly. Your breathing starting to become shallow and panicked once again.

You felt the hand you were holding tighten around yours, grounding you.

Looking at Leon, you took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren't going to be alone.

He would be there with you.

By your side.

Like he always was.

And you would be damned before you let your sister embarrass you.

The short walk to the stage gave you plenty of time to think of what you were going to say. You took extra care to be mindful of where you were stepping and how you stepped, not wanting to fall. You were pulling Leon with you by your linked hands, gripping tighter when you finally stood on stage.

You walked up to the microphone, Leon at your side. The audience chuckled as you lowered the stand to your height.

Taking a deep breath and looking around the room, you tried to feign calmness.

‘Fake it ‘til you make it, right?’

"Family, friends, thank you so much for coming, I know I speak for us all when I say that today is such a wonderful day for a wedding." You started, putting a sweet smile on that matched your sister’s. You had plenty of time to learn how to fake a smile while growing up.

You swear the microphone could pick up the sound of your beating heart. Your voice would falter every once in a while, but you sounded clear regardless.

And that’s all that mattered.

"To be honest, I didn't think my sister would ever get married. I didn't think any man would be good enough for my sister, but I was wrong."

"Brandon, when you came into my sister's life, you changed it for the better, the best even."

You had no idea, of course. Not having contact with your sister at the time she and Brandon started dating, but the audience didn't need to know that.

"She smiles so brightly now that you're in her life. And I've seen how she makes you feel, you've been smiling all day."

You looked at your sister, she was smiling at you, but you could tell it was as real as yours.

'She was hoping I'd make a fool of myself.'

‘Probably betting on it, actually.’

Leon let go of your hand, surprising you momentarily before he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, fingers massaging your side as you released a deep breath, stomach in knots.

"I'm so happy for you both. Glad that you were able to find each other in this world. And I'm glad we get to celebrate you both today, as you join as man and wife. May you have many long, happy years of marriage ahead."

The room erupted in polite cheers, like after every other speech that was given today. Leon tugged on your hand, pulling you off the stage.

He walked you over to your seat, leaning into your ear after you sat down.

"You did amazing, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

You smiled up at him, "thank you."

He reluctantly let go of your hand, walking back to his seat.

"That was beautiful, I didn't know you had it in you." Your sister muttered, annoyed.

"Thank you."

You didn't want to deal with her right now, your heart still reeling from Leon's words.

Eric's speech was next, but you didn't pay any attention to him.

You were too busy biting your lip, thinking about Leon, when you started to feel uncomfortably hot.

Your breathing shallowed, coming in quick bursts as you looked down to your trembling hands in confusion.

‘I thought I did a pretty good job, so why is my body acting like this?’

Beads of sweat gathered on your forehead as you swiped at them, the pressure in your chest returning.

It didn’t make sense to you. It was mid-autumn; the days didn't get above 80 degrees. You never really had a problem with heat, being cold natured made you love the warmth that summer would bring. You and heat got along together like old friends, reuniting after being apart for half the year.

So why were you burning up?

'What the hell is going on?'

'Your guess is as good as mine.'

You excused yourself to the restroom once more, not able to walk straight anymore. You shook your head, immediately regretting it when the world started spinning and you had to hold onto the wall for support.

'I think I'm going to be sick.'

You used the wall to guide you to the restroom, heading to the sink to splash water on your face, just like earlier. You looked up at your reflection as it stared back. Your reflection began shifting slightly as you looked into your eyes, eyes that stared back at you in confusion and worry.

'Did I hit my head or something?'

'Not that I can recall.'

You were getting tired, needing to rest. Leaving the bathroom, you headed toward one of the other doors, there were more empty rooms in this hall, and you didn't care which one you went to, as long as it had something you can sit on.

'I guess Leon's face isn't an option...'

'Not exactly the time.'

You went through the second door down from the restroom, closing it as you looked around, spotting a couch in the middle of the room.

You staggered over to it, sweat running down from your hairline to your neck. You were almost to the couch when you were suddenly on the floor, even more confused.

You looked back and saw a short coffee table that stood in front of the couch, you didn't even notice it on your way in. You scooted yourself back until your back rested against the bottom of the couch, resting your head back onto the seat of it.

'What am I going to do?'

'Rest for the moment, then see if you can find Leon.'

You nodded to yourself.

'Yeah, he should know what to do.'

Your breathing stayed shallow regardless of the deep breaths you tried to take, heart pounding in your ears.

'I should've kept my phone on me, then I could just call him.'

'It's in one of these rooms, right?'

'Yeah...'

You had set your belongings down in the spare room you got ready in when you arrived at the venue. Your dress didn't have any pockets, so you left your phone with your bag. The room you got ready in didn't have a couch in it, though. It only had chairs and accent tables.

Your head was spinning as you closed your eyes.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you left the reception hall, perhaps your sister would come looking for you. She would find you leaning against a couch, then start yelling at you for not being in your seat at the table. The maid of honor was supposed to sit next to the bride, after all.

What a joke.

You shouldn't have come today. Shouldn't have been so scared that your parents would do something to you if you didn't show. You should've stayed in bed all day today, snuggling with Leon on one of his rare days off.

But you did come to the wedding, you were afraid of your parents, and you did drag Leon to this stupid wedding on his day off.

"Oh, dear. Are you feeling all right?"

You looked up quickly, the world spinning faster.

"I'm fine," you squinted at the person, not sure who had entered the room with you. "Just needed a rest, is all."

You could see them getting closer, walking around the coffee table you tripped over earlier.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

The voice was trembling, trying not to sound excited. They wanted to put up a concerned front to mask whatever intentions they had.

The knowledge of this made your blood run cold.

"I don't mind assisting you..." They rubbed your shoulder slowly.

When did they get so close?

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, head aching from the day’s events. You shook your head, "No, I should be getting back, actually. The bride will kill me if I'm away for too long."

You pushed yourself up to your feet just as a hand dragged you back down to the floor.

"No need to be in a hurry…" The person gripped your arm so hard you were sure they would leave bruises.

“She is expecting me. I’m sure the speeches are all done by now and she’ll want me there when the cake gets cut.” You muttered, “it wouldn’t leave a good impression on the guests if the maid of honor wasn’t there to support the bride.”

“She’ll be fine without you.”

"Let me go or I'll set you on fire." You threatened, although you didn't have the materials to go through with the threat.

"You know, you have been threatening to kill me all evening, but you're not so scary when you're like this." They said, chuckling.

There was only one person who annoyed you enough today to threaten them repeatedly.

'Eric.'

"What do you want, Eric?" You asked, trying to pull your arm away from his grip.

“I want to help you.”

“Oh really? Because I have a funny feeling that your definition of ‘help’ and my definition of ‘help’ don’t exactly line up.”

"I've come to be honest with you, then." He began, "I have been harder than a rock ever since I first laid eyes on you when we were taking pictures."

'What a terrible day to have ears.'

He pulled you closer, burying his head in your neck, inhaling your scent.

'Definitely going to be sick.'

Your eyes frantically scanned the room, looking for anything to help you, but you couldn't focus them on any one thing.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

Eric kissed your neck before biting down, hard.

He was determined to leave a mark.

'Remind me to kill this fucker when we get out of this.'

'I didn't have murder on my calendar today, but I can definitely make some time for it.'

You looked around the room again, spotting a vase just out of reach of your foot. You must have knocked it off the coffee table when you tripped over it.

'I don't want to hear anyone say anything about my clumsiness ever again.'

You carefully maneuvered your foot to pull the vase closer so you could reach it. Your quick breaths masking the sound of the glass being kicked around a tile floor.

"You taste so good, Y/N."

You had to swallow the bile that rose, focusing instead on getting the vase into your hand. You let out a sigh when you finally got a hold of the vase with your middle and pointer finger, gently pushing it into the rest of your hand.

You had just tucked the vase securely against your leg when Eric pulled back, admiring his work.

"You're being awfully quiet, what are you thinking about?"

You looked at his face, finding where you would aim the vase. Fluttering your lashes to look innocent, lifting your left hand up to his cheek and running your thumb across his jaw.

"I've been thinking..." You began, "about how the world would've been like..."

He licked his lips while staring at yours.

"Like what?"

You pulled his face closer to yours, noses just inches apart.

"How the world would've been like if your dad had pulled out."

His aroused look was replaced with anger within a blink of an eye, but you didn't give him time to act.

You smashed the vase as close to his temple as you could, jumping to your feet once he let go of you.

You stumbled around the coffee table, not wanting to trip on it again. You heard Eric fall to the floor behind you, groaning.

"You're fucking crazy."

"Yeah, well, people like you are the reason I'm on medication."

You began to panic when you heard movement behind you, he was getting up.

"You'll pay for that, you bitch!"

"Put it on my tab."

You grabbed the handle of the door, throwing yourself through, you stumbled down the hallway as fast as you could toward the reception hall.

"What is going on here?"

You spotted your sister walking down the hall toward you, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Keep him away from me!" You shouted at her, pointing behind you.

You stopped right next to her, your head trying to catch up with your quick movements as your hands trembled against the wall.

"What do you mean?" Your sister asked, tilting her head at you. "He's not doing anything to you."

Your eyes widened, fear sending shivers down your spine.

"He's chasing me, he-he was trying to throw himself on me!"

Your sister looked back toward the reception hall, then turned back to you.

"Keep your voice down, don't want to cause a scene."

“No, I’m pretty sure I definitely want to cause a scene.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Eric finally caught up with you, looking at your sister. "Do you see what she did to me?"

Blood ran down the side of his head, hidden within his hair.

"She smashed a fucking vase into my head."

Your sister looked at you in anger, slapping you across the face.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I didn't want this asshole to kiss my neck."

"You could've seriously injured him!"

"That was the plan." You muttered.

"Eric, take Y/N to one of the spare rooms so she can calm down. Please stay with her, I'm worried she'll hurt herself in her condition."

'My condition?'

"How do you know about my condition."

She smiled at you. "Who do you think gave you the drugs?"

"Drugs?"

"The ones I put in the wine, of course."

'But the only wine I've had was from...'

Eric.

"Although, they told me you shouldn't be able to move after taking it. I guess you didn't drink both doses..."

You only had one glass of wine earlier.

So the full cup that sat on the table in front of your chair had also been drugged.

'She orchestrated this whole thing.'

'I'll add her to the hit list.'

"Why?" You asked, feeling Eric clamp down on your arm.

"I have an agreement with Eric to uphold. You were apart of that."

Agreement?

She...

"She sold you to me..." Eric whispered in your ear, biting down on your earlobe.

"Do make sure he gets repaid in full."

"I'll kill you!" You jumped at your sister, but Eric pulled you back before you could get a hold of her.

She laughed, walking away. "Have fun, you two!"

Eric started pulling you back down to the spare rooms, while you grabbed onto random doorknobs, holding tightly.

"Somebody, help me!" You shouted out, Eric covering your mouth as quickly as he could.

Anger boiled in your chest, replacing the pressure that had previously occupied it.

Anger at yourself for accepting a drink from a stranger you didn’t even know.

Anger at your sister for drugging you.

Anger at this piece of shit who thought he could have his way with you.

Once you felt his chest against your back, you pushed your elbow forward, then ramming it back as hard as you could into his ribs.

He hunched over in pain, hissing.

“Leon!” You shouted, pushing him off you.

You only got a few steps away when your legs were kicked out from under you, making you fall to the floor, hard.

“Leon!”

“Leo-“

Eric crouched down and shut your screams by punching you in the face, stunning you.

“Stop your incessant screams, no one can hear you over the crowd.”

Your jaw throbbed, making your head ache so much that you were sure you would pass out from it. But you were also sure that if you pass out, something bad will happen to you. You fought against the dark spots that dotted your vision, you were panicking again.

But who could blame you in this situation?

You stared daggers into Eric, hatred clear in your eyes.

“Why are you glaring at me so hard?” He laughed.

“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously burst into flames.” You spat.

He straightened, using his foot to push you down until your stomach was pressed against the floor. Then he lifted his leg, pulling it back to deliver a swift kick to your side.

Stars danced in your vision as you tried to curl into a ball, but Eric didn’t let you. He stepped down on your back, adding more pressure every time you tried to move.

“I told you that mouth of yours would get you in trouble.”

“Trouble…seems to be my middle name.” You gasped out, trying to catch your breath.

“With all the trouble you’ve given me today, you better be a good time.”

“Oh, I’ll show you a good time…” You muttered.

‘If only I had some gasoline…and a blowtorch. Then I would be able to show this bastard a good time…’

He roughly pushed down on your back before taking his foot off.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, dragging you closer to the rooms, and you knew you were running out of time. You didn’t think another vase would fall from the sky to aid in your escape.

You had to think.

And fast.

You kicked the back of his knee as hard as you could, forcing him to the ground grunting in pain.

“You bitch!”

“And the sky is blue, what’s new?”

He reached for your leg but only grasped air as you pulled your leg back as far as you could before kicking him in the side of his head. You kicked him again and again and-

“Y/N? What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked over to your mother, briskly walking toward you.

“Hey, did you bring a blowtorch with you today?” You asked her.

“What in the world are you doing to him, Y/N?!”

You looked down at Eric, he was unconscious, blood seeping from his mouth. He must’ve bitten his tongue while you were kicking him.

Good.

“Well, I wanted to show him a good time, but I need a blowtorch for that.”

She reached out and slapped you, hard.

You stared at her wide-eyed, then narrowed your eyes.

‘I’m tired of everyone thinking they can hit me whenever they want.’

“Enough of the sarcasm, just tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“This…disgusting bastard,” You gritted, gesturing to Eric, “tried to have his way with me, so I did what I had to do, even though I should’ve done much more.”

“He…tried to force you to…”

“Yes.”

Your mother opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Apparently, your favorite daughter sold me to him in some kind of agreement they made.”

You placed your hand on the wall for support, head still spinning.

“…Did…did he…?” She couldn’t even get the words out.

“No.” You whispered.

You looked at you for a moment, running her eyes up and down your person, checking for something. You leaned back, leaning against the wall before sliding down to the floor.

“My head is still a bit fuzzy. I’m just glad I was able to do what I did.” You let out a breath.

Leon had been training you in self-defense, but you haven’t gotten very far as of late. Your training sessions always got…steamy, which took most of the time away from the session.

But you weren’t complaining.

Eric groaned, waking up and slowly looking around.

“What happened?”

You held your head in your hand. “You got your ass beat. Or should I say head?”

“You fucking bitch.” He spat. “Making jokes even at a time like this.”

“Where was the joke?”

“I should’ve-“

“Learn how to take no for an answer?” You offered, “I agree.”

“Eric, tell me what happened.” Your mother looked at him.

“Y/N wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I would take her to rest in one of the spare rooms.” He pushed up to a sitting position, glaring daggers at you while rubbing his bleeding head. “But I guess she didn’t want to go, a simple ‘no’ would’ve sufficed.”

You whipped your head around at him, making your vision dance while you glared back at him.

“You have ten fingers now, don’t you?” You asked, tilting your head. “Wouldn’t you like to keep it that way?”

“You see how violent she is towards me?”

“If she isn’t then I will be.”

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. You didn’t have to be on the defense, waiting for Eric to make a move against you anymore.

You were safe now.

Leon crouched down next to you, eyeing your bruising cheek.

“Who did this to you?” He gently brushed his fingers over the splotchy red and purple of the bruise.

You grabbed his hand and held it to your face, leaning into his palm.

You recounted everything that happened to him, watching how his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He moved your hair out of the way to get a better look at your neck, teeth gritting while his eyes glared at each mark he saw. He turned to look at your mother.

“Call the police and tell them to come here quickly.”

“Yes.” She said and ran off.

You’ve never seen your mother run before.

“Do we really need the police?” Eric asked him.

Leon cracked his knuckles, “you will want them here.”

“Oh, will I?”

“You’ll want them to come pull me off you before I make you die a slow and painful death.”

Eric’s eyes widened at Leon’s look of murderous intent.

“Did you want a headstone? Because I was thinking of tying cinder blocks to you and throwing you in the ocean…” Leon turned to you, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, stay here.” He growled out.

‘I’m definitely sucking his dick later.’

‘You and me both.’

Leon stood, grabbing Eric by his collar and dragging him into the nearest room. He slammed the door shut and you heard the lock click.

‘He’s going to make what I did to Eric look like child’s play.’

You didn’t hear anything coming from the room for a few minutes.

“I didn’t, I-I swear I-“

Those were the last coherent words you heard from that room; his screams filled the silence. You shook your head, trying to shake away the fuzziness. You were slowly getting over the drug in your system, you were glad you didn’t drink from both glasses.

Who knows what could’ve happened to you if you had.

“What the hell is going on down here?!”

Your sister was running down the hall with a pissed off look on her face.

She must’ve heard Eric screaming.

“Bonding.”

“who’s in there with Eric?”

“Leon.”

She ran up to the door and started pounding on it.

“What is your crazy boyfriend doing to him?!”

“Hopefully crazy things.” You spat, pushing yourself to a standing position.

You walked over to your sister, putting your hand on her shoulder. She slowly turned to face you as you punched her as hard as you could. Satisfied when she fell to the ground.

She was always so fragile, never could take a punch or even a slap.

“We were supposed to be family,” you shook your hand, glaring at her. “I know we had a shitty relationship before this, but to do…to plan something like this?”

“This was beyond fucked up.” You crouched down and grabbed her cheeks, squishing them together harshly. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking end you. But that would be a mercy, so you’re going to continue to live but I’ll see to it you rot away in prison.”

Her eyes widened in fear.

“And if you don’t rot in prison…”

You slammed the back of her head into the floor. “Then you better hope I never find you.”

The police came shortly after you confronted your sister. They had to kick the door down and have three men pull Leon off Eric.

You gave them your statement and watched as they arrested Eric…well, you thought it was Eric anyways, Leon had beat him until he was unrecognizable.

They arrested your sister too and took the second cup of wine in to test what drug was used. They asked if you wanted them to escort you to the hospital, but you declined.

Other than a few scrapes and bruises, you were fine.

Eric had told Leon the agreement he had with your sister. Apparently, he and your sister met up the other day, to talk business. Your sister had gone into bankruptcy and needed financial help. Eric was hesitant to help, until your sister offered you as the cherry on top.

“He met up with her as a favor to Brandon, stalling her long enough so Brandon could have a go with his other woman, and he didn’t your sister to walk in on them.” Leon told you, shaking his head in disgust.

Two weeks later:

You were reading an article about your sisters’ arrest. Her mug shot looked like an excellent gift for her next birthday, you’ll have to go shopping for a frame.

Brandon decided to file a divorce against your sister after hearing about her bankruptcy. Apparently, cheating is okay but losing all your money is a step too far.

You haven’t heard much from your parents. Your father wasn’t a very emotional man, so he pretty much brushed it under the rug. Your mother looked more worried, which shocked the hell out of you. She never showed any concern for you before, only anger and hatred. You didn’t try to reach out to them, glad to go back to no contact.

Eric was awaiting his trial, but you didn’t think he would get a long sentence, predators like him usually didn’t. But you had sent a letter to him, informing him to never seek you out, or he would wish Leon had sunk him in the ocean that day.

You looked at the time on the computer and smiled. Leon should be getting home soon after a week-long mission. He was hesitant to leave you so soon after what happened, but you assured him you were fine.

And you were.

You had been lucky that things didn’t go as far as Eric wanted them to. You had to count your blessings where you could.

You shut off the computer and spun around in the office chair. You missed Leon and can’t wait to shower him in kisses once he walked through the door of your shared apartment.

Although you couldn’t remember much from the wedding due to the drugs and your anxiety, you would always remember it as a disastrous wedding.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader

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