#the body horror and the lack of control over his life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hearts4hughes · 11 days ago

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heart-shaped box - rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mdni ; smut ; mentions of murder ; dead body ; dark!rafe x naive!reader ; manipulation at its finest ; p in v

A/N: based on this request :)

the soft, night breeze sent a chill up your spine, raising goosebumps on your arms. you shiver, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie further down, the fabric thick and warm, but it can’t push away the feeling that something’s wrong. the night is unusually quiet around tannyhill. the only sound is the occasional creak of the porch as it groans beneath the weight of the house settling, like a sigh too heavy to escape.

you begin to walk up the steps to rafe’s house, heading towards his front door. the porch light is flickering, casting long shadows over the yard; you make a mental note to let rafe know. silence fills the air thickly, making it hard to breath. something feels off. you should probably turn back, but then your eyes lock onto the truck. biting your cheek, you contemplate investigating it. with a sigh, you strut towards the dark, looming truck.

it sits there in the driveway, bigger than life, its dark frame causing an unsettling feeling to vibrate through you. there’s almost a magnetic field around it, pulling you towards it more, and more. you bite down on your cheek, the taste of blood sharp against your tongue. you could just leave it, pretend you never saw it. you could turn back, find your way back to the warmth of the house, and into rafe’s arms. but you don’t.

now, approaching the back of the truck, you hesitate, your hand hovering near the door handle, the cool metal somehow burning against your skin. and then, you crack the door open, peaking through carefully.

and there it is—renfield’s body. his lifeless eyes bore into yours. the realization comes in a sickening wave, rising in your throat like bile. you gasp, mindlessly backing up slowly when your back hits a strong, muscular chest.

“i really wish you didn’t do that.” rafe’s voice is low, quiet, a knife wrapped in velvet. his icy blue eyes slice into you like cracked glass. he grabs your wrists harshly, his fingers wrapping tightly around your quickening pulse.

“rafe-”

“what did i tell you? huh? what do i always tell you?!” his voice rises, the veins in his neck bulging as he shakes you. his bangs cling to his sweat stained forehead. his breath is warm against your frigid skin. your breath hitches in your throat and you let out a small whimper. “to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you! and what do you do? you- you find something that doesn’t concern you!” he yells.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” tears stream down your rosy cheeks. your voice cracks, horror rushing through you like a wildfire. “i didn’t mean to.” you choke on your sobs. he stares you down, his eyes not the same as before. they lack the warmth and sparkle that he holds only for you

rafe stifles a laugh, but it’s humorless, almost cruel. his grip on your wrists tightens, but his eyes lose focus for a moment. “fuck, baby.” he mutters, as though he’s just waking from a nightmare, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to stop himself from losing control. his voice lowers to a growl. “you don’t know what you just did.”

you’re not sure whether it’s fear or something else that keeps you standing there, the tears still falling, still stinging your cheeks. you tremble in his grip, the fear now tangled with something else—something that feels almost like longing, despite the chaos.

he doesn��t let go, not yet. he pulls you upstairs, into the quiet of the house, but your thoughts are scattered. the fear still hangs heavy in the air between you, and your heart still races, but there’s a weight to him now, a strange quiet around you both. the confusion mixes with something else, something raw, but you don’t know if it’s the fear or the emotions he’s stirred in you. you try to breathe, try to calm the panic inside, but it only grows.

he leads you into his room and you sit on his bed. he stands in front of you, his features blank of any emotion. you wince as you bite a sore spot in your cheek. he sighs, shaking his head as he looks at you.

“you know i’d never hurt you, right?” he asks, his fingers land below your chin, lifting your head towards him. you stare at him, your doe eyes red with tears and your pouty lips trembling. you nod at his inquisition. “because i love you, baby. i love you more than anything on this planet.” his finger travels from your chin to your mouth, pulling at your bottom lip. “and- and sometimes love makes us do crazy things.”

a shock runs through your body and settles between your legs, something not like the fear you felt before. you nod mindlessly at rafe’s words. he groans at your captivating, yet dumb gaze. his hand travels lower, unzipping your sweatshirt, and exposing your tiny, sheer tank top, your bare breasts peaking through. he bites his lip and mutters curses.

“you’re so fucking pretty, my girl.” his voice is raspy and deep. you’re not sure why, but when he runs a finger over your covered nipple, you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath. it might have been the fear paralyzing you, or maybe the naivety of you to allow yourself to fall victim to rafe’s manipulations, but you felt arousal pool in your panties.

you open your mouth to speak, but he shushes you. “shhh, just let me take care of you. let me apologize for yelling.” he whispers. you squeeze your thighs together, eliciting a chuckle from him. “desperate already, hm?”

you don’t reply, you can’t, you can barely muster up a nod as he grabs the hem of your top, pulling it over your head. the cold air hits your warm nipples causing them to perk up. he rolls one inbetween his fingers, examining each and every reaction you had. you moan, throwing your head back and giving him access to your neck.

his mouth latches onto your neck, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. your moans become louder as his hands slip down to your jeans and begin undoing them, all while his face is in the crook of your neck. he leaves deep hickies in the wake of his lips, kissing the sore skin after. he moves down your body, capturing your breasts between his lips. he sucks and nips at them, a delicious mix between pain and pleasure.

you open your eyes when he pulls away, fumbling with his belt, and zipper. his bulge causes a tent in his pants that makes your mouth water. he moans as he pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. his angry length hits his abdomen and you can’t help but stare.

it isn’t long before he’s lining himself up with your entrance, teasingly running his length between your soaking folds. “always so wet for me,” he tsked, running his tip over your clit. you twitch at his movements. he takes his ring and middle finger, running it through your sopping folds and bringing it to his lips. he sucks his digits clean, groaning at the taste.

“please, rafe,” you whine, the ache between your legs borderline unbearable. “need you so bad.” your words are barely coherent as you’re wrapped up in a blanket of ecstasy and pleasure.

he smirks and pushes himself inside you with one quick thrust. you gasp, clinging onto his biceps and creating crescent shaped indents. he barely gives you time to adjust before he’s pulling out and snapping his hips against yours. a long drawn-out whimper leaves your lips as his length stretches you.

“shit- you’re so perfect.” he mumbles, leaving sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck. he picks up his pace slightly, hitting your cervix with each thrust. he groans as your walls clench around him. “squeezing the shit out of me, baby.”

your mouth hangs agape and incoherent mumbles tumble out. you’ve had sex with rafe plenty of times, but you’ll never get used to his enormous size.

he pulls away from your neck to observe your face as he ruthlessly pounds into you. he swore he could have cum on the spot as your face contorts in pleasure. he picks up his pace, repeatedly hitting the spongy spot inside you. the only sounds to be heard are the sweet sounds falling from your lips and skin slapping against each other.

suddenly, he pulls out, changing positions so you were on top of him. he realigned himself with your cunt and slammed you down on it. your eyes rolled back in your head at the new angle. you were so full that there was an outline of his bulge inside of you. your hands fall to his chest, holding yourself up as you bounce on of him.

“tell me you love me.” he commands, his hands on your hips guiding you up and down his cock. your juices pool around the base of his cock, creating a white ring. “tell me you’ll never leave me.”

“i love you, rafey.” the words tumble out of your mouth without much thought. “i’ll never leave you.”

he grunts in satisfaction before holding your hips and halting your movements. before you can complain, he’s bucking up into you at a rapid pace. your toes curl with each thrust. his hands fall between your legs, circling your clit at a rapid pace.

with your eyes closed, you miss the way his eyes are trained on you. the way his jaw clenches with each moan you make or how his muscles tighten as he struggles to compose himself.

he feels your walls spasm around him and he immediately pulls you flush against his chest. his strong arms wrap around your body as he thrusts up faster now, making you squeeze your eyes shut. it isn’t long before white takes over your vision and you come with a final whimper. your juices drip from your cunt onto his lower body.

he chases his own high as you lay limp in his arms. the only words that slip from your pathetic mouth are ramblings of his name. he continues to abuse your pussy until he’s dumping his load inside you, painting your walls white. his hips finally begin to slow as you both come down from your climaxes.

“i love you so much, baby.” he whispers, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. he’s still buried deep inside of you, making it hard to think. “just forget what you saw before, alright?” his breath is hot on your skin, leaving a burning sensation as you’re stretched to your maximum.

“ok,”

“such a good girl.”

he coos, pulling himself out of you. you whine at the emptiness. he disappears momentarily before coming back with a wet rag and fresh clothes. he kneels in front of you, kissing your thighs, and cleaning the mess between them. the more he kisses and praises you, the less you remember the body in his truck.

and the next morning, when the world feels softer, and you wake up tangled in the sheets, the light coming through the windows, rafe stands at the foot of the bed. his expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, something that says he’s already moved past the moment.

“get ready,” he says, his voice low, distant. “we’re leaving for the bahamas. now.”

#nora’s writings 💐#hearts4hughes #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #obx season 4 #obx

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essenteez · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 || 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐 𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆

"Such fragile little thing, you are. Yet you managed to enslave me, the death itself."

“I won’t be gentle. I can't.” He warns, breaking away from the dazing kiss. "I waited a whole year. Twelve, long months. Over three hundred, fucking days controlling myself and keeping my hands to myself. No more."

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: A year passed after you were ostracized by everyone for being a fallen woman. You get the news of a tragic murder of your former fiancé, because of whom you were left with no family and friends. You feel no compassion, but pure joy. Now, you can let go of the past and focus on Jongho, a mysterious lord who saved you from a certain demise and took care of you. You're now ready to embrace your new life fully and the dark secret of your savior.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: vampire jongho x f!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, horror

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, unprotected sex, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, fingering (f!recieving), rough sex, oral (f!recieving), creampie, overstimulation, blood mention, mention of revange murder, a little horror.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6.6k

London, September 3rd, 1832, Monday.

11.25 PM.

Today is the first death anniversary of the old you. The old you who was disowned by your family, pushed away by your entourage, betrayed by the man you trusted the most. The person that you once wanted to spend your life with - your fiancé, who was found dead yesterday.

Do you feel grief? Of course not. Are you sad? He wishes you were. Although you have to admit that if ever, any wish of death for him had crossed your mind, it was never that brutal.

The headlines of today’s morning newspaper mention a dismembered body, completely drained of all blood. Shreds of your former fiancé were discovered somewhere in one of Oxford's slums. The incident probably makes people sick to their stomach, but your guts are fine. You only felt disgust while reading those lies about what a wonderful son and noble man he was, and what a loss to his parents and the country. It does hurt to see that no one knows what monster he truly was. Well, it is not your problem anymore. Actually, you could thank him for the chance he gave you to have a better life.

Much better life with your new protector. Your new world. Lord Choi Jongho.

However, the news has ruined your day. You have been feeling restless all day, missing him with all your being. You have barely touched any food or left your room. You also told your maids to not disturb you, letting them in only to prepare you a hot bath. He has not left your thoughts even for a second today, leaving you hoping he comes back as soon as possible.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you put on your white night dress. There is a little aching in your muscles from the lack of entertainment since morning. It makes you groan when you decide to massage your neck. The hot bath helped you feel a little better, so you are grateful to your lovely maids.

Phlegmatically, you start brushing your long locks when the rain outside suddenly grows stronger, now pelting at your window. At first you ignore it but the sound of a quiet thunder makes you turn your face towards the window. Lighting flashes on your face as you strongly pull the heavy blinds to one side, another roar of the storm follows after a few seconds.

"Perfect." You mumble, blinking quickly after the sudden flash of light manages to blind you. The weather only worsens your mood. You hate storms with a burning passion. It also reminds you of him as he always accompanies you when the brutal weather does not let you feel relaxed. But he’s not here right now.

You flinch at a sudden knocking on your door. In the manor you grew up in, you could hear someone approaching your room from meters away, because of the floor creaking. The floor here also isn't quiet, but somehow you never hear the maids, or Jongho coming.

You clear your throat before calling. "Come in!"

You let go of the blinds, reaching for the brush to resume combing your hair, as a short, skinny girl slides inside your bedroom, curtseying before you.

"My lady."

"What is it, Annabelle?” You ask dispassionately but still trying to make your tone sound kind. "I told you and Sybil to leave me alone, didn't I?"

"Yes, my lady, you certainly did. But you also ordered earlier that we inform you about the lord's whereabouts. I come to announce my lord's arrival back to the mansion. He is asking if you would like to join him for a glass of wine before going to bed.” She continues, her pretty face smiling from ear to ear, knowing well she brings good news to you. “The heavy storm is getting closer, so my lord also thought you would feel better if you had company until it calms down."

You stand up rapidly, almost dropping the brush on the ground as you turn to the maid. You can't hide your excitement. He finally came back. Thank God. He left a week ago and everyday was like torture for you. After hearing today's news, you have craved his presence more than ever.

"Alas-" You shout excitedly, quickly realizing how loud it sounded. "I mean... Yes, I would like to join Lord Choi for a glass of wine."

“My lord foresaw that answer.” Annabelle smiles at you, being vividly happy to see your mood change. "He will be waiting for you in ten minutes in the main saloon.”

When she sees your nod at her announcement, she curtseys again before leaving you. "My lady"

The moment the maid closes the door behind her, you run to your vanity. Your hair is already brushed but you notice how gray your skin looks. Still, not as gray as Annabelle or Sybil's, but the whole day of boredom and overthinking indeed seemed to exhaust you. Despite the lack of life on your face, your eyes start to shine with a familiar glow. A glow only he can awake in you. You bite your lips and pinch your cheeks to bring some blood to your face.

At the finish, you slide on a red, silk robe on. His favorite color as he once mentioned.

You already got used to the prevailing rules in this house; no lady and lord calling between you two, no severe etiquette. It was like stepping into a different world. It didn’t take you long to adapt since you hate hierarchy like that. You enjoy life now. If your mother only knew you were walking around in a thin night dress under a robe in the house of a man that you are not related to, she would surely faint. You couldn't care less though.

You no longer have a mother or family. All you have is him.

After ten minutes, you walk down the wide, winding stairs. It is pretty dark as the candles are unable to illuminate such a large, dark space. Fortunately, after a year of living here you already know every inch by heart.

The storm is getting closer with every second now. A glare of a lightning, soon followed by thunder, illuminates the whole mansion making you jump in fear.

While reaching the ground floor you notice a warm, weak light at the end of the main hall which makes you smile subconsciously. The light is leading you to the main saloon where he is supposedly waiting for you.

Your eyes go to him the same moment you enter the room. He is standing with his back facing you, looking at the unraveling storm outside the tall window. His palms are clasped behind his back as he faces the thunders, not bothered by the noise. Jongho is an embodiment of the peace you have craved for all week.

He is here. You do not want to think about what would've happened to you if he didn't find you back then, a year ago.

After your disappointed parents threw you out of your family house, you were wandering the misty streets of Oxford, completely soaked from pouring rain. Your fiancé's grand plan to ruin your family's reputation was a success. Deceived by his promises of mad love, you gave yourself to him before the wedding. And he used it to accuse you of betrayal with some non-existent man. With no way to prove your innocence, you were ostracized and your family immediately cut you off to save the last shreds of dignity. All that to take revenge on your father for some old grudge his family had against yours.

You were miserable, you had given up with no place to go. Since news about the lewd Lady (y/l/n) spread quickly, people passing you by looked at you with disgust on their face.

But suddenly someone stopped in front of you, putting their black umbrella above your head. A mysterious lord. His deep, black eyes and gentle smile helped you survive. Since you had nothing to lose and you needed to vent your pain, you didn't care if it was a stranger listening.

There was something about him that made you tell him your story. You were certain that he would act just like everyone else, but he didn’t. He took care of you, he listened. You could see the anger in his eyes when you uncovered the ugly truth about how you were treated.

Then, Jongho took you to London, gave you a new last name, a new life, far away from those rumors and hateful looks. You could finish your education and do more things than any other woman in England could. Just when you thought you would never trust anyone, there he was.

"Are you going to stare at me like that all night?" His gentle, amused voice interrupted you, drowning in your memories. You straighten your back at his words and gulp softly. A heat burns your cheeks at your own carelessness.

"Forgive me. I did not want to disturb you watching the storm. I know you love this type of..." You gasp quietly as he slowly turns and looks at you with that mysterious gaze that you know so well. After a year you still can't read him which was drawing you to him even more. “...weather.”

His raven black, tidy hair contrasts perfectly with his white colored blouse. A ruby brioche at his neck that shines with red glow.

Sudden lighting illuminates him entirely from behind, showing you the outlines of his perfect body underneath the shirt. His broad shoulders make you breathe faster. It is safe to say Jongho is the most beautiful man your eyes have ever seen.

Graceful in every movement. Eloquent with every word he says. So intimidating, which always makes you blush and loudly swallow. But he is also kind, with a one of a kind sense of humor. Each of your new London friends thinks he is none other than your distant cousin. And they all find him pretty scary but witheringly attractive.

"I have heard that you have not eaten anything today and that you did not leave your room until now.” A sudden change of his tone disturbs your inappropriate thoughts.

You drop your gaze to your feet.

"I presume birds brought you the news." You threw a look at Annabelle and Sybil, who are now preparing two glasses and a bottle of wine at the table. They are avoiding your eyes, feeling uncomfortable with your sharp gaze on them. You only reassure yourself in the conviction that the telegram you saw Sybil writing this morning was indeed for him.

"They really worry about you, (y/n). Especially Annabelle. I tried my best to come home as soon as I could after seeing the news." He lowers his head a little, vividly curious about your reaction.

You feel butterflies form in your stomach, hearing he rushed as fast as he could to you. You look at him with a gentle smile, thanking him.

Lighting flashes again, bringing loud thunder with it as he asks.

"Do you, perhaps, feel saddened?"

Your smile disappears. You look each other in the eyes for a longer second until you break eye contact so he doesn't see what your mind is full of right now. You start moving towards the black wooden table after the girls left you both alone. You pour wine into both glasses.

"No." You smile, licking your lips before taking a big sip of a red liquid.

Jongho observes your every move, visibly surprised with your tone.

"Do you think I should?”

"I do not think he deserves any compassion from you.” He moves closer, not taking his eyes off of you.

"Does it make me an evil person?” You ask, taking another sip of the alcohol. Your tolerance isn’t strong, so you already feel the wine messing with your head. Or maybe it is the effect of his simple existence.

"If all evil people were as evil as you, the world would be a paradise.” He halts right behind you, hoping you won't run away as you always have.

"Paradise…” You echo, surprised and amused at the same time. “I don’t think so. I'm stained after all. Sex before marriage is a big sin. My future lies in a convent anyway.”

You put the wineglass to your lips emptying the glass.

"Future and convent in one sentence.” He chuckles, standing dangerously close to you. “That’s new.”

"Well..." You start slowly, trying so hard to control your breathing. "I've been actually thinking about it. One day I will have to leave this place and since I'm a fallen woman, there is no chance for me to become what I was meant to become - a good wife and one day, a mother. England has no use of me. Convent is my only option, don't you think? You don’t want me to ruin your reputation."

"Can't you tell I don't really care about my reputation, darling?" His lips are right beside your ear, sending shivers down your heated body. "But if people finding out your true identity bothers you so much, we will move to another place. We can do it even tonight. France, Italy, Spain, China. We can leave here and now and be whoever we want to be. In France, I can be your cousin. In Italy, I can be my fiancé and in China... your husband?"

Each word recited with his hot breath teases the skin of your neck, his hard member boldly pressed against your back. When Jongho hears your soft gasp, he grabs your hips, spinning you around to face him.

You stare into his deep eyes, full with a growing fire. You can't help but breathe faster, feeling his body glued to yours. He, noticing that, smirks at you.

"You're not a fallen woman, (y/n). You're a free woman. Can I finally prove that to you?"

You don’t even have a chance to say anything before his long fingers entangle around the back of your neck, bringing you closer so your lips can finally meet. You are surprised at the suddenness and force, but you quickly adjust, equally as hungry. That kiss is long overdue.

The storm gains strength above the mansion, but all you can hear is your pounding heart and both your heated breaths.

You can't help but moan into the kiss you have dreamt of for so long. He pushes you back onto the table behind you, kissing you so passionately that you forget whose air you are breathing His knee suddenly thrusts between your thighs, stopping them from rubbing against each other.

Whimpering at the action, you grab his waist to not lose balance. Moans begin leaving your previously abused mouth, as he’s now mercilessly attacking your neck. The cotton fabric of his pants was rubbing against your core. With every move, Jongho deepens the intensity of his leg between your trembling thighs. You mewl in delight as he pulls you closer to his chest.

"Move your hips for me, darling. The same way you move them so seductively with the pillow between your legs at night when you're all alone." He groans into your ear, sucking on your earlobe.

You slightly open your eyes at his words. How does he know? You always try your best to be quiet and leave no traces of your moments of weakness. Did he hear you, see you?

The thought Jongho might've listened to your quiet whimpers or that he peeked inside while your neediness made you lower your guard adds another wave of arousal to your already weeping pussy.

"Ride my thigh. I want your essence all over my thigh.” He purrs.

You follow the command without hesitation, desperate for more friction. You feel the tension building up in your body as you are grinding at his thigh muscles. He bites his lower lip, watching how you repeat the dance of your hips from all the previous nights when you were pleasuring yourself and he fought hell to not storm in your bedchamber and ravage you sweet holes.

“Yes, just like that.” His groans have you trembling. With an impatient move he pulls your night dress up. “I fantasized about it way too many times. Ride it, darling.”

Jongho pins you even harder to the table, moving fast in an opposite direction which causes your mouth to let out silent moans and loud gasps. His hand never leaves your neck, only tightening the grasp to keep you where he wants to have you. The other impatient arm wraps around your waist to secure you from falling back onto the table.

"Cum as hard as you need, as loud as you want. No one will judge you here.” His burning eyes are now studying your face contorted with immense pleasure and desperation for release. Your eyes closed as you're indulging in the sensation.

"Look at me." He commands from behind his teeth. "I want you to look at me when you fall apart."

You half-open your eyes, but you can barely see him through your hazy sight. You are so close to the edge that the motion of your hips starts to become sloppy and uneven.

Lightning keeps flashing inside the room, and the walls shudder from the thunder that comes with the light.

And then you see it. A moment when two worlds meet. You swear you saw black voids for eyes staring right at you for a short second. You smile, happy that all your suspicions were true.

It finally showed up. Jongho's truth.

Even though the vision is gone, and you are looking Jongho's chocolate pupils again, you know it all now.

You have a creature of the night in front of you, with his thigh rubbing between your legs, making you see the stars. The view of his face watching you intensively with those lustful eyes and his clenching jaw is enough to bring you to your high fast, right on the edge.

"Jongho.. I…" You whine loudly as he pulls you as close to his body as possible, sliding his thigh back and forth.

“Yes, darling. Say my name.” He breathes out, before sucking on your neck’s pulsepoint.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, as the bliss explodes within you. The waves of your overpowering heat hit one after another. You feel the strength leaving your body as the spasms slowly begin to fade. You give up completely, falling into his strong embrace.

Jongho slows down, peacefully rub the last ounces of high out of you while pressing you against his strong chest.

"You sing so sweetly from pleasure.” He whispers into your neck. "I want to hear it over and over again."

Pulling his thigh from underneath you, Jongho hisses in satisfaction at all the juices covering his pants. In gratitude, he reaches for your lips. He pampers your mouth with his eager kiss, his own tongue flicking over the soft flesh, gently caressing the sweet taste of you.

You're too enchanted by his perfect kiss to register that he begins to gently strip you of your robe. Your nightgown gets quickly unbuttoned by his skillful fingers and ends up on the floor in no time. Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss to sit you up onto the table. The coldness of the surface causes you to recover a bit from your high.

"Look at your painting, (y/n)." He looks down at his left thigh. You completely soaked it. Your face heats up. Your juices glistening in the pale candle light, and a series of lightning strikes.

He steals another kiss, finding your embarrassment cute.

"I want the same on my tongue."

Your eyes grow bigger. What does he mean? You have to admit you still have zero experience but tongue? Down there?

"What are you doing?” You panic, still panting as he spreads your quivering legs wider, kneeling between them.

"He never did it for you?" He asks, looking up at you in surprise.

"Umm, no." You can't focus due to his hot breath blowing at your puffy folds. His laugh caused by your answer only adds new waves of sensation. You lick your lips feeling their dryness caused by your excitement. Seeing his handsome face framed by your thighs, it stirs something inside you.

"Please." You whimper quietly.

"Since you're asking so nicely. I could never say no to you.” He teases, raising his brow at your shamelessness. He's visibly satisfied with your sudden change.

You don't mean to beg, you really don't. But every bit of your control goes out the window. Your body is speaking up for you, while your common sense and shame are locked up somewhere deep down.

His wet, lazy kisses make invisible marks on your inner thigh, preparing for the act. The sight, the feeling of him licking and sucking on your skin, cleaning you up from the previous release make you want to go insane. The sounds he makes while doing it, like he's tasting heaven, doesn’t help.

Jonghi lifts your legs, laying them over his shoulders for better access, causing you to fall back a little and support yourself with your hands behind.

He graces your clit with small kisses, receiving little whimpers from you. He smiles against your core before attacking your folds aggressively.

"Oh-"

There was no time for any proper reaction. Every muscle in your body tense up from the circling motions of his tongue. He runs it through your lower lips, pulling and sucking on them with a popping sound. You feel the heat quickly spreading through your whole body from the spot where he had been pleasing you.

“Fuuuck.” He mumbles with his mouth full of you. With his tongue he delves in your entrance, his brows frowning as he can't contain his arousal from the way you taste so good.

“Jongho…” You’re bewitched by the view of his restless mouth, feeding on your needy cunt. This feeling is new with the level of intimacy you have never reached before. You feel lewd, seen, absolutely scandalous. And you love it. All of it. Your hip begins to move to his rhythm, craving for more.

“Pass me the glass." He says suddenly, parting from your throbbing pussy, causing you to groan in disappointment. "Behind you, darling.”

You looked over your shoulder to see your empty glass and the glass with the wine he hasn't drunk yet.

Seeing your confusion, he chuckles, “The full one.”

You carefully hand him the liquor, sure that he wants to quench his thirst. But that is not his plan. He is going to quench his thirst but not with wine.

Out of nowhere he raises the glass in your direction and starts carefully pouring the wine down your chest.

You gasp, stunned, trying not to move and disturb him. You are just looking down at him, completely focused on the red streams that were slowly flowing between your breast, down your stomach and to your womanhood.

His tongue revisiting your pussy, nimbly licking off the wine.

"Oh my…" You moan loudly, as he starts drinking the liquor off your folds.

Satisfied with how the wine easily flows down its path, Jongho begins to pour more, creating a bigger and faster river that he messily slurps along with your juices until the glass is empty.

You can't keep yourself up any longer. Your hands give up on you causing you to fall back onto the table. The pleasure is overwhelming, making your back arch. Although your sight is hazy, you want to see him again, down there, devouring you like it was his last meal. The room is beginning to dim as the candles are on their last burn. Lighting was the only source of light now.

"J-Jongho!" You call to him among your loud moans.

Then you see it again, two black voids fixated on your face. The sight of Jongho's true side that he apparently can't control whilst being filled with lust, gives you greater satisfaction. He sharply throws the glass aside, shattering it on the wall. Then, he wraps his arms behind your thighs, pinning you down to the table. His tongue quickens, flicking across your clit making you see white.

"Jong- Oh!” You slip as a strong orgasm crashes over you, twisting your body with unimaginable pleasure. Your hands grab both sides of the table, feeling your warmth flooding on Jongho's tongue and lips. He sucks on your clit, bringing every last bit of your orgasm out of you and taking his time to clean your pussy of your essence and the rest of the wine.

"Mmmm. You taste too sweet. Too delicious for the covent." He coos, his voice heavy with arousal. He starts tracing his way back up your body with his tongue, slowly following the trails of sticky wine, ending it with hungry kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"So?" He asks as his face aligned with yours. You dare to look into his eyes as he hovers over you.

"So?" You repeat, out of breath.

"Are you feeling free yet?" He smirks with a sinful spark in his eyes.

You know exactly what he's asking about.

You return the smile, "Not yet."

With these words he straightens up and rips open his wine stained blouse, throwing its shreds on the floor. The ruby brooch clatters somewhere on the wooden panels.

You cannot take your eyes off his perfect body. You fantasized about it so many times but it's still more than you could ever imagine.

"Like what you see?" He asks, amused by your awe. He begins to unbelt, then takes off his black pants that were soaked with your cum. “Cause I like my view very much."

You wish to sit up but Jongho stops you, climbing on the table hovering over your body. His enormous frame towering over you makes you feel so small and vulnerable.

He leans down and kisses you incredibly slowly, you melt over the taste of his, yours and the wine that linger on his lips. You feel it with the deepest, darkest corners of your soul, returning the affection with quiet moans. You are his, from the first sight. Maybe it is an illness of falling in love with your savior or maybe it is real. You don't care. You stopped caring about details a long time ago.

"What happened, (y/n)?” He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “You resisted me for so long and today you serve yourself on a golden platter."

You smile and flick your tongue on his lips.

“You killed him for me” You moan out, feeling his warm cock, throbbing against your abdomen. “Didn’t you?”

He pulls himself up, taken aback at your words. His dark eyes study your face, searching for any sign of fear or doubts. But he finds none of it.

“(Y/n), I…?”

“I know everything, Jongho. I’ve known for some time now.” You explain, almost moaning out every word. You’re squirming with neediness underneath him.

You heard Sybil tell the postman to take the telegram to Jongho. To Oxford. You connected everything in an instant. You couldn't help but imagine him covered in your fiancé's blood which made you go insane with lust.

“I’m all yours to take.” You declare.

With every word leaving your mouth his eyes are getting darker. It is his dream come true. You, accepting what he is and what he is able to do for you.

He claims your quivering lips once more. Wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders you let his tongue penetrate your mouth, wrestling with yours while his length found its way to your pussy, rubbing on your dripping folds.

“I won’t be gentle. I can't.” He warns, breaking away from the dazing kiss. "I waited a whole year. Twelve, long months. Over three hundred, fucking days of controlling myself and keeping my hands to myself. No more."

"Take as much as you need. As rough as you want." You say, giving him the allowance, using your version of his own words. You want him to fuck you into that wooden table. "Just take me, Jongho."

Leaning down to your neck, he draws a long breath, inhaling your scent that turned his life upside down the moment he sensed it for the first time. He remembers vividly how you passed him by on one of the streets in Oxford. Despite the crowd, your scent was like vines, climbing up his legs and making them follow after you. As any vampire would, he craved to feed on you. The initial plan was to take you away, seduce you so he could sink his fangs anytime he felt thirsty. But then he heard your story. And to his own surprise, he didn't want to take advantage of it. He wanted to protect you, punish people who had hurt you and keep you under his wings. He dared to dream of having you near until the end of time.

“So delicate.” He hums against your neck and ear. “So fragile, so… human. Yet, your sweet blood has never tempted me to taste it. I want to make it burn your veins with lust, need and love. I want to smell it racing as I kiss you, touch you. I want to hear it pulsating in your thighs while I eat your precious pussy out for hours. I want to listen to it beat in your heart that I want to protect. I will never let a drop of it to shed. I swear it to you.”

You suck in a soft breath at his declaration. You are left speechless as he kisses your pulsepoint as a seal to his words.

Both don't speak as your faces align. Jongho holds your gaze as he starts kissing his way down the valley between your breasts. He places a sweet kiss on the left side of your chest to feel your heartbeat under his lips.

You tangle your fingers into his silky hair and gently tug on it. A breathy moan is ripped from your chords as he begins sucking on your nipple, while the other gets captured between his thumb and index finger. He keeps your gaze as he flicks his tongue on your bud.

Grabbing fistfulls of your bosoms, he scoops both and engulfs them with his mouth, sucking and pulling them. His hard cock keeps grinding against your leaking slit.

“Jongho… please.” You whine, feeling like overheating. “Ease this fire.”

At your plea, he lets go of your breasts with a pop sound. The vampire rises up, finally blessing you with all his grace. His impressive size makes you gasp, having your wetness increase instantly. He's so erect you see every little vein decorating his manhood. The tip glistens with precum that you get a sudden urge to taste, your tongue ghosts your dry lips.

Jongho spreads your trembling legs wider, placing them on his hips. The feeling of his hot skin and hardened muscles on your inner thighs causes your core throb with anticipation.

"You want to be fucked by a monster so bad, don’t you?" He taunts with a sinister smirk, guiding his length up and down your folds, spreading your wetness all over his tip. Your whimpers drive him to groan. He takes his time to prepare your pussy for sweet abuse.

"Jongho, please.” You can't take it anymore, but he seems to enjoy the torture. "Fallen or free, just take me."

These words work on him like magic. You hear his dangerous giggle before he grabs the flesh of your hips with his big, hungry hands and slams himself inside you.

You squeal at the sudden stretch of your tight walls and put your hands on his wrists. You haven't had a man inside you for a whole year. Not to mention, you never had someone that big.

Although he warned you about not being gentle with you, you still are not prepared for the power he starts to penetrate you with. He pounds into you hard without any mercy on your poor body and soul. He has all the control over your hips, pulling them and impaling you on his pulsating cock.

"Oo-h l-ord!” You cry out with pleasure.

"So tight, yes. " He growls out, instantly satisfied. “Ah, you're going to make me come quickly, love of mine.”

He slows down after a few more hard thrusts, lowering himself to hover over you again.

You are loudly gasping for air. It's difficult to breathe due to his previous enormous force. His cock, now torturing your insides with a painfully slow pace.

"That's exactly how I imagined you looking underneath me, darling. So tiny and defenseless. Entirely mine." He whispers, licking a long wet strip between your breast, bringing it up to your jaw.

You arch your back, tangling your fingers in his raven hair again.

He laughs quietly at the sudden swirling movement of your hips on his length.

"Mmmm, you're squeezing me so good."

After a few seconds of enjoying the moment, Jongho grabs your legs, placing them onto his shoulders. His cock sinks even deeper into you, making a new series of moans to leave your mouth.

His thrusts become even stronger, taking you beyond your imagination. Your head is spinning, the haze again falls upon your eyes as you hold tight the table's edges above your head. He fills you completely, his throbbing pride rubbing all the right places.

You can't make any kind of sound. The fire between your thighs starts spreading all over your body.

"I'm.. Jongh… please, please!" You scream repeatedly as waves of indescribable ecstasy start to flood you, making your body spasm again. Loud moans mixed with roars of thunder fills the mansion.

"Fuuck, yes, sweetheart." He joins you in the lewd ritual, feeling your walls closing around his length, squeezing him. Jongho straightens his back, throwing his head back, pushing into you slowly, riding both your highs.

You feel his cock twitch as he unloads his warmth inside you. And it’s followed by a sudden, loud, bloodcurdling laugh that makes you look up at him.

This time you see more than just two black voids instead of the chocolate eyes of your lover. Long fangs glisten in the dark. His whole face, covered in black veins as he's savoring in ecstasy.

"J-Jongho…" You call out breathlessly, feeling like your high grew back intensively, just at the view of his true form that you have fantasized about so many times.

Breathing heavily, he lets his gaze fall down at you. The sinister smile is still painted on his lips. He gives you a few last slow thrusts just so he can watch your face and listen to your adorable whimpers again. You then felt his length slowly sliding out of you followed by his thick seed dripping from your hole. He stared at his masterpiece for a short instant and laid himself on your side.

"You're so beautiful." You caress his cheek, not able to take your eyes off his face. A face that other people would call a monster. You stare at him in awe as his true form starts to fade, being replaced with his human side.

“Beautiful? You find this beautiful.?” He grins with his sharp teeth. You love when the real mischief takes over his lord persona. “And I am here, wondering why you're not having a heart attack. I tried to control my form to not come out but you feel oh so good.”

His finger runs down your body, that's covered and filled with liquids. You still want more, and Jongho can sense it.

“You are beautiful, no matter the form.” You insist, yet your voice sounds weak and shaky as his hand slides between your legs.

He captures your lips, teasing your tongue with his. He swallows your moans, as his hand massages your needy clit.

“You were truly made for me.” He whispers in your lips. “So unsatisfied, desperate for more… Do you want my fingers inside you, darling?”

“Yes…” You feel drunk. He makes you feel more intoxicated than any alcohol ever has.

“You want me to use my cum inside your precious little pussy as a lube and fuck you with my fingers, hm?”

You nod eagerly with no shame whatsoever.

“Say it, sweetness. Use your pretty voice and tell me what you want.”

“I want you… to fuck me… with your fingers, please.” You begged with a pathetic, high-pitched voice.

The confidence his digits slide into you steals the breath from your lungs. The squelching sounds immediately filled the room, disturbing the silence among your moans and the thunder. His fingers are restless as, thanks to his rich filling they go in and out of you like a knife in the most ripe fruit.

You arch your spine as Jongho curls them and his fingertips rub that sweet point that doubles the volume of your cries.

“Ah, yes, yes, right there!”

He uses the opportunity of your exposed neck, and he gently bites the soft skin, not enough to pierce through it, but enough to leave a trace.

“Fuck, (y/n).” He whispers, with a tone of praise. You reacting to everything he does to you, makes his chest swell with pride.

It encourages him.

As a vampire, his strength and never-ending stamina pushes you over the edge the next second after his hand starts racing up and down at a determined, overwhelming speed, playing your whole body like an instrument.

You come once, screaming against the thunder. Then again, but this time you make no sound. You can't, as the pleasure of a thousand suns cages the breath in your lungs.

With his lips glued to your throat, he groans at the way your body trembles as he forces his cum out of you.

“No, no… Jongo, wait… stop…”

He giggles as you push his hand away after his finger starts flicking your core again.

“I would’ve killed him much sooner if I knew it'd cause you to finally scream in pleasure underneath me.” He whispers, placing calming kisses on your marked neck as your hands are roaming all over his back.

You can only smile at his words, tired after the long awaited fulfillment. Seeing your state, Jongho carefully picks you up from the table. You feel him cover you with your robe he had ripped off you.

You don’t remember the trip to his chambers where he carried you in his arms. You don't know where you are until you feel warm water embracing your exhausted body. You open your eyes to see him gently wiping and massaging your skin.

"How delicate, Lord Choi." You give him a tired but content smile. "I clearly remember you saying you wouldn’t be gentle with me."

Jongho grins before saying, "Don't worry. This is only the beginning."

Every nerve in your body wakes up as he leans to your neck and places a gentle kiss.

“I need some time to shape you for me. I don't want to hurt you. Then, I swear there won't be any surface left in this house where I won't take you on, sweetness.”

Then his focus is back on cleaning your body, however the sinister spark never leaves his eyes. You know this night isn't over, wondering what the state the dawn will find you in.

Your eyes wander to the window in front of you. You see the lighting dancing in the distance but you don't hear any thunder accompanying it anymore.

The storm is over. You indulge in the peaceful darkness of the night.

I repost this one shot cause I wasn't satisfied with it. I couldn't even look at it anymore and I like the idea 🥲 Hope you like it! I added some new plot, too!

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mercy-misrule · 11 days ago

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mouthwashing spoilers, discussion of fictional sexual assault, fictional abuse of a disabled person, references to real life injury

This is a weird rambling thing, informed by my own experiences. I am a sexual assault survivor, but I am also a survivor of life threatening accident that left me entirely physically dependent on medical staff with a long recovery time. I am aware that this is not a pov a lot of people have, and it means I'm thinking about things a little differently.

If you haven't experienced the healing process from a life threatening injury, its hard to explain. But here are some thoughts.

So one of the things that I think is interesting about the fandom reaction to Curly is an odd thing I've seen. A fanwork thing where people write Curly as a victim of sexual assault by Jimmy where the result is that Curly is a more sympathetic victim, a 'real victim'.

This isn't all fiction exploring this, and this isn't stated in their texts, nevertheless, it's impossible to read otherwise.

And I get it, I get why people are exploring that as an option, as a concept. Maybe its revenge, maybe its more relatable, maybe it's simply because that's a fictional concept that they want to write. And that's a creator's prerogative. This isn't me criticising what people want to explore.

What bewilders me is that it makes me feel like people missed the hugely sexual implications of Jimmy's assault and continued violation of Curly's bodily autonomy. It's like, folks are you reading this right?

So Mouthwashing has textual sexual assault, it's right there, Anya is the victim of Jimmy's violence. He attempts to take away her life by crashing the ship, he attempts to remove any choice she has in what happens to her body after she reveals she is pregnant.

He does not care about her, it is pointed what a non-person she is in his eyes. He only cares about his reputation, his control over the situation, what people say about him. His job, his prospects, all of which are dependent on Curly.

And Mouthwashing has textual violation of a disabled person's bodily autonomy. Jimmy hurts Curly when forcing him to take his meds, beating him at one point, where in the end Curly is weeping.

A man who wants nothing but control, couldn't control Anya or Swansea or Daisuke despite his best(worst) efforts, but he has absolute control over everything with Curly. Curly is moved without his consent, touched without his consent, treated like an object, like food, tortured, and finally 'saved'...without his consent.

Without a voice other than cries of pain, or hissing laughter, Jimmy has the control he needs.

And look how his attitude changes towards Curly the more control he has over his body. When Anya is still around, he's swearing at him, beating him into needless submission. As the game progresses, Jimmy starts to hold Curly up as this object of salvation, as this vessel through which all of Jimmy's faults and guilt are washed away.

This focus, this obsession, the alternating between berating and violence and idolisation is subtextual in its sexuality. But it's there. Even when you move past the obvious mirror of violence of Jimmy standing over a helpless Curly in bed, hurting him, putting his hands on him.

We already know that Jimmy assaulted Anya while in her bed, she tells Curly this implicitly when she asks about the lack of locks on bedrooms.

What I find interesting about this all is that we do not see the violence Jimmy inflicted on Anya. We see the aftermath, we hear his words, and we see her reactions, but we do not see the act.

And its a very good and frank piece of storytelling, about the mundane horror of day-to-day life living with your abuser. We don't need to see the instigating act, the central piece of violence, because we are seeing everything else.

Whereas, this game is all about witnessing exactly the violence Jimmy inflicts on Curly, and contrasting it with the absolute indifference he has for Anya, his other victim. He fixates on Curly, he's got nothing in his head but Curly, and any other thought that tries to creep in, we watch turn into nightmares that he's desperate to run away from.

It's almost like watching Curly be brutalised is a stand in for the brutality that Anya experiences. Not as a revenge or anything, but as a story beat reminding you that this is happening, has happened, will happen again. Jimmy will always be hurting someone.

But what I think is fascinating is that there is this (I am not talking about shipping. This is not meta about shipping) almost romantic displacement of affection from Jimmy to Curly, shocking in its intensity to the same level of his disdain and apathy towards Anya.

It's a mirror of how Jimmy feels about himself. He views Anya as a failure, not competent, and that's how he is in reality. He puts all his failings on her, he lashes out at her, blames her for Curly's suffering, for his potential punishment.

He praises and berates Curly because he wants to be what Curly was. A respected captain, a person that people are happy to be around. But he berates Curly because Curly isn't what he views as his ideal self. Curly doesn't throw his weight around like Jimmy wants to, Curly is passive and a people pleaser. Jimmy doesn't respect him, even as he wants to be him. He doesn't respect Curly because of the the way Curly gives into him, supports him.

There are so many moments of desperate horror in this story but I keep being drawn back into the unending nightmare of Curly being dependant on people disintegrating around him

Anya withholds treatment, not maliciously, but she does, because it's too triggering for her. And then Jimmy steps in and it's always bad, even when he's not trying to make it so.

Curly lays there and sees the ramifications of his inaction, his cowardice and then is revictimised over and over, humiliated over and over.

The best chance of care he's got is a woman he fundamentally failed, harmed in unbelievable ways and is now being terrorised by the man who hurts them both and she keeps asking Jimmy to hurt him.

And he has to sit there as she does, as she eats the only things that are making his existence survivable, and he's responsible for it! He gets to watch the consequences of his inaction, he gets to lay there and watch a woman die and he doesn't get to do anything else except exist until Jimmy appears again , which is worst of all.

You don't get to pick your carers, at some point. Sometimes it's people you feel a burden too, or people you've hurt, in a hundred different ways. And sometimes it's people who've hurt you and still tell you how much you mean to them, how important you are to them, how much they love you. And they don't stop hurting you or other people and you. Cannot. Stop. Them.

#mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing

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callsigns-haze · 2 months ago

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His Shadow: Chp 8

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences

For the next few days, Azriel didn’t leave YN’s side. He sat vigil in the quiet room at the River House, his eyes constantly watching over her, his heart heavy with worry. Her chest rose and fell softly, her face pale but peaceful in sleep. Her once-strong frame seemed so fragile now, broken ribs bandaged beneath the blankets, a splint wrapped around her sprained wrist.

Madja had been diligent in her care, informing him of her injuries: a mild concussion that would keep her in a daze even after she woke, fractured ribs that would need time to heal, and a strained wrist from where she had fought off the men. But it was her voice—or the lack of it—that weighed on him the most. The brutal strangulation had damaged her vocal cords, and Madja warned him that when she finally did wake, it would take several days before she could speak again.

Azriel’s heart clenched at the thought of YN not being able to voice her pain or fear. The memory of her being strangled on the floor, fighting for her life while Knox remained hidden, haunted him endlessly. He’d seen so much in his long life, witnessed horrors and fought battles, but the sight of her so close to death shook him like nothing else ever had.

Madja had been kind enough to offer healing spells to speed her recovery, but Azriel insisted on being there for everything. Every time she adjusted the bandages on YN’s ribs, every time she checked her breathing or felt for swelling, Azriel stood close by, offering silent support.

On the third night, Madja stopped by with her usual clinical efficiency, though her expression was more sympathetic than usual. "Her body is recovering well," she told him softly, taking his stoic silence as permission to continue. "The concussion is minor, and the ribs, while painful, will heal with time. But her voice... it may take several days for her to speak again. The trauma to her throat was extensive. She’ll need time."

Azriel nodded, his jaw tight. He’d been expecting it, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and constant worry. He reached out to smooth a hand over YN’s hair, careful not to disturb the splint on her wrist. “I’ll be here when she wakes.”

Madja gave a small nod and left the room quietly, leaving him alone with her again.

Azriel looked down at YN, his chest tightening at the sight of her bruised throat, the faint purple marks still visible beneath the bandages. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to tell her she was safe now, that he would never let anything happen to her again. But for now, all he could do was wait.

Knox, who had been in the care of Feyre and Mor during these long days, was brought to visit often, and each time Azriel held him, it grounded him in a way nothing else could. Knox’s small, innocent presence was a reminder of why they fought so hard, why they endured so much.

In the dim light of the room, Azriel kept vigil, his shadows swirling around him in a protective haze as he watched over his mate and his son, determined to stay until YN opened her eyes again and could feel the safety of his presence once more.

---

Azriel sat in the corner of the room, Knox cradled in his arms, the baby squirming slightly as he rocked him. His expression was tense, jaw clenched, as he waited for Rhys and Cassian to speak. He already knew what was coming—the questions, the confusion. They’d finally figured out what he had kept from them all this time.

Rhys broke the silence first, his voice calm but direct. "We need to talk about YN."

Azriel didn’t look up. He kept his gaze on his son, knowing there was no more avoiding it. “What about her?”

Cassian leaned forward, frowning. “We know she’s got a deal with Kier. A bargain.”

Azriel’s grip tightened slightly on Knox, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

Cassian shot him a sharp look. “And you knew? How long?”

Azriel sighed. "A while."

Rhys crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t think to tell us? You’ve been hiding this from us the entire time?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” Azriel said coldly, meeting Rhys’s gaze now. "And it’s more complicated than you think."

Cassian scoffed. "Complicated how? She’s tied to Kier’s pleasure house. Why?"

Azriel shifted Knox in his arms, trying to stay calm. "It started when she was seventeen. Her best friend killed someone in self-defense. The Hewn City is split between the elite and the ones trying to survive. YN was part of the latter. Her family had nothing."

Rhys’s expression tightened. He remained silent, waiting for Azriel to continue.

"Kier stepped in," Azriel said, his voice clipped. "He gave them protection, kept them from being dragged into a trial or worse. But there was a price. He granted YN an education, helped her family. And when she came of age, he bound her to the pleasure house."

Cassian cursed under his breath, disgust clear on his face. “That bastard.”

Azriel nodded, his jaw tight. “She’s stuck. She doesn’t want to be there, but Kier holds the power. If I push too hard, he’ll make her life hell.”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, his expression hard. “And you’ve been dealing with this alone? Not telling us?”

Azriel’s tone was sharp. “I didn’t have a choice. If Kier knew I was involved, he’d use it against her. He’s waiting for an excuse to tighten his grip on her.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “We could’ve helped.”

“She didn’t want help,” Azriel said firmly. “She didn’t want to be seen as weak. And if you had known, Kier would’ve caught wind of it. He’s not stupid.”

Rhys crossed his arms, tension rolling off him. “So, what now? You’re just going to keep letting her work there while Kier pulls the strings?”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I’m working on it. But if I make a move, it has to be calculated. Otherwise, he’ll ruin everything.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing his temples. “We need a plan. Kier can’t keep his hold on her forever.”

Cassian’s voice was gruff but sympathetic. “We’ll figure this out. But next time, don’t shut us out, Az.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his focus returning to Knox as he rocked the baby slowly, his mind already churning with thoughts of how to protect them both.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, understanding the gravity of the situation, but knowing they had no choice but to trust Azriel’s instincts—for now.

---

The room was bathed in soft, dim light as YN slowly stirred, her eyelids fluttering. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the pain radiating from her ribs and the dull ache in her throat. Every breath was labored, shallow, as if the air itself was too thick to pull in. Her eyes finally opened, the world blurry for a moment before the room came into focus.

Azriel was there, sitting in the chair beside the bed, his dark eyes trained on her with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. He had been waiting for this, for her to open her eyes, for the confirmation that she was still with him. The second he saw movement, his breath hitched, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clenched together as if bracing himself.

“YN…” he whispered, voice cracking slightly, the relief in his tone palpable. He looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes and tension radiating from every muscle, but his expression softened the moment she focused on him.

She tried to speak, tried to form words, but nothing came out. Her throat felt raw, burning with the effort. Panic flashed in her eyes, her lips parting again, but all she managed was a faint rasp, her voice entirely gone.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, his hand gently cupping her face. “Shh, don’t try to talk. It’s okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. His touch was warm, grounding her in the moment, anchoring her as the panic began to subside. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m here.”

Her gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, a thousand emotions passed between them—fear, relief, sorrow, love. She lifted her hand slowly, the movement weak and shaky, and placed it over his. The gesture was small, but it said everything she couldn’t.

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he fought to hold back the flood of emotions. Seeing her like this—so fragile, so hurt—it tore at him in ways he couldn’t describe. He had been terrified, truly terrified that she wouldn’t wake up, that she’d slip away before he could even hold her again. Now, with her fingers weakly gripping his, it took every ounce of control not to break down right there.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, leaning closer, his forehead gently pressing against hers. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, but she couldn’t cry, not fully. The tightness in her throat, the pain in her chest, wouldn’t allow it. But the emotion was there, heavy and unspoken between them. She blinked, the tears slipping down her cheeks, and Azriel wiped them away gently, his thumb moving across her skin with the lightest of touches.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—Azriel’s forehead resting against hers, his fingers brushing her cheek, his other hand gripping hers tightly as if letting go would mean losing her all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were glassy, his voice softer. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” He tried for a smile, but it faltered. “Don’t ever do that again.”

She managed a faint nod, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. She wanted to tell him everything—that she was okay, that she didn’t blame him, that she was so damn grateful to have him there. But the words wouldn’t come, and all she could do was squeeze his hand in response.

Azriel’s eyes flickered to the bruises on her neck, and his expression darkened. He wanted to kill the men who had done this to her, wanted to rip them apart piece by piece. But right now, all that mattered was her—keeping her safe, keeping her close.

“Rest,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up again. I’m not going anywhere.”

He settled back into his chair, his hand never leaving hers, watching her as her eyes slowly fluttered shut again. Even in sleep, her face was tight with pain, her body too still, too fragile. Azriel watched her for a long time, every protective instinct roaring within him, and made a silent vow to never let anything like this happen again.

She had fought for her life, and now, it was his turn to fight for hers.

---

Two weeks had passed, and YN had begun to feel like herself again, at least physically. Her voice, once stolen by the brutal attack, had gradually returned—soft and weak at first, but stronger with each passing day. Azriel, however, had been relentless in his overprotectiveness. He had insisted that she remain in Velaris, far away from the dangers of the Hewn City, and had forced Madja to write an official medical letter to her employer, explaining that she was unfit for work for an extended period. He had even gone as far as delivering the letter himself, leaving no room for argument.

Now, YN sat on the balcony of their guest quarters in Velaris, the warmth of the afternoon sun bathing her in golden light. The balcony overlooked a peaceful garden, filled with vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze. She cradled Knox in her arms, the baby’s tiny body relaxed against her as she cooed and tickled him lightly under his chin. His sweet giggles filled the air, his small Illyrian wings fluttering ever so slightly in his excitement.

"Shh," she whispered with a soft smile, trying to soothe him back to sleep. “Come on, little one, it’s nap time.” Knox’s bright, curious eyes blinked up at her before slowly starting to droop, his body going limp as he fell into that peaceful baby slumber. YN continued to rock him gently, her fingers brushing through his dark hair, and she let out a contented sigh.

As she focused on the baby in her arms, she didn’t notice Azriel slipping quietly out onto the balcony behind her. His steps were silent, a skill he had perfected over centuries, and he took a moment to simply admire the scene before him. YN, looking healthier now, her hair loose and glowing in the sunlight, holding their son as if the entire world revolved around the tiny bundle in her arms. The sight filled his heart with a warmth he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

Without a word, Azriel stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into a warm, protective embrace. YN let out a small gasp of surprise before her body relaxed into his, the familiar weight and scent of him instantly soothing her. She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Didn’t hear you coming,” she whispered, her voice now smooth but still carrying a hint of the recovery she’d undergone.

“I didn’t want to disturb such a perfect moment,” he murmured against her ear, his breath warm on her skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. His hands slid down to rest over hers, cradling Knox together.

“He’s finally asleep,” YN said softly, her eyes drifting down to their son’s peaceful face. “You know, you’re going to spoil me with all this protection,” she teased, though there was no real heat in her words.

Azriel chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her back as he held her closer. “I’ll never stop protecting you. Or him.”

YN leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. “I know. I feel it every day.”

They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the soft rustling of the trees and the occasional cooing of Knox in his sleep. It was peaceful, something YN had rarely known before Velaris, before Azriel had come into her life.

After a few moments, Azriel gently kissed the top of her head and leaned down to whisper, “Rhys and Cassian are coming down soon. They want to talk to you.”

YN’s body tensed slightly in his arms, and she opened her eyes. “Talk to me?” she asked, her voice carrying a slight edge of concern.

Azriel sighed softly, pressing another kiss to her temple. “They’ve been worried. They know about your... connection to Kier and the pleasure house. They want to make sure you’re okay and figure out how we can... keep you safe.”

She let out a long breath, her grip on Knox tightening a little as she thought about the conversation to come. “I don’t like being a subject of discussion.”

“I know,” Azriel murmured, his hands rubbing soothing circles over her arms. “But they care about you. They just want to help.”

YN nodded slowly, her mind already racing with how much she should tell them. The last few weeks had been difficult enough without having to explain her past and the dangerous web of alliances that had kept her bound to the Hewn City for so long. But if anyone could help her break free, it would be Rhys and Cassian—Azriel’s family. Her family, too, in a way.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice steady. “I’ll talk to them.”

Azriel kissed her once more, lingering for a moment before stepping back. “Thank you,” he whispered, his gratitude evident in the way his voice softened. He reached down and brushed his thumb gently over Knox’s cheek, the baby stirring slightly but remaining asleep.

“We’ll figure it all out,” he promised, his hazel eyes filled with determination. "Together."

Rhys and Cassian approached YN with a heavy seriousness in their demeanor. The peaceful atmosphere of the balcony shifted as the weight of the conversation settled between them. Azriel stood by YN's side, his gaze locked on her face as he sensed her unease, but this was a necessary conversation. If they were to free her from the clutches of the pleasure house, this was the only way.

Rhys was the first to speak, his voice gentle yet firm. "YN, we’ve been discussing your situation with Kier and his... assistant. We know you’re bound by that bargain, and we’ve been working on a way to break it. But there’s only one option that we can see.”

Cassian leaned forward, his large frame looming slightly as he crossed his arms. “We’ve come up with a plan, but it’s not going to be easy. Kier’s assistant—the man who controls your bargain—is going to be the key. He’s one of your clients, correct?”

YN swallowed hard, already feeling a pit forming in her stomach. She nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around Knox, who slept peacefully in her arms. “Yes,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “He requests private sessions. He’s... powerful.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched beside her, his hands itching to destroy the man who held so much control over YN’s life. Rhys, sensing Azriel’s rising anger, continued in a calm, measured tone.

“We believe that the only way to break this bond is through him. If you can get close enough, distract him when he calls for you again, we can move in. Cassian and I will take care of his guards, and Azriel will handle him. But we need you to keep him occupied—long enough for us to get inside.”

YN felt her heart race, her palms growing sweaty as she tried to process the enormity of what they were asking. The thought of being alone with that man, knowing what was about to happen, made her stomach churn. Worse still, the prospect of murder, something she had been entangled with before, clawed at her mind. The memory of her friend’s desperate act of self-defense still haunted her, and now they were asking her to be part of something similar.

“You want me to distract him while you... kill him?” YN asked, her voice trembling slightly as the reality of the plan sank in.

Rhys nodded solemnly. “It’s the only way, YN. If he’s dead, the bond will be broken. You’ll be free.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hand resting gently on her back. He could feel her flinch at the word "kill," and it sent a pang of guilt through him. He hated that this was the only option they had, hated that YN would have to face this darkness again. But he also knew that they couldn’t keep living like this—constantly looking over their shoulders, bound by a deal that held her captive.

YN stared down at Knox, her mind swirling with a mixture of fear and hope. On one hand, this was her chance—her chance to be free from the pleasure house, from Kier’s cruel control, and to live a life with Azriel and Knox without constantly fearing for their safety. But on the other hand, the thought of being involved in another killing, even indirectly, was enough to make her chest tighten.

Cassian’s voice broke through her thoughts. “We’ll be there the whole time. You won’t be alone in this.”

Rhys knelt down beside her, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wish there was another way. But we’ll make sure you’re safe, YN. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Azriel knelt beside her, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had escaped. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “But this is the only way to end it.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry as she nodded, more to herself than to them. She had survived so much already—being bound to that awful place, the attack on her apartment, and the struggles of her past. If this was what it took to be free, then she would face it. She would do whatever it took for her son, for the life she wanted to build with Azriel.

But the weight of the decision settled heavily on her shoulders, and she knew this would not be an easy path.

“I’ll do it,” YN finally whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. “But... I’m scared.”

Azriel’s grip on her tightened, his forehead resting against hers for a moment. “I know,” he murmured. “But you’re strong, YN. You’re stronger than any of us.”

Rhys stood up, exchanging a glance with Cassian before looking back at YN. “We’ll make the arrangements. When he calls for you again, we’ll be ready.”

YN nodded, though her body felt like it was moving through quicksand. The thought of going back to that place, knowing what would happen, made her feel sick. But deep down, she knew there was no other choice. If she wanted freedom, if she wanted to protect Knox and Azriel from this life, she would have to face this head-on.

Azriel stayed beside her as Rhys and Cassian left to make their plans, his hand never leaving hers. He could feel her trembling slightly, and it broke his heart to know what she would have to go through. But they would get through this together—he would make sure of it.

“I love you,” Azriel whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he could never quite put into words.

“Me too,” YN replied, her voice steady but her heart racing.

And as she sat there, holding her sleeping son close, YN steeled herself for what was to come. This was her chance to be free—to finally break the chains that had bound her for so long. And no matter how much fear and uncertainty filled her, she knew she would face it for her family.

For Knox. For Azriel. For herself.

One more chapter and then MWAHAHAHAHHA YALL ARE GONNA HATE ME!

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #az

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neversetyoufree · 2 months ago

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Looking back, I wonder how much of Vanitas's choice in this scene is tied to the fact that he was given a choice in the first place.

So much of Vanitas's character is centered around the theme of self-determination (and the lack thereof). He is absolutely deprived of any control over his body and/or destiny at many of the key points in his life, and nowadays he's always desperately grasping at what few shards of self-determination he does have. This is why he freaks out when Roland talks about him being "under the vampires' power" in mémoire 15. It's why he's hung up on the idea of freedom as isolation from others' influence. It's why his main response to being triggered is to do something crazy and cause a scene; it puts him in control of the situation.

All that to say, when Luna destroys Moreau's lab and agrees to take Misha away, Vanitas must be desperate to feel some form of in-control, but I do not think he expects to be given any choice in what happens to him next. He's been conditioned not to expect that despite how much he wants it.

Vanitas certainly doesn't have much agency in how he lives his life as a child, as no kid gets to pick their parents or circumstances, and Vani has it especially rough with the death of his mother hanging over his head. Then his father dies protecting him, and he dies in a situation in which Vanitas is utterly powerless. Horror erupts into his life out of nowhere, and his dad throws himself in front of some fangs, and there's nothing Vanitas can do but watch it happen.

Next there's Vanitas's brief time training as a chasseur, which is one part of his history we know little about, so it's hard for me to say how free his choice was. He may have been pressured into joining, as we know the Chassuers aren't above pushy/manipulative recruitment of children (Astolfo), but I could also see his choice to hunt vampires made as a trauma response to the powerlessness of the vampire attack he survived. "I was powerless, so I'll claim the power to enact violence and make sure they can't hurt me or others again."

Then Vanitas is abducted by Doctor Moreau, which strips him of his agency just about as awfully as anything possibly could.

Vanitas the test subject has no bodily autonomy. He is poked and prodded and experimented on, because his body is an object of science to Moreau, not the vessel of a person with rights or self-determination. His only big active choices during his captivity are the choice to not run away for fear of somebody else suffering and the choice to volunteer in Mikhail's place. The only choices he can make are the choices to stay and throw himself even deeper into his own violation. Even his relationship with Misha is something that just kind of Happens to him. The kid is a force of nature that Moreau dumps on him without his say.

(This isn't Mikhail's fault, as Misha is just a child that wants affection, but having a needy, vulnerable little brother figure suddenly dropped on him in the midst of all that horror couldn't have made Vanitas feel less out of control).

Then Vanitas's torment by Moreau hits its climax, and Vanitas is told that not only has his body been violated by way of pain and torture—even his basic humanity has been and will be stripped from him. He now feels the disgust of having the blood of something he hates inside of him without his consent. And he's about to be killed, turned into a mindless husk of a "living key" instead of a person.

And that's when Luna shows up. This mysterious, incredibly powerful being appears and wreaks havoc on Moreau's lab like an avenging angel, and it agrees to Mikhail's request to take "us" along with it. Everything in Vanitas's life so far has taught him that he is powerless in the face of others' great power. Horrible shit just keeps happening to him forever, and this monstrous person sounds like they've just agreed to carry him off on Mikhail's request without a word of input from him. Of course he doesn't expect to be given a choice.

But he is.

Luna scoops up Mikhail, then they turn to Vanitas and ask if he would like to come along with them as well. After months or years of absolutely all of his autonomy and power being stripped away from him, the most powerful being Vanitas has ever encountered stops and gives him a choice about what he'd like to do next. They give him the option to go off on his own and decide his own fate rather than go along with them. And that's why Vanitas doesn't run away.

These are the images that flash through Vanitas's head right before he gets up and runs to Luna:

These moments are what inform Vanitas's choice. The memories of his father's death and Moreau's final experiment on him—his two most awful moments of abject helplessness.

When Vanitas runs to Luna and accepts their offer, these moments are what he's running from. He's fleeing from his inability to do anything or control his fate. He's running from a life of stolen agency. He's running toward the one adult who actually stopped and gave him a choice about what he'd like to do next.

Vanitas chooses Luna because they, despite having the power to kill or subdue him, give him the freedom to choose to accompany them in the first place. He's drawn to them not for protection, but as an escape to a life where he gets to keep making choices and grasp some agency.

Luna is the savior that gives Vanitas his freedom and autonomy back after it's stolen by Moreau. That's why it's so tragic that Vanitas carries their Mark in the present day. It's undeniable proof that, in their right mind or not, some version of Luna violated the fundamental trust and gift of autonomy that brought Vanitas into their family in the first place.

Luna's bite, both the physical violation and the transformation into inhumanity that it brings, is yet another way that Vanitas is stripped of all control of his body and fate.

#This also ties back into why I'm such a big Vanitas dies truther #better a death he chooses than an inhuman life that was forced on him #anyway. it's sad about the blue moon family hours #Luna was so very very good to him. right up until they weren't #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas my beloved #luna #the vampire of the blue moon #vanitas vnc #vanitas #ID in alt text #english major hours

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months ago

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Oh my god, asks are open! Hey how are you?? And what are your favourite König AUs' counterparts??

Asks are still closed, actually, I just used the opportunity to promote my Instagram. But...for my top Konig AUs, I have these ones! 1) Mafia Konig. Oh how I love this man. I honestly don't know much about Austrian criminal life, but I just know that this man is the perfect jaded ex-soldier who came out of service, saw how the system treats its veterans, and decided to seize power for himself. He is cool, strong - his awkwardness and inability to socialize casually is almost going unnoticed as he seeks retired soldiers to make up his crime group, getting control over drug and weapons market. With his connections in all of Central Europe and slowly creeping onto the Eastern part and illegal gun and oil deals, the only thing he is lacking is a pretty girl on his lap, making him feel good. He doesn't like escorts, often leaving bad taste in his mouth - but he sees you, a pretty girl working in a cafe that he owns, in a flower shop that is just a front for his business, in some shabby tourist establishment made to get tourists on cheaply produced drugs...you're innocent, you have no idea about the dangers around you - but don't worry, he is cynical for both of you. 2) Loser!Konig Seeing this big guy with a big title and money and even a house being a complete loser for you is...something. He is dangerous, of course, always getting borderline or straight-up obsessive, so down and for you it's horrible - but the again, he is the only guy to ever love you like this...so, why not give him a chance? Yes, he will hunt you down and out you on his basement by the end of the week because he has no idea what the hell courting is but, then again, he would also give you some interesting lecture about lego and war history.

3) Monster!Konig Obviously, having this giant eldritch horror dude so down bad for you is exciting to write! This version of Konig is mainly a tsundere type, he is acting cold because monsters value power and he doesn't want to seem too soft with his little pet wife - but don't worry, he is soft and warm behind the closed doors, always allowing you to have something nice for yourself. This version of him tights with oviposition, obviously. He is using your fertile, lush body to carry his eggs - so be prepared for all the exciting thing about pregnancy, but over and over again, with Konig cooing over you as he finally mates you for hours on end... 4) Dilf!Konig This bastard uses his kid to maintain contact with you, and he is not even ashamed! It's honestly horrible( he doesn't like to talk to his kid, so he took you in as either willing or a kidnapped nanny, and then proceeded to breed another child into you just because this guy has a major breeding kink, but can't take care of children( He will pay for everything, at least, even hiring some help to make everything a bit easier for you - but god, he starts to like his kids only when you're playing with them...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #monster!konig #mafia!konig

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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May I please request a fic where Spencer finds out about the new female team member’s love for gaming by seeing her play her Nintendo Switch on the jet? Bonus if he sees her struggling to beat something like Five Nights At Freddy’s or Catherine Full Body and he helps her out much to her shock

A/N: Thanks for requesting! I'm not much of a gamer myself, so it took a while to figure out what I should write. I went with FNAF because I’ve literally been held hostage by that Josh Hutcherson Whistle tiktok for the last seven days, so I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: mild spoilers for FNAF 4 Night 8, fluff.

“What is that?” Spencer asked casually, glancing over at the screen from his seat on the jet.

For some reason, despite facing monsters in real life, you'd been addicted to horror games in your downtime. Apparently, it was better for you if the crazy murderers were actually sentient animatronics possessed by the ghost of murdered children.

“It's a Nintendo Switch. It's a video game.” You replied without looking at him, heart racing from the pressure of the level.

“Like pacman?”

“Yes, Spencer, like pacman.” You sighed in frustration, trying to avoid running into the animatronics running around the building your character was supposed to be guarding.

“Then why is the screen black,” he said, just as Mad Freddy snuck up on you in the game and you lost the level. You sighed, head falling back in defeat.

You'd been stuck on night 8 of FNAF 4 for at least a week now, but who could blame you? You had to play completely in the dark, and you were dealing with some of the worst animatronics, too.

You'd been so happy to discover 20202020 mode, and you'd passed night 7 easy enough and they were honestly pretty similar, but one week into consistently playing it in all of your downtime, and you were seconds away from sacrificing your switch to the animatronic gods.

“It's supposed to make it more challenging. I think it's just impossible.” You threw the switch down, making sure all your progress (or lack of it) was saved.

“Can I try?” Spencer curiously asked from beside you, smiling at the soft pout on your face.

“Are you sure? It's not exactly your style…?”

“Humor me.”

You passed him the switch, showed him the controls, and snuggled back against your seat, eager to catch some sleep now suddenly. You had just closed a long case, and you may as well try to sleep now before the pile of paperwork made that impossible.

If it was easy to fall asleep, it was impossible to drag yourself from sleep.

You'd felt the familiar movements of the jet jostle you side to side, but you also felt a warmth next to your body that was too comfortable to convince you to even crack an eye open.

After a week on the case, plus a week trying to solve the game level, you really hadn't slept soundly in some time.

So when someone shook your shoulders, you simply ignored the motion again and cuddled closer to the arm and chest you'd wrapped yourself around.

Until you realised that the arm and chest had to belong to a person. And the only person that could be was Spencer Reid.

“It's okay, I'll wake her up, you guys go ahead.” You heard him say, with a few muffled voices agreeing.

You decided to just play dead as you heard the shuffling sounds of the rest of the team climbing off the jet. At which point you just happened to stretch yourself naturally out of your peaceful sleep.

“Spencer?” You yawned, trying to sound confused. “Did we arrive?”

You disentangled yourself from his body, realising that in facing him, your faces had hovered centimetres apart from one another. His breathing was calm, but you could feel his heart beating hard as you pulled away from him, mind racing at the not so innocent touches he traced down your skin as he let you go.

“Yeah, the team got off already. We should probably head out, too, before the cabin crew comes through to reset.”

You stood yourself up and grabbed your things, including your switch, now packed carefully into its carry case.

“So, you gave up as well, huh?” You laughed at the obvious sign of Spencer's white flag.

“What do you mean?” He said, grabbing his own bags now he was free from your grasp.

“The game? It was hard, right?” You smiled at him as he collected himself and turned back to you, pausing slightly.

“I finished the game.”

“What?” You whirled around on him, voice breaking through your lips before you could control it.

“I finished the game. I was just watching the credits when you… made yourself comfortable.”

You felt embarrassment spread through your body but pushed it down to make space for the sheer disbelief that known technophobe Spencer Reid had completed the video game you'd been struggling with for the past week.

“How?” was the only word that would leave your mouth as you froze in the aisle.

“There was a pattern to it. I realised if I went between the left door, the bed, and the right door, the fox thing-”

“Nightmare Foxy.”

“Right, Nightmare Foxy wouldn't come out of the closet. And then the others wouldn't pop up until 4am, and after that, it was pretty easy to get through.”

“Oh my god.” You stood in awe, blocking the aisle and forcing Spencer to stop next to you as well.

“You have to show me how. Please, Spencer, I need to see it.”

You hadn't realised your hand had crept up to grab his sleeve, pushing closer to him slightly.

“Are you free this weekend?” He whispered back at you as you realised that the space between you was miniscule. You could only nod your confirmation enthusiastically.

“Then it's a date.” He whispered again, pushing past you and letting himself off the jet.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #fnaf

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m-ayo-o · 1 year ago

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seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself.

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him.

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi.

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money.

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use.

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it.

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive.

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck.

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness.

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–”

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman.

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body.

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more.

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time.

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile.

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.”

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken.

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting.

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes.

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least.

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet.

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing.

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms.

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking.

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy.

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs.

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?”

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands.

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags.

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic.

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move.

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—”

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.”

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him.

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit.

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness.

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation.

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty.

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine.

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #tw: murder #tw: violent death #tw: violence #tw: sex work #tw: inc*st #tw: drugs #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: sex #tw: sex mention

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cinnamonest · 6 months ago

Note

how do you think goro would feel about a childhood friend!darling?

Goro Akechi has a lot of hate in that heart of his, but other than the man he hates more than anything, there are two other things he hates the most: lack of control, and vulnerability.

He needs control over situations, over people, and when he can manage it, over the course of fate itself. The Metaverse and years of hard effort into a public persona he wears so flawlessly have granted him the sort of control he desires, for the most part.

He hates to be vulnerable, hates his own weaknesses, hates them being perceived by others.

You present both.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Really, up until the point you saw his name on screen one day, you admittedly remembered him as ‘that sad boy at school I was nice to when we were little,’ and your memories of him had all but faded into the background of your life, never thinking of him much after that until he pops back into your life.

At first, you think it can’t be the same person, surely. At least until the familiar — albeit aged a bit older than in your memories — face comes on the screen. It feels quite surreal. A drastic shift from the little boy you remember angrily sulking on the playground all by himself away from the other kids, whom you admittedly talked to mostly out of pity. Still, you felt like you bonded in the end, before he got whisked away when the relatives fostering him decided to dump him off onto someone else, thus forcing him to transfer schools.

You’re happy for him. He looks very happy now, you think, his situation must have improved. He’s even living in the city now apparently, just like you.

The positive coincidences stack atop each other when you actually get to see him.

Completely by chance, not seeking him out or anything, you just so happen to be walking home on an uncrowded street, and he just so happened to be coming back from a hit, now as normalized and mundane to him as any other work-related task — and you just so happen to meet right as you each turn a corner, perfectly scenic, as if ordained by fate.

And while Goro Akechi has spent a very long time by now perfecting the art of composure, what he sees takes him so far aback that even he lets the mask momentarily slip — completely freezing up, slack-jawed and stiff with shock and disbelief. There’s a moment where only silence passes, he looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost, an expression almost like horror managing to escape his automatic efforts to keep a straight face.

You don’t notice that part. You’re too caught up in the surprise and elation, gasping and smiling and rambling on about what a coincidence it is, and—

Do you remember me…?

The shock only lasts a split second. The composure is back, the mask pushed back into place, and with practiced mastery of charm, he bounces back near instantly.

Even in spite of the sudden onslaught of emotions and memories that feels like his very soul is being stabbed at, he manages to keep up the usual Prince-Charming act of his. Says the lines expected of him, so standard you could probably guess them before they come out of his mouth — wow, long time no see, what a coincidence, it’s good to see you, how have you been, all the generic phrases and lines one should say, just like the ones you provide in return. A back-and-forth dialogue predetermined by conventions and standards of normalcy and expectation as composed by a given social framework in which all humans live. You do mention that you’ve seen him on TV — for some reason, it makes his stomach feel like its twisting, but he gives you a humble-sounding reply all the same.

All as his heart pounds so heavily it feels like it’s going to burst though is chest. Adrenaline surges thought his veins and every nerve on his body feels like it’s frozen over, an ice-cold chill that runs through his blood, a ringing in his ears, even a lightheadedness that begins to take hold, his entire body reacting in shock and panic.

You fetch a piece of paper from your bag, scribble something down, hand it over to him — his own hand moves reflexively, as if out of his control, to take it. A series of numbers — oh. Your contact. You’re smiling now, saying something about how you would love to catch up sometime. Your voice sounds far away, his head feels like it’s spinning, but he still manages his signature soft smile and voice as he gives you yet another generic reply.

Sure, that would be wonderful.

A few more lines back-and-forth that he doesn’t even remember by the end of the day, his brain essentially giving replies on an auto-pilot means of conversation. He manages to make some excuse about work, churns out a farewell, briskly walks off with a noticeably deliberate fast pace.

You feel a little embarrassed, as you walk home. He seemed in a hurry to end the conversation. Perhaps it was presumptuous to give him a contact. He probably couldn’t care less. He’s a big, important person now, someone like that has no time for someone like yourself.

…

Your suspicions are more or less validated. He doesn’t contact you.

In fact, from the moment he gets home that day, he tries to forget the interaction entirely.

There’s multiple reasons why. For one, you present a potential obstacle, a burden, a risk. He can’t afford to have you complicating things, getting in his way. It takes some time for his heart to stop racing, and that alone irritates him — why do you get to have such a reaction from him, beyond his control?

Moreover, the emotions that hit him when he saw you were too much. Dangerously intense, something he can’t allow to weigh on him, doesn’t have the time to focus on.

To be frank, those emotions were largely negative anyway. The mere sight of your face stirs up all sorts of memories from that era of his life, most of which were deeply unpleasant. There’s a deep-rooted bitterness that rises up in his stomach, old emotions he’s worked so long to suppress, and you came and dug them up in just a few brief minutes. In truth, he thought about you very often back then — he never really got to say goodbye to you (even if, he often bitterly thought, you never cared that much about him anyway), and he had to force himself to forget you over time, and yet you’ve come and undone his efforts.

And finally — the thought of you makes him feel a new emotion, one he does not like. Something like anxiousness, fear, and in turn, anger at himself and you alike for inducing such a feeling. You stand as a sort of weakness, a single unstable factor in a world where he feels like he has some degree of a grasp of control on nearly everything — you feel uncertain, unsteady, out of his reach… no, it’s not just that. You feel unsafe. You have knowledge and memories of him that no one else does, you have seen him at his weakest, and that makes him feel far more vulnerable then he can stand.

And yet, he saves your number to his phone all the same. Lets it sit there.

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore. He is a busy person, he can keep himself distracted. Sometimes, though, in the odd hours of the night when his emotions are at their peak, he types a message, two, a dozen, he loses count — only to shake his head and come to his senses, huffing in frustration and holding the backspace down until it’s all deleted, cursing himself internally for even coming close to doing something so foolish.

You keep coming up in his thoughts, an emotion he can’t pretend is anything but yearning feels like a knot in his chest, yet the very thought of you makes him feel sick to his stomach. The conflict between the emotions is unbearable, makes him lose sleep, makes him lose focus.

You who knew him when he was this quiet, sullen, embittered child — you were nice to him, one of the only people who showed him genuine kindness back then — you who certainly knows that the charming act in front of the cameras is merely that, an act, a mask, a lie. It feels as if playing a game with one’s own cards facing outwards towards the opponent, completely exposed, laid bare. The act can’t work on you when you know what he’s really like, know his pains and vulnerabilities, have the potential to strike at the weakest parts of him.

Nor do you fall under his realm of control. The means he has for control relies on his ability to enforce it — means to kill and ruin lives. What he wants from you, though — at least, what he wanted from you back then, he won’t let himself even consider the matter now — falls entirely out of the realm of how he likes to control people, the usual purpose for which he desires the manipulation of others — power, advancement in his goals, to snake his way inside to strike.

It's all confusing. Irritating. It's outside the realm of what he has an easy way to manipulate, and that means he's at a disadvantage, that you have an upper hand, and he can't stand for that.

Still, he wonders about you. Every time a camera faces his way, he wonders if you’ll see the filming. When he makes posts to the little page he runs that the fans eat up, he wonders if you visit it too, if you’re one of those thousands of faceless followers. He wonders how often you think about him. He wonders about the day the two of you ran into each other for the first time in so long — did you go home, and look him up online? How long did you spend doing so? What did you read? Did your view of him change, positively, negatively?

And of course, he thinks about you and your life. What have you been up to, since then? Where has your path in life taken you? You probably have friends. You probably have a partner too. You’re someone who always seemed to be loved by others — he still recalls perfectly the burning bitterness in his stomach when he saw your happiness, your family, your friends, the things you had that he did not. How he resented you for it — he still does, even if he tries to tell himself such emotions are childish. Sometimes he almost thinks he hates you, even if in the end he always finds that he can’t.

And worst of all, he finds that the mere thought of you changes how he behaves.

When he’s at a lower-end news outlet interview, he doesn’t put quite as much energy in… until it occurs to him that there’s always a chance you’ll see it, and he finds himself sitting up straighter, putting in more effort into being charming and witty for the camera.

He almost says something in another interview, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know how you feel on the matter, and he finds himself taking what was originally a strongly-worded response in his head and neutralizing it as much as possible, to avoid upsetting you should you see it and disagree with him. He doesn't even realize it until the words are out of his mouth.

You do that to him. He who has come to think of himself as so far above others, and yet you — some child from long ago who just so happened to find him again and speak to him for no more than a few minutes — influence his actions, you consume his thoughts. You control him, and you don’t even know it, nor did you have any intention to. And even though he recognizes it, even though he tries to put it to rest and forget you entirely, he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t tap the screen to delete the contact.

It’s infuriating. He can’t stand it. The fact that you do what you do to him so effortlessly leaves him seething and stewing in a rage you probably don’t even realize he’s capable of. And that much he’s acutely aware of as well. You know more of the “real” him than anyone else, you saw him in a phase when he was always pouty and melancholic — yet even then, you don’t know the half of it, don’t realize just how much malice and fury rests beneath the calm outward surface, nor how deep it runs.

He’s not a delusional sort, he’s very self-aware, and he knows how ridiculous the thoughts he’s having are — yet he has them anyway. It’s what, three in the morning, and here he is sitting on the edge of is bed, hunched over in the dark with his face in his hands, stewing in bitterness because he just can’t stop thinking about you. Yes, he knows the thought is absurd, yet he allows it anyway — allows himself to blame you, to resent you for it as if it were an intentional act on your end, to think of you as audacious, having committed some grand transgression against him.

He’s a celebrity, a genius, he has powers unfathomable to the average person — and here you are, you’re nobody, making him think about you. The more he gives in and allows himself to slip into that way of thinking, regardless of how nonsensical he knows it is, the angrier and angrier he gets, the greater the malice that swells in his chest—

—and the darker his thoughts become on what to do with you.

If he forces himself to think it through reasonably, of course, he realizes that you’ve done nothing wrong, that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him even feels guilty for any unwholesome, sinister thoughts run through his head — you don’t deserve anything bad to happen to you, and he’s being embarrassingly childish for such boorish, overly-simplistic thoughts like keeping you and taking you away and hurting you and making you pay. Particularly the last — you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve any harm, and in the rational part of his mind, he knows this.

But if he were to allow those petulant feelings to take over…

If he let the irrational resentment and yearning and attachment and bitterness take over, if he stopped being rational about it, if he just acted on impulses and feelings alone, then he would have something to make you pay for. To make you the object of all the negative emotions that plague him, make you an outlet for his crippling desperation and rage and affection and covet and pain and misery and yearning — yes, he could put all those emotions into you, unload that burden and force you to take it off his shoulders, force you to be something for him to have to himself and use for his own desires and ease of his pain like he always wanted back then.

Maybe he never stopped wanting that, even if he forced every thought of you to the back of his mind for so many years. It was easier to deny the yearning when he could tell himself he would never see you again. He doesn't have that to hold him back anymore — he stares at the screen of his phone that burns his eyes in the darkness, knowing contact with you is a few mere taps away.

But even back then, he wasn’t so stupid as to not realize you interacted with him because he was pitiful and pathetic and obviously troubled and you were the sort of sweet person that went out of your way to be nice to such other children. He was acutely aware of that fact, it irritated him then, it irritates him now. Yet he latched on like a leech anyway, a fact that makes his face feel hot with embarrassment when he recalls how his child self clung to you so strongly, so pathetically. He couldn’t help it. He was so weak, back then.

But here he is, spending hours of his time thinking about you — can he really say he’s less weak to you now?

It’s not as if it’s the first time he had dark thoughts regarding you. Of course, he envied your life back then, but far more than that, he envied you. To have you to himself, as if an object from which he derived happiness that should be just for him. How upset he was when you were kind to people who weren’t him, spent time with others. Even back then, as a child, you have no idea the sort of things he crafted in his head, elaborate fantasies where everyone important to you died off somehow so he could have you all to himself. Fantasies that soothed both his bitterness for you and his desire for you — let you feel pain like he had felt, make sure you couldn’t think yourself better than him, while still ending up something all for him alone to have and enjoy for himself, ensure your kindness was just for him.

Only back then, he had no power to act on such fantasies.

Now…

…

...And one night, his resistance finally breaks.

You know what? Maybe he does deserve that. After all the effort he’s put in, after all the things he’s endured, maybe he does deserve to have something all for himself, something he truly wants, something he can secure and know with certainty won’t ever leave his side — you can’t if you don’t have the option.

Maybe you’ll hate him for it. Maybe he’d deserve it if so. But if you do, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

His fingers move without having to really think much about it. Generic, typical lines, just like when he spoke with you. Apologizing for the delay, but surely you understand he’s busy and all, so on and so on. He only pays attention to the very last line, as his fingers slow down in their typing with nerves and anticipation.

>Would you still be up for getting together sometime?

#can you tell i enjoyed this lol #but yeahhh i feel like goro is incapable of NOT harboring some degree of negative emotions for a beloved because thats just. who he is #he loves you but he cannot express that to save his life and has so much negativity pent up #so he just makes you an outlet for every emotion he feels which is. not good #.persona

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 5: Duel of Fates – A Perilous Encounter in the Darkened Hall

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„How did you already catch my name?”, he purrs at you with his sickening low voice.

You can’t deny the fact that you found him pretty hot in the manga and anime. But back then, he wasn’t more than a 2D character. Seeing that death machine standing right in front of you with his piercing appearance and 6’2” lingering over you like an unpromising shadow is completely different.

“Your reputation precedes you”, you press out while freeing your shivering body out of his grasp.

Fuck, you can literally feel your heart dropping to the floor. This is bad, even worse than being next to Gojo’s side. Does that man kill as he pleases in this world as well, is he on his way to end Gojo? Your eyes widen in sheer horror while your thoughts spin around you like a carousel out of control.

“May I ask for your name?”

“My name? What do you want to do with my name?”, you reply in an instant.

He tilts his head to the side, his low laughter forcing your whole body to shiver in nothing but fright.

“You’re acting as if I’m here to kidnap you. I saved you from falling over, is your name too much for ask for?”

“(y/n) Zenin”, you mumble under your breath.

Thank god for those glittery gloves Gojo forced you to wear. Without them, your hands would be covered in cold sweat by now. You need to get a hold on yourself, tame down your screaming heart. Toji won’t attack you at a random ball in a hallway, right?

“A Zenin, huh? I feel sorry for you.”

What? You furrow your eyebrows at him. What the hell is this guy talking about?

Oh.

You’re such an idiot.

“Must be nice that they kicked you out of that cursed family”, you comment dryly before you’re able to stop yourself.

Screw your loose mouth and the urge to always voice your thoughts. This was probably the dumbest move you could have made. In the manga, only a handful of people know about Toji and that he was in fact a part of the Zenin clan until they decided to kick him out because he lacked of cursed energy. Out of all people, you shouldn’t be the one who knows about this, you shouldn’t be the one to meet him in an empty hallway in the first place.

“I should get-“

“You’re not going anywhere, Lady (y/n). Just as I expected when I first saw you here, you aren’t an ordinary girl that chases after the prince. Your father forces you into this, huh? Tells you that he’ll kill you if you don’t marry that guy.”

He grabs your wrist with almost no pressure.

“This has to be a family thing”, you mumble to yourself until his cold glare meets yours.

“I swore to myself to wipe out the entire Zenin family after what they did to me, after what they forced me to do”, he mutters.

All color drains from your face as your glossy eyes stare at him. What are you supposed to do? Scream, run, cry for help? Your body refuses to move a single inch, his orbs keeping you in place.

“I won’t be a Zenin anymore after marrying Prince Gojo”, you breathe out.

“Too bad I can’t stand that brat on the throne either.”

You swallow down the knot that builds up inside of your throat. Don’t panic, you need to focus and choose your words wisely. But…how are you supposed to stay focused when that sickening force of a man grabbed your wrist and pierces through your mind with his stone-cold orbs?

“Too bad indeed. I’m in that game just like you are”, you press out as his grasp tightens.

Oh, you are so dead before your life even began, killed by your own “cousin”. Why did you never even think about the possibility that Toji might show up here as well? If he’s coming for Gojo just like he did in the manga, if he really dares to lay hands on Geto and Gojo…Why wouldn’t he kill an insignificant side character? You weren’t even a part of the Jujutsu Kaisen verse in the first place.

So that’s it? You, dying through the hands of Toji Fushiguro?

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How delightful to see you here, lurking in the shadows like a true gentleman. I must say, your timing is impeccable as always. But for now, may I ask you to take your hands off my fiancé, Sir?”

A wave of relief washes over you when you catch a glimpse of those iconic bright blue eyes emerging from the darkness next to you.

“I humbly beg your pardon, but apparently I forgot your name, Sir. You know, I’m not apt at recalling the names of gentlemen these days”, Toji replies with a satisfied grin.

“It’s Prince Satoru for you. Who am I speaking to?”, Gojo replies coldly.

With a swift motion he’s standing right by your side, releasing you from the threatening grip of Toji’s hand around your wrist.

That was a close call. Way too close for your liking. If it wasn’t for Gojo to come around at just the right time, that guy would have folded you immediately.

“Sir Toji, Your Highness. Now excuse me, even though it was a pleasure to meet you, I have to return to my other responsibilities. I hope we meet each other again soon, Lady (y/n).”

You don’t even dare to answer, avoiding his gaze like the plague as he disappears into darkness again. A nauseous flood of fear gets a hold of your heart. Out of instinct, you hold onto Gojo’s sleeves tightly while the hallway gets filled with the haunting sound of your heavy and uneven breathing.

This is it, the closest you’ve been to dying again after getting reincarnated into this world – after no more than maybe 48 hours. Your heart feels like exploding any given minute, ears ringing so violently that you fail to understand a single word Gojo tries to tell you. Is this really how your life will come to an end all over again? After all, everyone in Jujutsu Kaisen seems to die. And you’re nothing but a little side character in this story, someone who wasn’t even meant to exist in the first place.

“Lady (y/n), what has gotten into you?”, Satoru repeats over and over again while grabbing your shoulders in order to keep you from falling.

That naked fright glittering in your orbs he knows oh too well, the haunted expression that is written on your face. What did that man say to you before he arrived here? He should have never let you out of sight in the first place, not when there are so many people around who want to see him dead.

“Find us a private room, Suguru. I need to calm her down before returning.”

“Of course.”

Like in trance, you allow Gojo to pick you up and carry you down the hallway, your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his fine suit in a way that doesn’t allow you to let go ever again.

There’s no doubt in the fact that your life will end if you meet Toji like this again. Who else did you forgot, who else do you need to look out for? Is this really how it has to be now? Living your new-found life in constant fear, surrounded by nothing but people who want to see you dead? Apparently, not even marrying the prince of this goddamn kingdom is enough to find peace.

“(y/n), look at me.”

What if you get poisoned or choked in your sleep?

“(y/n), I need you to focus on me.”

Or worse, what if they torture you in order to gain any information about your soon-to-be-fiancé?

“(y/n), come back to me.”

He grabs your face with both hands and comes so close that you can’t escape his stinging bright blue eyes. Suddenly everything turns silent for a brief moment, leaving only you, Gojo and your racing heart behind.

“I don’t know what or who haunted you like this, but you are alright. You are save with me, do you understand?”

“You’re a fool if you think you can protect me.”

“Who if not me? Isn’t that why you chose me as your fiancé and begged me to take you back?”

“Begging you to take me back!?”

You spring back onto your feet faster than Gojo is able to regret his poor choice of words, orbs shooting pure venom his way.

“I begged in no way for you to take me back. We have a contract, right? We are trading partners”, you clarify sharply.

“Trading partners, right”, Gojo mumbles.

“But still, I’ll watch over you. It’s my responsibility to-“

“You can’t protect me from this world”, you interrupt him, shaking your head vehemently.

“This world is my world and I know it all too well. Give me a little bit of your trust, you won’t regret it.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t even trust you over your vows and all those beautiful disgusting words you’ll say later on, about how much you adore me and that I’m the only one for you”, you bark back at him.

You’re being ridiculous and you know it, nothing but the purest frustration catching up with you.

This is unfair, almost too much to bear. You never asked for any of this, never dreamed about being on this man’s side or getting to wear those pretty dresses, you never wanted to be a princess.

“In this world, you’ll be my only. And I’ll make sure everyone in this way too glamorous room will have no doubt in my deep feelings for you. I’ll make sure that no harm ever reaches you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Prince Gojo”, you bite back.

When he leans closer, your breath gets stuck in your throat all over again. What a mess of feelings and words, what a pile of chaos you maneuvered yourself into. Is this really worth the potential freedom you’ll gain afterwards? There’s no guarantee that your plan works out. What if you get killed before that? What if Gojo changes his mind?

The feeling of his warm hand resting on your shoulder rips you out of your train of thoughts.

“Hands off”, you bark at him while slapping his hand away.

“"I’m not one of your mistresses, and you’ve got more than enough to keep you busy already, don’t you think?"

But instead of having the decency to at least look shocked or caught, Gojo smirks at you the way he always did with his hands raising in mock surrender.

"Come on now, don’t believe everything you hear. Besides, I’ve got high standards—can’t be wasting my time on just anyone," he replies with a wink.

“Prince Satoru, Lady (y/n), guests start to wonder where you went. I’d kindly advise you to return to the ball and end what you started”, Suguru’s voice suddenly bites through the thick tension between both of you.

Fuck, you got way too close. You distract your shaky fingers by hectically straighten your already perfect-sitting dress while avoiding Gojo’s gaze at all cost.

“You are more than right. Let us get this over with”, you mumble before storming out of the room.

Suguru raises an eyebrow as he watches you leave in a hurry, then turns to Gojo with his head tilted to the side.

“What was that about? I have never seen you struggle so hard to keep your hands to yourself, Prince Gojo”

Gojo chuckles, running a hand through his hair with his gaze still glued to the door you stormed through.

“Oh, come on, Suguru. She's not like the others, way more… unpredictable.”

Suguru scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You? Interested in someone who doesn’t throw themselves at you? That’s new.”

Gojo’s grin widens, his gaze still lingering where you disappeared.

“Exactly. Makes it more fun, don’t you think? Now, let me propose to her.”

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren

@sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls @hellkaiserinphoenix @skylarlyn823

@livmarauder @nothisispatrick300 @haileycannotcometothephonern @xstom @byakuya61085

@arehzhera @ttysmfwna @miizuzu @erensfavve @rubyninja1

@luvsymai

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leascorner · 1 year ago

Text

j.b.b. | Bullet

Summary: Before he could comprehend what was really happening, he noticed the red liquid dripping through her fingers. Shock transformed into horror as they both realized that blood was literally flowing out of her body. Nobody needed to be a doctor to know the bullet had most likely struck through a major artery and that she would be dead in a matter of minutes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!f!reader

Warnings: Major angst, description of wounds and mention of blood, mention of violence, mention of guns, probably inexact medical facts, deaths, mention of trauma/PTSD.

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

Bucky jumped to his left, purposely moving away from the path of the bullet that was fired from afar. He heard it pass through the air, finally not too far from him and eventually entering in contact with flesh, piercing through the guts of the person behind him.

A quick look behind him made his blood run cold. Y/N was standing there, a look of pure shock on her face, a look that Bucky was now mirroring at the perfection. Her weapon was on the ground a few steps in front of her; it looked like her body had taken a few steps back under the impact. His eyes went from his position to the newly formed tiny hole in her belly that both of her hands reached out to cover immediately.

Before he could comprehend what was really happening, he noticed the red liquid dripping through her fingers. Shock transformed into horror as they both realized that blood was literally flowing out of her body. Nobody needed to be a doctor to know the bullet had most likely struck through a major artery and that she would be dead in a matter of minutes.

Lashing out the full ammunition of her gun on to the soldiers in front of them, Natasha wrapped her free arm around Y/N’s waist, supporting her before she collapsed on the floor. Steve was screaming in his earpiece, but Bucky couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

Covering for Natasha, Bucky also shot whatever was left of his ammunition in front of him while they moved to a cover place; he didn’t even look to make sure his shots were going in the right direction - and they probably were not. His eyes were on Y/N at all times.

As soon as he felt like no other bullet could hit them, Bucky dropped his gun and helped Natasha lean Y/N against the wall. His first reflex was to take his jacket off and press it hard against her wound. She hissed in pain, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Against his palms, the materials of his jacket had become sticky, absorbing all of the blood that was coming out of her body.

“Bucky”, her voice called him out.

Bucky’s eyes were still staring at her belly that was shaking with every pump of her heart. He couldn’t look at her face, not when he needed to focus on keeping her alive, just a little bit longer while Steve found a way to bring them a med jacket that would stop the bleeding in an instant or that Natasha finally found one in this fucking bag they were carrying for this mission.

“Love,” she reached to his cheek to have him turn and look at her. She grimaced at the blood that was now covering his cheekbone and beard.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Bucky shook his head no; tears falling down his cheeks without being able to control them. She looked so livid that for a moment he thought she was already dead. He would have liked to seem cool headed and yet, his own hands had becoming shaky, betraying his own fear. As she seemed to notice, she put one of her own very shaky hands above his, squeezing them ever so slightly from the lack of force.

He was losing her.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured him with a weak smile.

No, he wouldn’t be fine. He couldn’t be fine. He couldn’t live without her. She had brought so much joy and love to his life when he thought he was going to finish his days lonely, in a world he didn’t know anymore. She had only smiled at him, and he had fallen head over heel for her. In only a couple of years, she had brought him back to life. She made him: catch up on all the new music; watch all the episodes of that stupid medical TV show in which everybody ended up dying; discover all of the food possible - Sushi, Thai, Italian, Chinese, you name it; appreciate the Avenger’s gathering, their found family like she said. And she even made Tony’s horrible gala more bearable.

Yes, she had literally changed his life. Bucky was now realizing he had never really told her. How he owed her his life. And at this instant, while her breathing became even more difficult, he wanted to scream for someone - anyone - to help her. If only had he believed in God, he would have prayed for his mercy. He would even have given his life only for her to live.

“I love you,” she said, and Bucky had no time to answer her back.

She was dead.

Bucky sat up abruptly in his bed, eyes wet and hair stuck to his forehead by his sweat. It took him a minute to remember to breathe, but all he could do was gasp for air in between sobs. His chest was aching. Aching from the burn the lack of air did to his lungs. Aching from the heartbreak. Aching from the feeling of loss.

“Bucky?”

The mattress besides him shifted and one of the bedside lamps was switched on. Bucky’s eye fluttered open for a couple of seconds, trying to adjust to the sudden bright light. All his senses were in alert. He could hear the voice of the city in the background. He could feel the linen fabric against his skin. He could feel the warmth irradiating of him - it was much warmer than the outside of the warehouse, where he was only a couple of minutes ago. He could smell the magnolia fragrance Y/N always sprayed on their pillows before they went to bed.

It felt like home.

It was only then that he realized where he was. In the Avengers’ compound. In his room. In his bed.

“Oh, Bucky,” Y/N sighed.

Y/N, who was previously sleeping next to him, reached out, slowly, just like she had learned to do, as to not to startle him. By now, she had made acquaintance with his nightmares, though they came less and less as times had passed. Yet, the sight of him, tangled in the bed sheets, hair all other the place, crying, made her heart ache.

“I-” Bucky tried to explain, but words got stuck in his throat and another sob hit him abruptly. He knew that Y/N in front of him was very much alive, yet he also felt like a piece of her somewhere else wasn’t. And it broke his heart.

“Hey, hey,” she shushed him. “It’s okay.”

She took him in her arms, stroking his hair and rocking their bodies slowly in an attempt to calm him down. All while Bucky was holding on to her as if his life depending on it, crying on her shoulder, even wetting her pyjama top with his tears.

Although she had been woken up by way worse; like the nightmares where she had all the trouble in the world to bring him back to reality, or the ones she had to physically neutralize him to calm him down, she had to fight back her tears from seeing him in this state. Just like every other time, she would give everything she had just to be able to lighten his burden.

She held him until his breathing evened and even after, when he started slowly to fall asleep. She continued holding him even closer as she promised herself to continue to hold him until the end of times, if it means bringing him some well-deserved peace.

Months later, Bucky found himself with déjà-vu.

Walking first, closely followed by Y/N, he was escorting her to a warehouse in a port somewhere in eastern Europe. Natasha was a few feet behind, covering their backs. All until then had gone according to Steve’s plan. That, of course, was before a first bullet landed in the concrete wall behind him, only a few centimetres away from his face. Before he knew it, the three of them were under the fire of the militia guarding the warehouse.

Now, with a dozen of men in from of him and only his body to protect Y/N, Bucky realized why this situation felt so similar. It was exactly like one of his nightmares had started. The only one he had ever had about his girlfriend. The same one in which, in only a couple of seconds, a bullet would strike through her stomach, and he would watch her bleed to death. The same one that made him so afraid of falling asleep in fear of reliving it again that he went to Banner, so he could give him something - anything - to make him sleep and stop having nightmares.

There was irony in this, he thought; all those nightmares about his time in Hydra and he refused any medication, like he thought he had to endure all these memories. Yet, he dreamed of losing her one time, and he was begging to never live this again. He would never close his eyes again without taking his medications. And he promised himself he would do anything, everything, to protect her.

Guns were firing all around them and all they could do for now was lashing out their ammunition on them in return, praying that it would hit a few of them and leaving the three of them unarmed. Steve, waiting in the aircraft that had brought them here, was trying to get them air support all while telling them to try and find a way out in their earpieces. With the insurgents now on their tail and head, stuck in an alley between two warehouses, it was nearly an impossible mission. Oh, that he wished he had Sam’s wings now, or that his friend was here to grab her and get her the fuck out of here.

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his jacket to bring him backwards and Y/N’s arm appeared in front of his eyes to take down a man a couple of meters away that Bucky hadn’t seen before. She winked at him playfully as she turned from him to aim at another man on her left, totally unaware that she had just saved his life when he should have been the one saving her.

Only a minute later, he heard yet another bullet split through the air, the one that he knew was coming right in her direction. That time, he knew exactly how it would end. However, he had decided a long time ago that today was not the day his worst nightmare would come true.

Bucky did not hesitate a mere second. He moved to his left, purposely on the bullet’s path. The bullet struck him right in his gut and yet he didn’t feel a thing, only hearing the cry of horror that Y/N made when she saw his body take a few steps back under the impact.

A quick look behind him made his blood run cold. Y/N was standing there, eyes stuck on his belly, a look of pure shock on her face, a look that Bucky was mirroring at the perfection. He watched her weapon fall to the ground at the same time as both of her hands reached to catch him before he collapsed onto the floor.

One of his hands reached out to the new formed hole in his belly. He had no need to look at it; he knew the bullet had struck through a major artery and that probably more than two ounces of blood was leaving his body with every heartbeat. He would be dead in a matter of minutes.

His other hand grabbed her vest, holding on to it as if his life depended on it. Lashing the full ammunition of her gun on to the soldiers in front of them, Natasha wrapped her free arm around his waist, helping Y/N to support his weight. Steve was screaming in his earpiece, but Bucky couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own blood leaving his body. All he could do was stare at Y/N, trying to force into his memory this last sight of her as his breathing became unsteady.

“Stay with me,” Y/N commanded.

Bullets continued to be fired in their direction and Natasha was the only one with a gun now. Yet, they were able to retrace their steps and bring him to safety without being hurt by some kinds of miracle.

As soon as they sat Bucky against some wall, one of Y/N’s hands went on top of his, pressing hard on them. It made him winced, and it was the first time in the last couple of minutes that he felt any kind of pain. Her palm was quickly covered in his blood, yet she did not seem to react to it as her voice was still steady as she instructed him over and over again to “hold on”.

Bucky wanted to talk to her - tell her that she was going to be okay, she was the strongest person he knew after all - but her face was looking the other way. All he could see from his limited eyesight now was that the bag she was previously carrying was now at his feet and her other hand was deep in it, probably looking for the medical kit.

Feeling his last strength leaving him, Bucky focused to produce what he knew would be his last effort. He put one of his hands on top of the one Y/N was pressing against his belly and squeezed it ever so slightly. As he was fighting to keep his eyelids open, Y/N’s face finally turned to his. He saw her lips moving yet he didn’t understand what she was saying. He suddenly remembered her face, in his nightmare, as she was dying in front of him; he remembered the helplessness he had felt. He wished for Y/N not to feel the guilt, not to be angry at the world for taking him away from her – he had had a long life, a very happy one all the time he had been with her.

As his eyes started to close, Natasha quickly replaced Y/N’s hand with both of hers, trying to contain the bleeding for a little longer as Y/N was opening the med jacket she had finally found in the bag.

The last thing he heard was Y/N saying:

“Bucky, it’s going to hurt.”

His whole body felt like it was on fire, yet Bucky didn’t regret a thing. Sure, now that he was thinking of it from his hospital bed, it seemed like he could have only pushed Y/N out of the way, sparing them both the struggle of this situation. He hadn’t fully realized until after the bullet was deeply lodged inside of him, that the serum running through his veins wouldn’t prevent him from bleeding to death.

Steve, who had been there when Bucky woke up from the anaesthesia, had told him that Y/N hadn’t left his side one minute during the Aircraft ride, the surgery he had underwent to get the bullet out and stitch him up (of course, she wasn’t in the surgery room, but waited just outside) and waited in his hospital room for him to wake up.

With her arms wrapped around her legs so she was in some sort of foetal position, Y/N had finally felt asleep, exhausted. The small frown on her face and the shudder of her figure from time to time indicated that she wasn’t having the best sleep of her life, probably dreaming about the events of those last thirty-two hours.

From the dark circles under her eyes and the lack of colour on her cheeks, he could only imagine the fear he had inflicted on Y/N. Though his intent was to protect her in the first place, he had only caused her more ache.

For this, he would never forgive himself.

“Bucky?”

Softly, he smiled at Y/N’s sleepy eyes, trying to reassure her silently. From the way the corner of her mouth twitched as she stood up and the clouds he could see in her eyes, he understood that he did not look better than she did. After all, he had loose a significant amount of blood and his whole torso was wrapped tightly in a bandage against the hot skin of his wound. If he looked as bad as it hurt, he could only comprehend her reaction.

“I thought I had lost you,” she murmured as she had made it to his bed.

Standing next to the bed, Y/N had never looked so small and fragile to him. While he could still see her determined face while she was attending his wound before losing consciousness, her mask was now falling apart. Slowly, he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I thought I would lose you,” Bucky explained as if it was a reason enough to have let himself get shot instead of her.

Y/N shook her head in response, tears falling down her cheeks. She leaned on to his side to hug him gently, trying the best she could not to touch his stomach and cause him pain. Bucky held her as if his life depended on it; all while she cried in silence, her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

In all those years together, it had always been the other way around: Y/N comforting Bucky after his nightmares; Y/N dealing with Bucky single-handedly when he didn't feel worthy of love and happiness after all the pain he had caused as a Super Solider. She had been so strong for the both of them and now, she was letting it all go.

How was he wrong to assume she could put up with all his pain and sorrow. He knew now more than ever what a wonderful woman she was, and he would make a point to reminder her every day for the rest of their life.

“Don’t you dare pulling anything like this on me ever again,” she sniffled against his neck.

Bucky kissed her temple in response, never quite telling her that he would still take a bullet for her any time.

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