#these two's dynamic is just *chef's kiss* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

messylustt · 2 years ago

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Ethan smut with an Innocent and inexperienced reader? just them gasping and Ethan making sure they're okay, whimpering his name etc

there’s something about this dynamic that’s just *chefs kiss*

so innocent — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan teaching you how to pleasure yourself.

contents : virginity loss. very innocent reader. use of ‘good girl’. spit.

“How do I—“ You begin, brushing your hands down your skirt.

"It's okay, just follow my lead." Ethan said, also brushing his hands down your skirt. "Just lie back..." Ethan begins, gently pushing your shoulder so that you rested against the headboard of Ethan's bed. "That's it."

You had gone to Ethan after someone said something about touching oneself. And when you stared at them all in confusion they had laughed. You felt embarassed, and your confusion in the situation made you want to rectify that.

When you knocked on Ethan's dorm room, fidgeting nervously, you had quietly asked what touching yourself means.

Ethan had stared at you, surprised but progressively turned on by your earnest look. You had a slight blush tainting your cheeks, when Ethan pulled you further in, shutting the door.

"Are you sure, y/n?" Ethan asks you, letting his gaze drop to your bare legs. You readjusted yourself on his bed, as you stared at him, not knowing where to place your hands.

You nod. "I want to know what it means—what it's supposed to feel like." The innocence swirling in your eyes went straight to Ethan's dick.

He gulped, sitting beside you, as he placed his hand over your legs. "What did they say?"

"They were asking what the most scandelous place they touched themselves was." You bit your lips abesntmindely, nibbling in thought. "I hadn't known what to say."

Ethan moves closer to you, now resting his hand on your thigh. He didn't want you to know exactly how eager he was to teach you. "So, you've never touched yourself in anyway?"

You shake your head. "Is that bad?"

Ethan quickly shakes his head. "No, no." He moves closer, as he brushes your hair behind your ear. You meet his gaze as he darts his eyes across your face. "That's fine. Touching yourself just feels nice, that's why everyone does it."

"Oh." You nod, feeling slightly ashamed that you hadn't yet.

"I can show you." Ethan tries not to sound too eager, wanting you to feel safe and comfortable.

You gulp, but nod. "Is that okay?"

Ethan's eyes slightly glaze over as his hand shifts from your thigh. "Why don't you take off your skirt?"

You do so, shimmeying out of the material. You leant back against the headboard, keeping your thighs pressed together, embarrassed.

Ethan places his hand back on your now bare thigh, making you slightly shiver. "Is this okay?" Ethan gently asks, as he begins to stroke your skin, watching you closely.

You nod. "You have to use your words, y/n, so, that I know you're feeling okay."

"Yes." You say, as Ethan brings his hand closer to the edge of your panties. He traces the outline, continuing to speak. "You can touch yourself whenever you feel...hot down here." Ethan looks back to your face. "How do you feel now?"

Your chest is slightly heaving up and down as your rub your thighs together. "Hot and...weird."

"That's good." Ethan's tone is praising. "That means your turned on."

You nod, following on to Ethan's words. Ethan slowly drags two of his fingers down the middle of your clothed pussy. You jolt, attempting to close your legs tighter at the foriegn feeling. "Its okay." Ethan consoles, as he places both his hands on your thighs. He moves closer, for better access.

"I want to help you." He says, slowly pushing your legs apart. "For me to do that, I need you to spread your legs." Ethan's tone has turned slightly breathy, even more so as you slowly draw your legs further apart. "Good...girl." Ethan praises, gulping.

His comment sends a shiver through your body, resulting in heat at your core. "I feel hot...more than before."

Ethan nods, adjusting himself, so that he can stare at your pussy. He presses his fingers back to your middle, rubbing. You gasp, your back slightly arching. "That feels- oh."

"Good?" Ethan inquires, rubbing up and down your pussy. He could feel your wetness soaking through the material of your panties.

"I'm going to remove your panties now." Ethan states. "Can you lift your hips for me?"

You do, pressing back against Ethan's bed. Ethan drags your panties down and tossing them aside. He looks back to your now bare pussy.

The cold air makes you press your legs together again. Ethan catches your gaze, with a small raise to his brows. You slowly reopen your legs, spreading them wider than before. Ethan's breath hitches at the sight of you watching him, waiting for him to touch you.

Ethan brings his hand back to your core, gently stroking through your wetness. Your body immediantly responds, slightly pushing into him but also away. "You can use your fingers to pleasure yourself, like this..." Ethan begins to circle your clit, adding occasional pressure that makes your body jolt into him. "Oh..." a breathy whimper leaves your lips.

Ethan continues to stroke and rub you. Pleasure is coursing through you, as more little moans leave your lips, but you grow embarrassed at the noise coming out of you that you press your lips together.

"No, no. It's good to make noises, especially if someone else is touching you. It shows them you like what their doing." Ethan's fingertips are now soaked in your arousel, as he watches your expressions.

"I-is that what- that feels like- oh wow." You'd never felt so good before. Why hadn't you done this sooner? Ethan then draws his hand away from your pussy, allowing a needy, pathetic whine leave you.

Ethan grins, grabbing your hand and leading it down to your pussy. "I just want you to learn the movements that feel nice."

He begins to move his fingers along yours, guiding you across your pussy. You pass over your engorged clit, making your back arch. A moan tumbles from your lips, making Ethan's cock react against his pants. He quickens his pace, meaning your own fingers stroke against your pussy a pace faster. "E-ethan."

"Your doing so...so good." Ethan breathes as he palms himself over his pants.

You suddenly feel something about to explode in your lower stomach, making you push Ethan's hand away. But Ethan knows what your feeling, and puts his hand alone back oin your pussy, continuing to rub. "N-no, I-"

"That's normal." Ethan says gently, as he strokes you. "Your about to orgasm."

Your head hit backs against the headboard. Ethan then sticks a finger inside you. You grab his wrist. "What-"

"Its okay, y/n. It will help you reach your orgasm." Ethan begins to slowly thrust his finger in and out of you. You moan, louder this time, your mouth open and panting. "Oh, god, Ethan."

Ethan begins to rub himself over his pants as he fingers you. "I'm gonna add second finger, alright?" In response he pushes his middle finger into you. Your heaving hard, as pleasure stays written all over your face. "That feel good?"

"Uh- uh huh." You quickly nod, making Ethan slightly groan as he palms his throbbing cock.

Then pleasure hits you, like you've never felt it before. Your back arches against Ethan's pillow as shocks spread through your body. You shudder, as Ethan fingers you through your orgasm.

When Ethan pulls away your panting and breathless, your eyes slightly hooded. "I-wow."

You go to say more when you catch Ethan bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth. Your eyes grow wide as you watch him suck you orgasm off. Ethan grins, catching your big eyed gaze. "You taste lovely, y/n."

You gulp, feeling the pressure between your legs return. A confused expression befalls your face as you look back down to your pussy. "Why do I feel...hot again. You just-"

Ethan was smiling, and that's when you noticed his hand rubbing himself over his dick. "One can have many orgasms at once, y/n."

You then carefully point to his cock. "Does that mean your turned on too?"

Ethan's chest is heaving. "You want to learn more? There's other ways to feel good."

You gulp, but eagerly nod. If you can feel pleasure like that again you wouldn't hesitate. A growl leaves Ethan's lips as he quickly places his hands beside your head, as you fall back onto the bed, your head on a pillow.

You gazed up at Ethan, as he grabbed one of your legs, pulling you apart again. He wrapped your legs around his hips as he pushed his bulge down onto you. You slightly jolted up into him, your clit still slightly sensitive. Your mouth opened as Ethan began to slowly grind himself into you. The material of his pants feeling strange against your naked pussy.

Ethan breathed over your mouth. "Undo my belt for me."

You carefully move your hands down, undoing his belt slowly. You looked down at your working hands when Ethan grabbed your chin, pulling you back up so that his mouth hovered over yours. "You know how to kiss right?"

"I've kissed one person." You nod.

"Have you ever used tongue?"

Your cheeks grow pink, and Ethan has his answer. "Let me show you. It feels really good." He whispers, before kissing you. He just gently sucks on your bottom lip, going slow at first.

"Keep undoing my belt." Ethan whispers against your lips. Your quicken your hands, managing to un-loop the leather, as Ethan kisses you again. This time he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. "Open your mouth a fraction." Ethan instructs.

And when you do, he dives in, lapping at your tongue making you gasp. "Just copy my movements."

You move your head like his, and suck and lick his tongue like he was doing to you. "Pull me out— bring my cock out— now-" Ethans says breathlessly, as you had tossed his belt aside.

You unzip him, and gingerly sink your hand into his boxers, softly wrapping your hand around his cock, and bringing him out. Ethan's breathing shudders against your mouth, before he's pulling back, holding your thighs to him as he leant back.

He grabs a condom from his bedside table, removing the packet and placing it over his dick. "Is this okay?" Ethan asks you, as you nod quickly staring at his cock.

He then glances at your pussy, tilting his head slightly. Then he spits, directly onto you, making you gasp. He then uses his fingers to spread it around your clit and hole. Your body shudders as you can feel his spit drip. "Just want to make sure you're ready."

Ethan leans back down, kissing your lips. "Just tell me if you want to stop."

"Please." You say, anticipating the feeling of him inside you, if it felt anything similair to his fingers.

Ethan positions himself, as he slowly pushes in. You immediantl;y clench around him, your hands shooting to his shoulders. "It's gonna hurt at first, alright? But I promise you'll feel so good soon." Ethan pushes an inch further in, as your grip tightens. "It hurts-"

"Shh." Ethan kisses you. "You're okay." He distracts you by lapping at your neck as he pushes further in. "E-Ethan."

"Relax." He breaths against your skin, kissing and biting.

You try to, letting your walls lessen their hold, making ethan push much further in. "Just tell me when you want me to move."

You shakily nod, as you grab his shirt material. Soon, the pain shifts to pleausre and you shuffle, wanting Ethan to move. "You can move."

Ethan smiles, beginning to thrust in and out of you slowly at first before picking up pace. "Fuck..." He breathes, eyes rolling.

"Ethan..." You moan out, as your hands begin to wnader on yoru own. You reach his abs, feeling definition you never thought Ethan had. You scratch at his skin as Ethan moans into yoru ear. He supports himself by your head as he thrusts in and out.

"God, Ethan..." Your panting, feeling dazed.

"How do you feel?"

“So good, so, so good." you ramble out making Ethan grin.

"Your taking me so well, y/n. Good girl...taking me- fuck." Ethan's fingers tighten around the sheets. He kisses you, harder this time, as he picks up pace, making you both whimper and moan into each others mouths.

Soon Ethan orgasms, shuddering his hips into as you fall apart aswell. "Christ." Ethan gulps as he slows, staying inside you for a moment longer.

"I should have— god I should have been doing that a long time ago." You breath, chest heaving.

But Ethan shakes his head, as your brows knit together. Ethan kisses your lips before smiling. "Because then I wouldn't have been able to show you. I liked showing you."

Ethan spotted the marks he left on your neck and his smile widened. You looked so pretty like this. Hair a mess, eyes hooded, and chest heaving. So, fucking pretty for him.

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x y/n #jack champion x reader #jack champion smut #jack champion #scream smut #scream 6 #scream

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sanguineterrain · 7 months ago

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im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic

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brunchable · 1 month ago

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𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | Vampire!Bucky × F!reader × Vampire!Steve.

Pairings: VAMPIRE Bucky Barnes x f!reader X VAMPIRE Steve Rogers Themes: Allure and Danger, Mind-control, Seduction, Powerlessness. Content Warning: This story containes themes of horror, suspense and supernatural elements that may be unsettling for some readers. It includes depictions of blood, violence, predatory behavior, and dark themes of power dynamics. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with themes like this. Summary: Your great-aunt left you an inheritance, but it wasn't just an old castle—it was a dark legacy. As she explores its eerie halls, Y/N unknowingly awakens something ancient and deadly, turning her from an unsuspecting heir into the next castle's victim. A/N: OooOooOOoo Advance happy hallooween. . . If you really want to get in the mood, look up vampire music povs on youtube. they are chef's kiss.

The castle loomed before Y/N like a dark, brooding sentinel against the storm-ridden sky. Its towering spires disappeared into the thick fog that clung to the surrounding mountains, and the jagged stones of its walls seemed to be weeping from centuries of decay. She shivered as she pushed open the iron-wrought gates, the hinges groaning like some tormented beast. The wind picked up, sending leaves spiraling around her, and she clutched her coat tighter, pressing forward with her mind set on a singular goal: This place needs to turn a profit.

What had her great-aunt seen in this wretched estate to leave it to her? The thought weighed on Y/N as she ascended the stone steps, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness. The wooden doors creaked open under her hand, revealing a grand foyer lined with cracked marble and dust-coated chandeliers that dripped cobwebs like ghostly lace.

The last time she’d set foot in this place, she’d been just a child—five years old and clutching her mother’s hand tightly, staring wide-eyed at the looming shadows and the way the old portraits seemed to watch her. She could still remember the way the cold air had nipped at her skin, how everything had felt too big and dark, swallowing her small frame whole. Now, returning as an adult, it felt no less daunting—just as haunted and hollow as her childhood memories.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The air was musty, stale, and laced with something metallic that lingered on her tongue. Still, Y/N’s resolve didn’t falter.

“I’m not going to be scared off by a spooky old castle,” she muttered to herself, voice too loud in the silence.

Her footsteps seemed to disturb the quiet, sending whispers of sound skittering through the corridors. With every room she entered, every piece of dusty furniture she uncovered, Y/N’s confidence grew. She could see the potential—a little restoration, a few modern amenities, and Castle Roghnan would become the most unique boutique hotel in the region.

The ground floor was fairly straightforward. She made notes on what needed fixing, where to add touches of elegance, and what to keep authentic. At some point during her exploration, she’d set her bags down in the dining hall, thinking she’d return there once she’d finished her tour of the castle. The dining hall itself had been just as eerie as the rest of the place—long, dusty tables, cobwebbed chandeliers, and a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in a century.

But what really stood out were the portraits that lined the walls, watching her with eyes that seemed to follow her every move.

They were old, their colors faded with age, but they were still striking—two men, both with unnervingly pale skin and eyes that seemed to burn with an intensity that sent shivers racing down her spine. One of them wore a black coat, his expression stern, almost cruel, his dark hair falling over his forehead in an unruly wave. The other, dressed in a dark brown suit, had a more refined look, his beard neatly trimmed and his gaze piercing through her like he knew every secret she’d ever kept.

These portraits had haunted her as a child, filling her nightmares with faceless, shadowy figures that chased her through endless corridors. She used to wake up sobbing, convinced their eyes were following her even after she’d left the room. Now, staring at them again, it was as if the memories resurfaced with a vengeance—the same chilling sensation that made her want to look away and run, just as she had all those years ago.

She hadn’t lingered long in front of the portraits, the oppressive weight of their gazes making her uneasy. But something about them nagged at the back of her mind as she continued through the castle, their faces etched into her memory.

The ground floor completed, it wasn’t until she reached the narrow, spiral staircase at the back of the castle—hidden behind a tapestry of snarling wolves—that she hesitated. The door at the bottom of the stairs seemed out of place—heavy, iron-bound, and covered in strange symbols she didn’t recognize.

Y/N bit her lip, holding her flashlight tightly. Just a quick look. It’s probably just storage or a wine cellar. She descended cautiously, the staircase spiraling down into what felt like an abyss. The temperature dropped with each step, the air growing damper, thicker. The door groaned as she pushed it open, the sound echoing down the long, dark hallway that stretched out before her.

She hadn’t seen anything yet that couldn’t be explained away as an overactive imagination or a castle abandoned for too long. But as she stepped into the basement, something shifted—a change in the air, a heaviness that settled over her like a cloak.

Her flashlight swept across the room—stone walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes and artifacts.

The cavernous basement seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the darkness growing thicker the deeper Y/N ventured. She could almost hear the castle breathe around her, its heavy silence shifting and settling like some ancient beast awakening from a deep slumber. With each step, her flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the stone walls.

At the far end, nestled against the wall, were three grand coffins, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings and symbols.

Y/N’s heart pounded. What in God’s name were coffins doing down here?

She stepped closer, unable to tear her gaze away. The coffins looked… regal, almost. Like the final resting places of kings or warriors. But why were they here?

Each one was massive, carved from cold, unyielding marble that gleamed under the beam of her light. Veins of black and gray ran through the stone like blood vessels, and the lids were inlaid with symbols that twisted and curled like thorny vines. They were too pristine to be empty—an ominous, silent promise of what lay within.

Y/N’s hand shook as she approached the first coffin. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. It’s probably just a container? There’s no such thing as monsters. But even as she thought it, her pulse hammered in her ears, and every instinct screamed at her to run. Ignoring the warning bells ringing in her mind, she squared her shoulders and reached out, fingertips grazing the frigid marble.

The lid resisted at first, but then, with a heavy groan that echoed through the chamber, it shifted. Y/N pushed harder, the weight of it making her muscles strain. With a grunt, she pushed against it, the lid sliding open with a heavy thunk, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. She coughed, the sound reverberating in the suffocating silence as the flashlight beam swept over the coffin’s interior.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Inside lay a man—perfectly preserved, as if he’d only just fallen asleep. His skin was as pale as moonlight, his features sharp and aristocratic. Dark lashes rested against high cheekbones, his lips—redder than they had any right to be—were parted slightly, giving him an ethereal, almost haunting beauty. If not for the unnatural stillness of his chest, she might have thought him alive.

A choked scream tore from Y/N’s lips. The sound bounced off the walls, mocking her fear. She stumbled backward, the flashlight slipping from her hand and clattering to the ground, the beam jerking and casting wild shadows that seemed to twist and writhe in the corners of the room.

She landed hard on her backside, breath coming in rapid gasps. Her eyes never left the coffin, the terror flooding her senses. But he didn’t move. Not a twitch, not a flicker of life. Just… a corpse.

“Holy—” she gasped, heart pounding like a drum in her ears. She scrambled back, pushing herself away from the coffin until her spine hit something solid.

The other coffin.

The carved marble felt colder against her back, sending a shiver through her bones. Y/N twisted around, panic seizing her chest as she caught sight of the ornate symbols etched into this second coffin’s surface. She could barely think, barely breathe, but she found herself moving, fingers searching for purchase along the coffin’s lid as if compelled by something beyond her control.

Just get out, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, but her hands moved of their own accord. Dust cascaded down in a soft cloud as she pushed the second lid, her fingers trembling with the effort. It was heavier than the first, resisting as if the very air around it thickened to keep her from opening it.

With a final, desperate shove, the lid shifted, scraping against the stone floor.

Y/N didn’t notice the way the first figure shot up from his slumber, his eyes snapping open with a flash of red glow. She was too focused on the second coffin, too wrapped up in the horror and curiosity twisting inside her like a living thing.

She leaned over the marble edge, heart hammering, and stared down into the face of another man. He was similar to the first in his unsettling beauty, but his features were sharper, more feral. His hair, dark as midnight, framed a face that could have belonged to a fallen angel. The moment she saw him, a wave of terror and fascination washed over her, locking her in place.

The silence was deafening. She took a step back, her foot catching on the uneven stone, but before she could regain her balance—

She sensed it before she saw it: a low, almost imperceptible rustle in the air, like a predator moving in the shadows. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. With a gut-wrenching slowness, she turned her head, a chill of dread washing over her as her gaze fell back on the first coffin.

It was empty.

The man—the corpse—who had been lying so still and lifeless was gone.

Her breath hitched, and panic flooded her veins, drowning out all rational thought. She glanced frantically around the chamber, heart thundering.

Desperation clawed at her senses as she whipped around to look at the second coffin. It, too, was now empty.

The blood drained from her face. Her entire body shook as her mind struggled to process what she was seeing—what she wasn’t seeing. She stumbled back, gasping, her gaze flitting wildly around the room. They were gone. Both bodies—once so still and dead—had vanished.

Her flashlight beam swung crazily across the stone walls and floors as she looked around, frantic, searching every corner and shadow. But there was nothing. No sign of movement. No one in sight. Just her—alone in the dark, empty crypt.

She swallowed the scream clawing its way up her throat and took a shaky step back. Move. The command rang through her mind like a gunshot. She turned, muscles seizing with fear, and sprinted up the stairs, breath coming in panicked.

The sound of her footsteps echoed wildly in the narrow passage, and the air around her seemed to close in, thick and suffocating. She didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare slow down, heart slamming against her ribcage as she reached the top of the stairs.

Her fingers fumbled on the handle, slick with sweat. She yanked the door open and burst through, slamming it shut behind her with a bang that reverberated through the castle. Hastily, she shoved the lock into place, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold on.

For a heartbeat, she stood there, chest heaving, back pressed against the door as if her weight alone could keep whatever was down there trapped. The silence pressed in around her, thick and oppressive, broken only by her ragged breaths.

Stay there. Please, stay there.

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to whatever force might be listening that whatever she’d just unleashed wouldn’t follow her. That whatever she’d left behind would remain in the basement—where it belonged. But even as she stood there, trembling and afraid, a cold certainty gripped her heart.

They were awake. And now… they were free.

× × × ×

With one last glance over her shoulder, she sprinted down the corridor, the muffled sound of her boots pounding against the aged wooden floors echoing through the empty halls.

She burst into the grand foyer, chest heaving, and then—almost instinctively—turned toward the dining room where she had dropped her bag and coat earlier. The chandeliers overhead flickered erratically, casting long, spider-leg shadows on the walls, and the air was different—thick and humid, saturated with the acrid scent of old wood and metallic.

Get your things and leave. Get out of here. Don’t look back. The frantic mantra repeated in her mind as she raced through the hallways, the feeling of being watched never quite leaving her. She reached the threshold of the dining room, skidding to a halt as her gaze swept over the familiar space.

She froze.

The once dark and desolate dining room was now bathed in an eerie, flickering glow. Dozens of candles, which she was certain hadn’t been there before, lined the walls and tabletop, their flames casting an unsettling dance of light and shadow. The long mahogany table was set with dusty, ornate china, as if in anticipation of a grand feast that had never happened. A low, haunting melody drifted through the air, the eerie sound of an organ playing a dirge that sent chills skittering down her spine.

But that wasn’t what made her breath catch in her throat.

Sitting casually at the far end of the table, sitting as if they’d been expecting her all along, were the men from the portraits—the corpses.

Steve lounged in one of the high-backed chairs, his boots propped up on the table as if he owned the place. He toyed lazily with a silver coin, flipping it up into the air and catching it with ease, his eyes tracking the motion with a hint of amusement. The candlelight played across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the unnatural glow in his eyes.

Beside him, Bucky sat sprawled in an equally regal chair, his posture relaxed, hands resting leisurely on the armrests. He watched her with a smirk that sent a jolt of fear through her veins. He tilted his head slightly, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead, his gaze almost mocking as it roamed over her disheveled appearance.

“So nice of you to join us.” Bucky’s smile was charming, almost disarmingly so, but the sharp edge of his teeth glinted in the candlelight. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled as he regarded her with a look of feigned politeness. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. Her fingers clenched around the strap of her bag as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the two men who—by all logic—should not have been there. Should not have been alive.

She swallowed, forcing herself to speak, but her voice came out a broken whisper. “What… what do you want?”

Steve’s gaze slid lazily over to her, the coin flashing as it spun through the air and landed neatly in his palm. He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost intimate.

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart? You woke us. And now…” He gestured grandly to the table and the candlelit room around them, smirk widening. “We’re making the most of your hospitality.”

A soft inhalation from Bucky drew Y/N’s attention, his eyes darkening to a shade of red as his nostrils flared. His gaze drifted over her throat, lingering as if he could see every pulse and vein beneath her skin.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, almost to himself, the words a low rumble in his chest. “So… tempting.”

Steve’s lips twitched, the coin spinning lazily between his fingers.

“We were getting a bit… lonely down there,” he said with a note of amusement, though his gaze never left her, as if he were savoring every breath she took. “It’s been centuries, you know. One tends to get a little… restless.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a small, hesitant step back, her gaze darting between the two of them. The door was only a few feet behind her, and if she could just make it outside, get to her car—

“Leaving so soon?” Steve’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and mocking. He swung his feet off the table, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The coin slipped from his fingers, landing on the table with a soft clink. “We haven’t even had dessert.”

Her gaze flickered to the door and back. “I—”

“—don’t want to go just yet, do you?” Bucky finished, raising an eyebrow. His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with a dark, predatory light. His nostrils flared again, and a soft, appreciative hum left his lips. “We’ve hardly had the chance to get acquainted.”

Y/N stumbled back another step, her back hitting the doorframe. She flinched, the sudden jolt snapping her out of her stunned daze. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to wake us?” Steve interjected, voice smooth and dangerous. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his gaze locked onto her like a predator stalking its prey. “Well, that’s a shame, sweetheart. Because now that you have…”

Bucky shifted, his form blurring at the edges like smoke dissipating in the wind. Before Y/N could blink, he was no longer seated but standing inches away from her, his tall frame towering over hers. The shadows around him seemed to thicken and swirl, like tendrils of darkness coiling in the air.

“You don’t get to leave now, darling,” he whispered, voice a soft caress that sent shivers racing down her spine.

Y/N gasped and tried to step back, but in a blink—less than a blink—Steve was behind her, his presence a cold draft at her back. She whirled around, heart hammering, only to find his face inches from hers, his eyes glowing a brilliant, blood red.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled, lips curling into a smile that showed off sharp fangs glistening in the candlelight.

Y/N’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her head swiveled from side to side, searching for an escape that no longer existed. Their figures seemed to flicker like a mirage, shifting closer without moving, surrounding her with no more than a thought.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bucky murmured from beside her, his voice laced with something that almost sounded like concern—if not for the hunger burning in his eyes. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Much,” Steve added with a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse beat wildly beneath her skin. “But you do smell… exquisite.”

They exchanged a glance. With a flash of movement too quick for her eyes to follow, Steve’s fingers brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck. She flinched, but he only hummed softly, as if savoring the sight.

Bucky leaned closer, his breath a chilling whisper against her skin. “I wonder… how fast will you run if we give you a head start?”

Steve’s smile widened, fangs glinting. “Ten seconds?”

“Five,” Bucky countered, gaze flickering back to hers, the scarlet in his eyes deepening with each passing second.

Y/N’s pulse roared in her ears, the organ’s haunting melody blending with the sound of her panicked breathing. They were toying with her, their words teasing and light, but the threat was real—so real she could taste it, like metal on her tongue.

“Run,” Bucky whispered, voice low and full of promise.

Y/N hesitated for a split second, but that was all it took. The shadows around them twisted, their forms dissolving into hazy tendrils of smoke that coiled and writhed through the air.

“Run, little prey,” Steve’s voice floated through the darkness, echoing around her as the hazy mist of his form flitted across the room like a ghostly apparition. “We’ll catch you.”

Y/N didn’t wait to hear more. She spun on her heel and bolted out of the room, the sound of their laughter—a dark, delighted sound—echoing behind her as she fled.

As she sprinted down the hallway, the walls seemed to close in, the air thickening with each frantic breath she took. She could feel them—sense them—moving in the shadows, trailing her like wolves stalking their prey. Every glance over her shoulder revealed nothing but flickering candlelight and empty space, yet she knew—knew—they were there.

Their voices whispered through the air, soft and seductive.

“Run, little prey.”

“Run.”

But no matter how fast she ran, how desperately she tried to escape, she could feel their presence closing in, the scent of her fear and blood drawing them closer.

They were right behind her.

And they were hungry.

× × × ×

The organ’s mournful melody chased Y/N through the hallways, the haunting notes twisting around her like ghostly fingers. She ran, legs burning and chest heaving, every instinct urging her to flee faster, to not look back. The heavy shadows seemed to move with her, shifting and swirling as if they, too, were alive.

Almost there. She could see the grand foyer ahead, the large double doors she had left ajar when she first entered. The cold night air wafted through the small gap, carrying with it the promise of escape, of safety.

Her heart leapt as she pushed herself harder, fingers outstretched toward the door that seemed both impossibly close and unbearably far. Just a few more steps, and she’d be free. She’d be—

A flash of movement blurred in front of her, a gust of wind that sent her hair flying. Y/N skidded to a halt, the scream caught in her throat as a figure materialized out of thin air, solidifying in front of the door in the span of a heartbeat.

Steve.

He stood casually, his hand resting on the edge of the door, which he shut with a single, effortless motion. The heavy wood slammed into place, the sound reverberating through the grand hall like the final toll of a death knell.

“Oops, there goes your exit.” he murmured, voice low and taunting, a dark smile curling his lips as his gaze raked over her with predatory delight.

Y/N staggered back, blood roaring in her ears. She spun on her heel, only to collide with a solid wall of muscle and cold flesh. Her breath hitched as she looked up, eyes widening in horror as Bucky’s smirking face loomed above her, his hands braced loosely at his sides, but every line of his body radiating power and menace.

“Careful,” Bucky drawled, a dangerous light dancing in his scarlet eyes. “You might hurt yourself, darling.”

Fear sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins, and without thinking, Y/N swung her fist at him in a desperate attempt to break free. But Bucky moved faster—far faster—his hand snapping up to catch her wrist with a grip like iron. She gasped as he twisted her arm gently but firmly, pulling her closer until her wrist was just inches from his face.

He inhaled deeply, the sound almost like a purr, his eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the scent of her skin.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “You smell… absolutely delicious. It’s turning me on.”

Y/N struggled, trying to wrench her arm free, but Bucky’s grip tightened, holding her firmly in place. He lowered his head, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her wrist, and a soft, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver through her entire body. “You’re making this so much more fun.” He glanced up at her, his gaze heavy with hunger. “Do you know what it does to us when you fight?”

She tried to pull away again, her heart slamming against her ribs, but Bucky only chuckled, a low, intimate sound that sent heat flooding through her veins. He turned her wrist slightly, pressing his nose against the pulse point, his fangs just barely grazing her skin.

“Stop!” Y/N choked out, her voice shaking.

Steve’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he murmured, his voice a soft, seductive whisper that seemed to coil around her, tightening with every breath she took. He took a slow step closer, head tilting slightly as if to savor the sound.

“It’s racing—your blood rushing so fast… it makes you more…” Steve paused, his gaze dropping to the frantic flutter of her pulse in her neck. “Irresistible.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin of her wrist, his lips brushing lightly over her veins.

“Mmm, yes,” he murmured, the words a low purr against her flesh. “Like a sweet, ripe fruit ready to be plucked.”

Y/N’s body trembled, fear and confusion warring with the strange, unwanted heat curling in her stomach.

“Please, let me go,” she whispered, the plea breaking on a sob.

Steve’s gaze locked onto hers, a dark smile curving his lips as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over the curve of her throat.

“Let you go?” he whispered, voice filled with dark amusement. He shook his head slowly, the gesture almost pitying. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re too… delectable for that.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over her racing pulse, and Y/N gasped, jerking back. But she had nowhere to go—no escape. She was trapped between them, the air around her thickening, stifling.

“I can feel it, too,” Bucky murmured, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly as he drew her closer. His gaze was heavy-lidded, the crimson glow in his eyes deepening as he stared at her with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of fear crashing through her. “The way your blood sings to us.”

“Begging to be tasted,” Steve added softly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Every heartbeat… every breath… makes us want you even more.”

He leaned closer, his mouth hovering over her throat, and Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as the sharp tips of his fangs just barely grazed her skin.

“Careful now, Steve,” Bucky murmured, his tone darkly amused. He tugged her wrist gently, but his strength was undeniable, forcing her to take a step back. “If you keep taunting her like that, she’ll faint before we even get her upstairs.”

Y/N stiffened, terror flooding her veins like ice. “Upstairs?” she echoed, voice shaking.

Steve pulled back just enough to meet her wide-eyed gaze, his smile slow and deliberate. “That’s right, sweetheart. You didn’t think we’d let you run around down here all night, did you?”

Bucky’s fingers brushed against her pulse, the touch both possessive and deceptively gentle.

“We’ve been waiting for so long,” he murmured, his gaze sliding down her body with a look that made her skin prickle. “We want to… enjoy you properly.”

She tried to pull away, but Bucky’s hold only tightened, his smile widening. “Oh, don’t be shy. You’ll look lovely in something a bit more… suitable.”

He glanced at Steve, something dark and knowing passing between them.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice dropped to a seductive purr, his eyes never leaving hers. “Should we take her upstairs? Dress her up nice and proper before we really have some fun?”

Steve hummed softly, his gaze trailing over Y/N’s trembling form.

“Definitely,” he agreed, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a fresh wave of fear—and something darker—curling in her stomach. “A delicate, white nightdress, perhaps. Something soft. Something… pure.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest, to scream, but before she could utter a word, the world around her twisted and blurred.

The shadows swirled, and the ground seemed to fall away beneath her feet. A dizzying rush of cold air engulfed her, squeezing her lungs and making her head spin. It felt as if her entire body had been caught in a whirlpool, pulled in every direction at once. She gasped, vision darkening at the edges, the sudden pressure and cold lancing through her mind, making her feel like she was being torn apart and put back together all at once.

The sensation was sickening and exhilarating, a chaotic mix of terror and euphoria that left her senses reeling. She wanted to scream, but her voice was swallowed by the disorienting void around her, the sound crushed and muted. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat as the world spun faster, faster—

And then, as abruptly as it began, it stopped.

Y/N staggered, her knees buckling as her feet hit solid ground. The world snapped back into focus, the swirling darkness giving way to dim light and soft, suffocating warmth. She swayed on her feet, her head throbbing and her vision swimming as she tried to catch her breath.

“Oh, darling,” Bucky’s voice purred from somewhere nearby, the sound reverberating in her ears like a sweet, sinister lullaby. “You look a little pale. The first time’s always a bit rough, isn’t it?”

Y/N blinked, her vision slowly clearing. She glanced around, confusion and fear flooding her senses as she realized they were no longer in the dining room.

They were in a bedroom—a large, opulent chamber shrouded in shadows and bathed in soft, muted candlelight. Heavy velvet drapes covered the tall windows, casting the room in shades of deep crimson and black. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space, its dark wood gleaming dully in the low light.

“What… what happened?” she croaked, swaying on her feet as she tried to get her bearings. Her entire body felt like it was floating, her skin tingling as if she’d been electrified. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead.

“You’ve never been teleported before, have you?” Steve’s voice was closer now, a low, intimate murmur that seemed to curl around her like smoke. He appeared beside her in a blur of movement, his hand slipping under her elbow to steady her. “I suppose it’s a little… disorienting.”

A little disorienting? Y/N’s stomach churned, and she fought back the urge to vomit, the sensation of being torn through space and time still lingering like a phantom ache in her bones.

Steve’s hand tightened slightly on her arm, his gaze intent as he studied her face. “But it does have its perks.” His lips twitched into a faint, teasing smile. “We get to move you wherever we want… whenever we want.”

Bucky’s laughter, low and dark, echoed through the room.

“And right now,” he murmured, his voice like velvet as he stepped forward, the crimson glow in his eyes sending a fresh wave of fear—and something disturbingly close to anticipation—coursing through her veins. “We want you here.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her gaze darting around the room. The bed loomed in the center of her vision, its silk sheets and plush pillows looking far too inviting. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to back away, but Steve’s grip on her arm held firm.

“Easy now,” Steve murmured, his voice low and soothing, though the amusement in his eyes belied the gentleness of his tone. “Don’t hurt yourself. We’re not going to bite… yet.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, shadows curling around him like living tendrils, drawn to the darkness that seemed to bleed from his very being. He wore a stark black shirt, the fabric almost blending into the darkness itself, its high collar emphasizing the unnaturally pale skin of his throat and the strong column of his neck.

Every step he took was a predator’s prowl, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His lips curved, exposing just a hint of his sharp teeth, and it was in that moment you realized: Bucky wasn’t just dangerous.

He was death itself, dressed in human skin.

“But we will have you dressed properly,” he murmured, gesturing to the far side of the room.

Y/N’s eyes followed his hand.

Hanging from a delicate gold hanger beside the vanity was a nightdress—white and sheer, the material almost translucent in the flickering candlelight. The lace trim and delicate embroidery only added to the impression of fragility, of purity… of something meant to be ruined.

“Put it on,” Bucky commanded softly, his voice firm but oddly gentle. He raised an eyebrow when she hesitated, his smile sharpening. “Or shall we help you?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, every fiber of her being recoiling at the idea.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, I won’t—”

Steve’s eyes locked onto hers, the crimson depths suddenly brightening with an unnatural, otherworldly glow.

“Yes, you will,” he whispered, his voice sinking into her mind like a hook, the words wrapping around her senses, squeezing tight.

A cold and insidious sensation slithered through her thoughts, wrapping around her consciousness like a vice. Y/N’s body stiffened, her limbs freezing in place as if invisible chains had locked her in place. She tried to shake her head, to pull away, but she couldn’t move—couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe.

The world around her blurred at the edges, fading into a hazy, dreamlike fog. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, as if she were underwater. She watched in growing horror as her own hand—moving of its own accord—reached for the nightdress.

“No…” she whimpered, but the sound was distant, muted. She could hear herself speaking, could feel the resistance building in her chest, but it was as if she were watching herself from the outside, trapped behind a thick pane of glass.

“Good girl,” Bucky murmured approvingly, his voice a soft, dark purr. He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her fingers close around the delicate fabric. “Don’t fight it. It’ll only make things harder for you.”

Y/N’s hands moved mechanically, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping it off her shoulders, the cool air prickling her exposed skin. Her fingers trembled as they tugged at her pants, the motions stiff and jerky, her mind screaming in protest.

No, stop it—stop—this isn’t me!

But no matter how much she struggled, how much she screamed inside her own head, her body continued to betray her. The nightdress slipped over her head, the soft fabric brushing against her skin in a way that made her shudder. The lace clung to her curves, the sheer material leaving little to the imagination.

“There,” Steve murmured, stepping closer, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Isn’t that better?”

Y/N’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She felt trapped, helpless, as if she were caught in a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Bucky’s gaze roamed over her slowly, hungrily, the dark smile on his lips widening.

“Absolutely perfect,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that made her skin prickle.

Y/N’s mind screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried to break free from the invisible hold on her body. But Steve’s hand tightened on her chin, his thumb brushing away the tears with a gentleness that only made her feel more trapped.

“Shh,” he soothed, his voice a dark, dangerous lullaby. “There’s no need to cry, sweetheart. We promise it won’t hurt… much.”

The softness of his touch a cruel mockery of the horror swirling inside her. The spell that held her body in thrall made her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, as if she were a puppet dancing on invisible strings. She could feel herself trembling, feel the rapid beat of her own heart hammering against her ribs, but she couldn’t control a single thing. Couldn’t even speak.

“Look at me,” Steve murmured, his voice a silken command that echoed in her mind. Her eyes snapped to him of their own accord, pupils wide and glazed. His gaze held hers captive, locking her in place. “You’re not going to fight anymore, are you?”

A part of her wanted to scream, to tell him that she would never give up. But her mouth betrayed her, the words that slipped from her lips a soft, obedient murmur. “No… I won’t fight.”

× × × ×

She was aware—painfully, terrifyingly aware—of every movement, every breath that came too fast, too shallow. Her limbs felt heavy and distant, her mind caught in a strange, numbing haze.

Move. Run. Do something.

But her body refused to obey, her muscles unresponsive to her control. All she could do was watch through her own eyes as Bucky and Steve moved closer, their forms looming over her like shadows.

Y/N struggled to form a coherent thought, her mind spinning as their mouths brushed over her skin—soft, lingering kisses that sent shivers racing down her spine. Every time she thought she might catch her breath, Steve’s mouth would graze her ear, or Bucky’s fangs would scrape lightly over her collarbone, drawing a gasp from her lips.

“You taste as good as you smell, I bet,” Bucky mused, his lips curving into a wicked smile. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, teasing kiss. His tongue brushed over her lower lip, coaxing her to open for him, and Y/N’s body betrayed her—responding with a soft, helpless whimper.

And then he bit her—just a light, almost playful nip, enough to break the skin and let the faintest hint of blood well up on her lip. Y/N froze, shock flooding her senses as the metallic taste filled her mouth.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to catch the tiny bead of blood. His eyes darkened, the red in his irises flaring with sudden, unrestrained hunger.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “Sweetheart, you taste—”

“—divine,” Steve finished, his gaze fixed on the tiny cut. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. The taste of her blood mingled with his tongue, sending a shudder through him. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips. “So sweet. I just had to have a little taste myself.”

Steve’s mouth was on hers again, his kiss deeper this time, interlocking hers. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her still as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth, tasting, savoring. When he pulled back, his eyes were practically glowing, a wicked smile curling his lips.

“Mm, delicious,” he murmured, licking his lips. “I think we’ve been missing out, Buck.”

“Definitely,” Bucky agreed, his gaze never leaving her face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her jaw, her cheek, her throat—teasing, taunting, making her breath hitch and her pulse race. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll make up for lost time.”

Y/N’s body trembled beneath their attention, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Steve asked softly, his lips trailing down to her collarbone. “Don’t kiss you? Don’t touch you? Or…” His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, drawing a shudder from her. “Don’t bite you?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, his fingers sliding up her side, brushing against the thin material of the nightdress.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement. “You don’t even know what you want, do you?”

Steve’s laughter was soft, almost indulgent. “But that’s okay,” he murmured, his mouth hovering over the delicate curve of her throat. “Because we know exactly what you need.”

His lips brushed against her pulse, the softest hint of his fangs grazing her skin, and Y/N’s entire body stiffened, a small, choked sound escaping her throat.

“Shh, shh,” Bucky soothed, his hands caressing her gently, almost lovingly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll be gentle… at first.”

Steve’s fangs grazed her neck again, the sharp tips just barely pressing into her skin, and Y/N’s breath caught, fear and something dangerously close to anticipation tangling together in a twisted knot in her chest.

“You’ll like it,” Steve whispered, his voice a dark, seductive promise. “You’ll like the way it feels when we sink our teeth into you… when we drink from you…”

Bucky’s mouth curved into a wicked smile, his gaze locked on her face as he leaned down, his breath cool against her throat.

“You’ll ask for it, darling,” he murmured, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Ask us to bite you… beg us to make you ours.”

Y/N’s heart pounded wildly, her mind a chaotic whirl of fear and confusion and something else—something dark and thrilling that she couldn’t quite push away.

“Let us in, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his mouth moving lower, kissing the spot where her pulse fluttered frantically beneath her skin. “Let us make you feel… alive.”

Bucky’s lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, velvety murmur that sent shivers racing down her spine. “Let go, darling. Just let go.”

And as their fangs grazed her skin, as their voices whispered promises and lies against her flesh, Y/N felt herself slipping, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned.

“Just one bite,” Bucky murmured, his voice dripping with wicked pleasure.

“Just one taste,” Steve echoed, his mouth pressing against her pulse, the sharp points of his fangs sending a jolt of fear and excitement racing through her.

When their fangs sank into her skin—Bucky at her throat, Steve at her shoulder—the pain was sharp and sudden, a piercing sting that shot through her body like a lightning strike. She gasped, eyes flying wide as her body stiffened, every muscle locking tight in anticipation of agony.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a strange, overwhelming euphoria spread through her, radiating out from the points where their teeth broke her skin. It was as if a wave of warmth and pleasure crashed over her, drowning out everything else, leaving only a dizzying, intoxicating sensation that made her gasp again.

Her body reacted on its own, arching off the bed, pushing up into them as if seeking more. The nightdress, so pristine and delicate just moments ago, now pulled taut across her skin, the sheer fabric doing nothing to hide the way her body shuddered beneath their mouths.

“Ah—” The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, a moan choked with pleasure and disbelief. She could feel every pull of their mouths as they drank deeply, every flick of their tongues against her skin sending pulses of heat spiraling through her veins.

What… what is this? The question tumbled through her mind in a daze, but she couldn’t hold onto it, couldn’t grasp any thought that wasn’t focused on the dizzying mix of sensations flooding her senses.

The venom, or whatever it was they were releasing into her bloodstream, felt like liquid fire, like every nerve in her body was lighting up with an unbearable, exquisite pleasure. She should have been horrified—terrified—at the way her body reacted to them, the way her back arched off the bed, her lips parting in soft, breathy gasps. But all she could feel was heat, need, and the dark, aching desire for more.

Bucky’s mouth moved lower, his teeth scraping over her collarbone, leaving a trail of red in his wake. He bit down again, harder this time, and Y/N cried out, her body jerking as another wave of euphoria crashed through her.

“Fuck, she tastes good,” Bucky growled against her skin, his voice rough. He licked at the fresh wound, his tongue swirling around the bite marks as if savoring every drop of blood. “So fucking sweet.”

Steve’s hand slipped under her jaw, tilting her head back further, exposing more of her throat to his hungry gaze.

“Good little prey,” he murmured, his breath cool against her flushed skin. He leaned in, biting down just below her ear, and Y/N’s vision blurred, a soft, helpless moan escaping her lips.

“More,” she whimpered, the word slipping out before she could think, before she could stop it.

Their answering laughter was dark and delighted, a sound that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

“More?” Steve echoed, his lips curving against her skin. “You want more, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s fingers twisted in the sheets, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensations.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the word.

“Mm, that’s what we like to hear,” Bucky murmured, his mouth descending on her shoulder, his fangs sinking in deep. He drank greedily, his tongue lapping at the fresh flow of blood as he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her body.

“You taste like fear and fire, darling,” Bucky drawled, . “Sweet like honey laced with venom. I could drink you forever and still crave more.”

Steve shifted lower, his lips trailing down her chest, brushing over the swell of her breasts. He bit down again, and Y/N’s body jerked, her back bowing as the pleasure spiked, her head spinning.

“Such a good little thing,” Steve whispered against her skin, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “So sweet… and so willing.”

Their mouths moved over her with a ravenous, chaotic hunger, biting and sucking, drawing blood from every inch of exposed skin they could find. Her shoulders, her arms, the delicate curve of her collarbone—all of it was fair game, all of it marked by their fangs and painted with her blood. Each bite sent a fresh surge of pleasure crashing through her, the venom making her feel drunk, delirious, lost.

Her nightdress—once so white and innocent—was now stained crimson, the thin fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Bucky’s hand fisted in the delicate material, pulling it down further, baring more of her to their hungry eyes.

“Look at you,” Bucky murmured, his gaze dark and fevered as he leaned back, his mouth and chin smeared with blood. “Such a mess. So fucking beautiful like this.”

Steve licked his lips, his eyes practically glowing as he looked down at her. “Covered in your own blood… our own little masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous caress. He leaned down, his tongue flicking out to trace the curve of her jaw, licking up the blood that dripped down her neck. “Fuck, I can’t get enough.”

Their mouths descended again, a frenzy of bites and kisses and nips that left her gasping, her body writhing beneath them. She could feel herself slipping further, falling into the dark, twisted pleasure they offered, every part of her aching for more.

Steve’s fangs sank into her shoulder again, harder this time, and Y/N’s body arched, a sharp cry tearing from her lips. Bucky shifted lower, his teeth scraping over the delicate curve of her wrist before he bit down, his fangs piercing the soft flesh. The pain was sharp and sudden, making her fingers twitch and her back arch as the sensation shot through her like a live wire.

Blood welled up from the fresh punctures, thick and warm as it pooled around his lips. The scent hit them both immediately—a heady mix of iron and heat, rich and intoxicating—filling the air and making Bucky groan softly against her skin. He drank deeply, his mouth moving against her wrist with a ravenous hunger, the velvety liquid sliding down his throat in a way that made his entire body shudder in dark satisfaction.

Steve’s mouth pulled greedily at her shoulder, his tongue swirling over the puncture marks as he drank deeply, the taste of her blood flooding his senses like the richest wine. The thick, coppery warmth coated his tongue, sliding down his throat in a way that made his body vibrate with the sheer pleasure of it. It was more than just sustenance—it was power, each drop surging through him like fire, seeping into every corner of his being, fueling a primal hunger that clawed at his insides.

Their hands roamed over her feverishly, holding her down as they fed—Steve’s grip tight around her waist, Bucky’s fingers digging into her wrist, their mouths relentless as they drew more and more of that precious liquid from her. The blood gushed over their tongues, soaking their lips and chins, the scent of it filling the room with a heady sweetness that made them both groan.

Steve tore his mouth away from her shoulder, his lips and bearded chin smeared with crimson. He tilted his head back slightly, the blood dripping down his throat as he let out a low, breathless sound of satisfaction. The metallic tang lingered on his tongue, each taste making his eyes burn brighter, his gaze dropping back to the fresh wound with a predatory gleam.

Bucky’s teeth dug deeper into her wrist, his tongue lapping at the fresh flow of blood that oozed from the punctures, the sensation making Y/N’s body shudder violently.

“Fuck,” He pulled back slightly, his mouth slick and red, a faint trail of blood seeping down his chin. The scent of it was overwhelming, making his entire body hum with raw, unbridled hunger.

Steve let out a low moan, his body trembling with the force of his hunger as he bit down harder, the taste of her blood flooding his senses.

“More,” he muttered, his voice a low, desperate growl as he buried his face in her skin, fangs sinking in deeper, deeper.

“More,” Bucky echoed, his mouth descending on her again, his teeth scraping against her throat. He drank greedily, his body coiling tighter with every pull. “I need more.”

Y/N’s vision blurred, the room spinning around her as her body shuddered beneath them. She could feel her strength draining, her limbs growing heavy, but the pleasure was too much—too overwhelming. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t fight it. All she could do was gasp and moan as they devoured her, every bite, every pull of their mouths sending fresh waves of euphoria crashing through her.

“Buck, stop,” Steve growled suddenly, his voice low and fierce. He lifted his head, blood dripping from his lips as he glared at Bucky, his eyes blazing. “Stop, you’re going too far.”

Bucky ignored him, his mouth still latched onto her skin, his body trembling with need. “Just…” he muttered, his voice thick and slurred, like he was drunk on her blood. “Just a little more—”

“Enough,” Steve snarled, his patience snapping. He grabbed a fistful of Bucky’s hair and yanked him back with a force that made Bucky stumble, his head jerking back, blood splattering across the sheets. “I said enough!”

“What the hell, Steve?” Bucky snapped, a wild, feral look flashing in his eyes as he licked the blood from his lips. He didn’t look guilty or apologetic—instead, he looked like he wanted to rip Steve apart. “She’s mine to feed on too!”

“She’s losing color,” Steve snarled back, his voice a dangerous growl. He shifted, his body shielding Y/N from Bucky’s hungry gaze. “I won’t let you fucking kill her because you can’t control yourself.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, his chest heaving with labored breaths. He took a step back, eyes narrowed, but there was no hint of remorse in his gaze—only dark, simmering annoyance. “I wasn’t going to kill her.”

“Well, I’m not letting you drain her dry,” Steve snapped, his gaze flicking down to Y/N’s face. Her skin had taken on a ghostly pallor, her breaths coming in and out shallow. “She’s too weak. We’ll need her alive if we want to keep this fun.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a sneer, but he forced himself to take another step back, eyes lingering on the fresh bite marks marring Y/N’s throat.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

With one last glare at Steve, Bucky spun on his heel and stormed across the room, his movements sharp and agitated. Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked down at her, his gaze softening just a fraction.

Bucky turned back to face them, he brought his blood-stained fingers to his mouth, his gaze locked on Steve’s as he sucked the crimson liquid from his fingertips one by one. He hummed in satisfaction, the sound low and almost sensual, as he savored the taste of her on his tongue.

“Don’t act like you’re not thinking the same thing,” Bucky said, his voice a soft, dangerous drawl. He pulled his fingers free, licking his lips. “You felt it, didn’t you, Steve? How much more she can give?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at Y/N’s pale, still form. Covered with bite marks against her throat, forearm, wrists. She looked fragile, almost broken—but there was a faint rise and fall to her chest, proof that she was still hanging on. Barely.

“Don’t get sloppy, Bucky,” Steve muttered, his voice a low, dangerous growl. His fingers brushed over one of the deeper bite marks, smearing the blood there. He brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting the crimson streak with a flick of his tongue, a shudder running through him. “She’s not some plaything to bleed dry. I’m not interested in breaking her too quickly.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, a cruel smile curving his mouth. “Too quickly?” he echoed, his voice laced with amusement. “I see. You want to draw it out, don’t you? Take her bit by bit until she’s begging for death.”

Steve’s gaze flicked back to Bucky, a cold, mirthless smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe,” he murmured softly. “Or maybe I just want to keep her.”

Bucky’s eyes flared, he took a step closer, his gaze sliding back to Y/N’s face, lingering on the smear of blood on her lips, the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

“Most humans would’ve passed out by now… or died. But she’s still hanging on.” He leaned down, his fingers brushing against the bite mark at her throat, smearing the blood there. “It’s almost like she wants more.”

Steve’s smile widened, his gaze glittering with cruel amusement. “You think she can take more?”

“I know she can,” Bucky breathed, his gaze locked on the steady pulse fluttering weakly at her throat. He dipped his fingers into the blood pooling beneath her collarbone, his eyes hooded as he brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum.

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s movements, the way his tongue flicked over his fingers, savoring every drop.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice soft, a dangerous edge to his tone. “If you keep pushing, you’ll drain her completely.”

Bucky’s smile widened, a wicked, dangerous curve. “You really think she’s that easy to break?” He glanced at Y/N, his gaze dark and calculating. “Look at her, Steve. She’s not some fragile little human who’ll shatter at the first touch. She’s still here… still breathing.” He leaned down, his mouth brushing against the shell of her ear, his breath cool against her skin. “Still ours for the taking.”

Steve’s gaze darkened, his fingers digging into the sheets as he watched Bucky trail his tongue along the curve of Y/N’s neck, lapping up the blood there with a slow, almost languid motion. He let out a low, breathy sigh, his lips grazing her ear.

“Next time, darling,” Bucky whispered, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “I’d like to have you for myself.”

Steve’s eyes flared, his body tense, coiled tight with barely restrained hunger. He reached out, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and yanking him back with a vicious snarl. “Stop playing with your food, Bucky.”

Bucky straightened, his smile turning sharp and mocking. “Oh, so that’s how it is?” he murmured, his voice a soft, dangerous drawl. He glanced down at Y/N, his gaze lingering on the fresh bite marks, the bruises forming beneath her pale skin. “Afraid I’m going to break your little toy?”

Steve’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing. “She’s not yours alone to play with.”

Bucky’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Maybe not,” he murmured softly, his gaze flicking back to Y/N’s face. “But I’ll be damned if I let you have all the fun.”

With a low, mocking laugh, he wrenched his wrist free from Steve’s grip, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. He turned on his heel, his movements sharp and predatory as he made his way back to the door.

“Let her rest then. But the next time I get my hands on her, I’m going to see just how much she can really take.” He paused at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the pale, bloodstained form sprawled on the bed. “And I’m not going to stop… even if she begs.”

Steve watched him go, his gaze dark and simmering with barely restrained hunger. His eyes flicked back to Y/N’s face, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear in a whisper of a kiss.

“Rest up,” he whispered, his voice a soft, dangerous promise. “You’ll need it.”

And with that, Steve pushed off the bed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and strode out of the room, his steps silent, predatory.

The room fell into silence, the air still and heavy, the faint scent of blood lingering like a dark memory.

Y/N lay there, her body limp and drained, every nerve still singing with the lingering echo of pain and pleasure. Her mind swam in a haze, consciousness slipping in and out as darkness closed in around her.

But even as she drifted into the oblivion of sleep, a single thought lingered at the edge of her mind—an unspoken fear, a dark anticipation that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

They weren’t done.

And when they came back… she didn’t know if she’d survive it.

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