#but i really want to break my head open and watch the blood run down my wall.

[gutsby]

License to Kill

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marital bliss becomes a bloody massacre within hours of your wedding. Bucky has run the gamut of organized crime from gunrunning to public extortion, but an attempt on your life is a whole different ballgame. A honeymoon-turned-manhunt has Bucky out for blood.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Semi-public sex. Beefy, mob boss Bucky really wants to give you a baby. Praise kink. Size kink. Facefucking. Sex on a private jet. Attempted murder. Arms trafficking. Guerrilla warfare.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Any postnuptial banquet was bound to be the talk of Santorini when a groom arrived beaten half to death.

At least that was what you’d told yourself, what had plagued your mind for hours before the start of brunch, and what Bucky presently refused to acknowledge with so much as a bat of his eye or a word spoken in between.

“You worry too much,” he said as he sheathed himself inside you for the third time that morning.

Bucky seized your throat in one hand and tilted your chin to make sure you were capable of eye contact while he fucked you in front of the mirror. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that the face in his own reflection was bruised, bloodied, and sewn up like a patchwork quilt behind you.

Hazards of the job, he’d said.

Three masked assailants breaking into your villa the first night of honeymooning? Customary. Being yanked out of bed and made to kneel as your husband took the beating of a lifetime just minutes after consummating your marriage? More common than you would think.

Bucky hadn’t even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didn’t flinch when he was held to a wall and pummeled like a freestanding punch bag.

Almost smiled when he took a hard right hook to the nose and felt a torrent of blood flood out of his nostrils.

If anyone were to be accused of behaving too calmly in a home invasion, it would be Bucky Barnes. It seemed as though he’d seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadn’t so much as lifted a finger to fight back was still beyond your comprehension, though.

At length, he tightened his grip on your neck and tried to smile, his upper lip slashed in two and bruised a grim, violet hue.

“Who’s my girl?” he murmured an inch from your ear.

You whined when he delivered a particularly hard thrust, both of your hands flying to the mirror to steady yourself as he pounded you from behind.

“I-I am,” you whimpered.

The stretch was still something you were getting used to, but now Bucky knew just how to spread you open without making it hurt. He’d glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as you’d let him, rubbing quick circles while you bucked and moaned under his touch. And, in spite of all his cuts and bruises, your husband made sure to kiss your shoulder every now and then to let you know he still loved you—even if he was fucking you like he didn’t.

Bucky trailed his lips behind your ear and watched you writhe in time with every stroke he gave. Pressed his face close to yours, watched a desperate, fucked-out expression take over your features, and smiled to himself knowing that no one but him got to see you like this.

“Who likes getting stuffed full of this cock?” he taunted.

“I do.”

“Who loves making daddy feel this good?”

“I do.”

He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene way—his sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legs—but he loved it nonetheless.

Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like he’d never let go. Your climax was quickly coming close into view, and you felt your toes curl in the hardwood floor beneath them.

Suddenly, the chirp of a ringtone diverted your attention.

Bucky brought his phone to his ear as he continued to pound you mercilessly.

“Yeah, Steve?”

The mob boss’s business never took a break, it seemed.

“So what?”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

“Well, I’m plowing my wife right now, can it wait?”

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Bucky’s blunt choice of words. You saw his brow pinch behind you, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier, and in spite of the distraction, you sensed he was getting close too.

You yourself were right on the brink. Your gaze met Bucky’s in the mirror with a soft, pleading look, and before you knew it, your husband was bidding an abrupt farewell to his friend and chucking his phone to the side.

“Ready to cum for me, honey?”

You whimpered and nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, “Cum all over daddy’s cock.”

With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Bucky’s length, tears springing to your eyes as you closed them tight and moaned his name.

And, ever the cheeky fuck, Bucky leaned right in and kissed the sides of your face to collect all the moisture he could—‘Shit, honey, you taste as good as you look’—while he smirked. Would’ve grinned even bigger if he wasn’t so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldn’t keep from blowing his load just seconds after the last spasms of your orgasm. Bucky leaned over your torso and squeezed your body tight to his, fucking his cum deep inside you as far as it could possibly go.

For a few, dizzying moments, the man’s mind wandered to more primal thoughts of making it stick, knocking you up, and Bucky had to clench his jaw hard to suppress the groans that were threatening to spill through his teeth. Every time he fucked you, it was like something just clicked; he couldn’t rid the thought of giving you a baby.

But no, for now, the two of you were still on wedding time; before you could jet off to your real honeymoon destination—someplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctly—your mother had insisted that you host one post-wedding event that day: a brunch.

Naturally, that meant you were obliged to serve a four-course meal on the terrace of the Canaves Oia Hotel.

The mother of the bride had been one hell of a staunch advocate for keeping this wedding party going as long as possible, and who was Bucky to tell her no? He reasoned he would have plenty of time to get you pregnant after all the wedding festivities had ended, so he didn’t mind.

At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.

“I think you displaced my cervix, James.”

Bucky couldn’t deny he felt the smallest twinge of pride seeing you walk a little funny to collect the rest of your belongings and attempt to freshen up. It also gave him the perfect excuse to scoop you back up in his arms and pretend to be apologetic about your present dilemma.

“Did I really?” he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, “I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Like hell you are.”

With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, you’d barely made it two feet toward the door before you collapsed against a table and almost toppled a centerpiece. The pair of you would be expected outside any minute now, where the rest of your post-wedding party was likely trickling in and wondering where the hell the bride and groom had gone, but Bucky seemed adamant on keeping you to himself a little while longer.

That was until the back exit swung on its hinges and a familiar, frazzled groomsman stumbled in.

“Can you horndogs hurry the hell up?!”

So Sam had heard you after all.

You just might’ve blushed if you weren’t being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husband’s friend ringing low in your ears.

“Your old man’s ready to hit the roof,” he mumbled to Bucky, “Won’t start drinking until you two show face.”

“Probably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,” Bucky mused, flitting a look to you.

The man behind rolled his eyes and continued to usher you both outside. Sam Wilson knew exactly what had happened last night; he’d been the one to bring in the cavalry to save you both from imminent death, after all.

As you had come to find out, Sam wasn’t just a friend of your husband’s but also a close associate of sorts—the kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadn’t been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some ‘strange sounds’ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husband’s entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where they’d dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadn’t asked many questions after—just thanked him. Profusely.

“You look like hell,” the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friend’s direction.

“Really? I feel great,” Bucky replied.

The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoers—every single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husband’s mangled face as he passed—and you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell could’ve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.

“Ja-ames!” a sing-song voice trilled across the way.

You, Bucky, and Sam all stopped in your tracks to regard the duo that was making their swift approach over.

Bucky’s mom and dad.

As the older couple drew near, you half-expected to see them take on the same wan, horror-stricken look worn by all those around you, but to your surprise, they didn’t.

In fact, they didn’t bat an eyelid. Seeing their son’s face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.

“Good, you’re here! The photographers just arrived.” Bucky’s mother swept you into her arms for a brief embrace before shooting her son a frown. Your husband, in turn, offered her an apologetic peck on the cheek.

“Sorry, ma. We got caught up,” he said.

“Sure looks like it.”

That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.

“Get in a fight with a grizzly last night?” he quipped.

“Three, actually,” Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-ear—or as much as his facial lacerations would allow him.

You saw father and son exchange a brief, knowing look, before it was extinguished just as fast as it had come. Clearly, some sort of understanding had passed between them, and the old patriarch seemed pleased. Proud, even. You couldn’t begin to imagine why.

“The bruising shouldn’t be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,” Bucky’s mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.”

She spoke so coolly about the trauma done to her son it damn near chilled you to the bone. You never thought the wife of a mobster would be oblivious to all the violence, but to talk as though this were just another day in the life as far as brutal beatings went was a little unnerving.

You strolled along and silently wondered what the fuck was wrong with this family. Then you realized, slowly, that this was your family now. Your stomach twisted.

When you got to the garden where the photographers were stationed, you saw your parents waiting, enrapt.

And, in a matter of seconds, you watched their expressions morph from exuberance to confusion to outright trepidation. Your father was quick to look away, but your mother clearly couldn’t be bothered to stop ogling Bucky’s gruesome appearance. She forced a tight-lipped smile at the very last second and stretched her arms out to you as the five of you approached.

“You’re glowing, my dear.”

She hugged you and, over your shoulder, tried to mask a discomfited look.

Your mother and father exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group but seemed loath to linger on Bucky for more than a minute. Like they couldn’t quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.

“Places, people!”

The photographers were lined up like a flock of paparazzi. Each standing, crouching, squatting with their cameras in their hands, trying to get just the right angle.

The person in charge quickly busied herself with directing and adjusting every one of your positions before the pictures were taken. Telling Bucky’s father to straighten his tie, your mother to brighten her smile, the bride to tilt her shoulders just a little bit more, and Bucky, would you please stop groping your wife?

That last command had come from his mother, actually. Bucky had been palming your ass above your dress, and his mom couldn’t stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.

“My hand slipped,” Bucky retorted, much to the amusement of a few photographers.

You and his mother gave him identical admonitory looks, but it was you who was close enough to say something.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak, though, an odd sense stopped you on a dime.

There was a warmth. In your panties. Then a slow and silent oozing sensation. You squeezed your thighs tight together and, instinctively, lowered your hand to your stomach, as if that would have any chance of stopping it.

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.

“My cum dripping out already?” he whispered, low as he’d ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.

“Shut. Up.” You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.

“Chin to me, Mrs. Barnes,” the lady in charge called out.

You did as you were told, and Bucky’s hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.

A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.

“Think it’ll stay in your panties?” Bucky managed delicately under his breath.

You didn’t respond. At length, his seed was seeping out of your underwear. You bared an even brighter smile for the cameras and tried not to flinch when he squeezed you again.

“Feel it sliding down your thighs?”

“Eyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, and—here, please.”

The man could barely peel his gaze, much less his hands, from your body. He stroked your hip with his thumb. Then, without warning, that same hand slid down to your rear and pushed into the fabric. You sucked in a breath.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“Behave,” you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you could’ve sworn you saw your mother turn her head.

Unfortunately for you, your husband would do no such thing. He just moved his hand even lower down your back and brushed the space around that spot with the tips of his fingers. You felt a shiver pass over you, along with a whole legion of goosebumps spreading fast across the skin.

If you weren’t on camera and surrounded by family, you probably would’ve liked to smack him upside the head.

As the cameras continued to fire away, Bucky’s touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.

“Now just the bride and groom!”

The rest of your family members stepped to the side, and it was only you and Bucky before the cameras now. Still smiling like bright, shiny dolls and communicating like ventriloquists, your lips barely moved as you spoke.

“How ‘bout I push it back in?”

“Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Now kiss!”

At the direction of the lead photographer, you kissed your husband and felt a mixture of lust, hate, and love swell up inside of you. When you pulled apart, it was the latter of these three that was searing hot in your veins.

“I love you,” Bucky murmured with a grin.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashion—being pulled from place to place, person to person, while your filthy-minded husband kept whispering in your ear all the depraved things he was planning to do to you once he got you alone. It was romantic, in a way; just terrible for your poor panties.

You reluctantly mingled and laughed with some of the most boring people you thought you’d ever met in your life—though perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisal—and gradually, family and friends pulled you and Bucky further and further apart until you were just being carted around like show dogs and forced to hold the same conversation over and over again.

“You look stunning.”

“Buck’s a lucky guy, I’ll tell you that.”

“Are you planning on having kids any time soon?”

You just smiled, nodded, and didn’t have the guts to tell them that Bucky’s baby batter was baking inside you right now. That would’ve been a fun one to watch the reactions from your uptight, intrusive relatives, though.

And speaking of Bucky, where the fuck had he gone?

Just twenty minutes ago he’d sworn he would have you bent over one of the hotel balconies overlooking the Aegean Sea, and now he was nowhere to be found.

Your parents were currently preoccupied with their second helpings of spanakopita, your in-laws draining mojitos like water, and Sam, like Bucky, completely MIA. No one else had seen hide nor hair of your husband in a little while, and frankly, your legs were growing tired of looking.

You let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Bucky sitting a ways away on the terrace with Sam and Steve huddled on either side of him. They looked to be deep in discussion.

Steve, Stevie, Rogers, or, simply, your husband’s second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Bucky’s face.

You decided to let the three of them hash it out and to take a rain check on that balcony rendezvous for now.

At any rate, a pack of Pall Malls was calling your name.

You would fully concede this was a filthy habit you never should have started—like most fun things in life—but the reprieve of a nicotine buzz was too tempting to refuse. You grabbed your clutch and took off toward the far end of the lawn, set for a small alcove apart from the party.

You slipped the lighter and cigarettes from your bag as you walked. The scent of pure salt and sea foam greeted your senses as soon as you drew close to the spot—less than a stone’s throw away from the ocean.

Your hands had jammed the cancer stick in your mouth before your mind could make a single word of protest. You brought the lighter to life in your right palm and raised the flame to your cigarette until the end was lit.

Then you inhaled. Exhaled. Hoped no one would see you. You fanned the smoke from your face every so often.

You’d taken up residence on a bench just shy of the beach, and finally, you could stretch your legs and rest.

Maybe indulge in some disgusting thoughts about your husband while you were at it.

If you’d told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Bucky’s touch, you wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably would’ve told them they were full of shit. But here you were, splayed out on a bench by the shoreline thinking of nothing but the way your husband’s cock felt inside you. Feeling his seed dried on your thigh and aching for a fourth helping.

You felt pathetic. Maybe you were.

In any case, you didn’t really care.

You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When you’d plucked it back out, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky! Your lust-addled brain all but squealed.

You turned much quicker than you meant and nearly jumped in your skin to see who was standing there.

A grinning, bright-eyed blond.

In a panic, you flicked your cigarette over your shoulder and forced a smile.

“Hi.”

“Howdy.”

Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.

“No need to stop on my account,” he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, “I won’t snitch.”

His smile took on a shade of condescension, but the face seemed friendly enough. Then, to your surprise, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved something small and silver from it. He held it out to you.

“Courtesy of your husband,” he said.

You frowned. A flask?

“It’s not even noon,” you answered.

“Bucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it don’t seem they’re fixin’ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.”

Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.

“Fuckin’ A,” you coughed, “What’s this, nail polish remover?”

“Stolichnaya. Can’t talk shit until you’ve tried it.”

Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the man’s outstretched arm again—this time, to shake your hand.

“Joey, by the way.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.

“You’re a friend of my husband’s?” you asked.

“From the service, yeah. We go way back.”

You couldn’t help but raise both brows in question.

“The service,” you repeated.

“Russian Armed Forces,” Joey smiled.

And when the hell did Bucky plan on telling you he was a former foreign operative? You stared at the man before you in a medley of confusion and disbelief. Surely the thick Southern drawl had to mean he was joking.

“Sorry—I thought you knew,” he said sheepishly.

Your husband’s old comrade seemed genuinely contrite, blushing a shade of pink as he turned his gaze from you. You quickly regained your composure and flashed him a smile, insisting it was fine, just surprising to you is all.

“Perks of arranged marriage,” you said, “We’re wed for life and I don’t even know the guy’s job title.”

That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasn’t smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.

“You mind?”

“Not at all.”

You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When he’d taken a seat, you offered it to him, and he politely accepted.

With time, the two of you got to smoking and joking around with a little more ease. You didn’t normally get to see that happen—rarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangers—but this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Bucky’s old friend possibly do?

You found the man to be quick-witted and charming, if not marred by the slightest stain of conceit under the surface. He was objectively handsome: all cool, clean features with an unblemished demeanor and a set of brown eyes so light they almost appeared the color of honey in the sun. The only imperfection to be detected was a skewed, razor-thin scar on his chin. You weren’t ashamed to admit he might’ve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naïveté, earlier. But you had Bucky now; not even the most sublime, finely-chiseled Adonis could set your sights off of him.

You continued to smoke and shoot the shit.

“So you’re a Puritan, then?” Joey said at length.

“Huh?” You leaned back to stretch.

“You haven’t touched that flask.”

You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.

“Haven’t been into straight liquor since college,” you shrugged.

“But it’s your wedding weekend,” Joey smirked, “Think it says somewhere in the rule book you’ve gotta be hammered the whole time.”

“Does it? I must’ve missed that one,” you hummed.

Rather than answer you verbally, Bucky’s old friend opted to snag the flask from your fingers and unscrew the top himself. Made an unusually bold move and took your chin in his other hand.

“Open.”

“No!”

You bared a tight smile to be polite, but inside, you were more than a little put off by his behavior. Maybe this was some stupid rite of passage into their ‘brotherhood.’ You had to assume he was just being friendly.

“C’mon. Quit bitchin’ and open up,” he chuckled, pinching your face even tighter.

That left an even more sour taste in your mouth. You jerked your head to the left and were just about to inform the man it’d cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.

“Honey? Hon, you there?”

Immediate relief at hearing your husband’s voice.

You craned your neck to look around.

“I’m here, Bucky!” You waved an arm to try and get his attention, wherever he was.

It took him a second, but shortly, he appeared on the other side of some trees. He had a stern, if not slightly sallow, look on his face as he made his way over.

You turned back to Joey but found that he’d vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.

“Bucky, I just—”

“We need to go,” your husband cut in.

His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.

“Go wh—”

“Now, baby, please. I’ll tell you in the car.”

Your face dropped.

“We’re leaving?”

Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as you’d ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.

“Whole fuckin’ swarm of ‘em now,” he pronounced.

Bucky didn’t wait to hear another word. He just grabbed your hand and joined his friend sprinting back up the lawn. You could barely keep apace with their steps and, still clinging to Bucky, almost tripped and stumbled.

“Get the fuck up,” Steve spat.

You tensed. For a second, your feet scarcely moved of their own accord as you trailed behind Bucky and felt a stabbing feeling in your gut. Bucky’s best man had surely been a little rough around the edges before, but never this needlessly cruel. What did you do?

Your husband delivered an uncharacteristically gruff shove to the man’s shoulder and made sure he felt it.

“Don’t you start this shit again,” he said, “Lay off.”

Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotel’s perimeter. You glanced to the throngs of partygoers still scattered along the veranda and saw similar looks of disquiet and alarm all around.

Just when a dozen different questions of what was going on, where were they taking you, and why the fuck did everyone look so afraid bubbled to the tip of your tongue, a thunderous sound brought you to a standstill.

At the opposite end of the plaza, a cluster of tents, tables, and catering stations all splintered apart in a single, headlong explosion. A bright red column of fire shot up toward the sky, and following its ascent rose a wave of shrill and horrified screams alongside it. A barrage of gunfire rained over the crowd, and before you could even spare a look toward its source, Bucky yanked you flat on the ground. Your hands and knees were shredded across pavement, had less than a second to register the pain, and were shortly made to snake along concrete and glass toward the garden down below.

You crawled, then crouched, then bounded down the lawn following Bucky and Steve like a bat out of hell. Another explosion sounded nearby—this time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all over—and whole droves of people just dropped. Facedown in the grass and covered in glass. Bucky clamped your hand in his own with a force that could’ve snapped it in two, but you didn’t blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.

“Here!” Steve called presently.

He caught sight of a jet black sedan at the edge of the lawn and held a hand up to Bucky. A set of keys were promptly pelted into his grasp, and the three of you closed in on the car, quick, without another word.

Bucky tore the back door open and practically flung you inside. He primed himself to climb in right after, when a set of footsteps and a shout held him locked in place.

“Hangar’s clear.”

Sam, by the sound of it.

He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadn’t gotten the back door so much as halfway shut before the engine roared to life and the car lurched ahead. Not thinking, you grabbed hold of a seatbelt, but Bucky was quick to pull you in and jerk you down.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting then, but it certainly wasn’t your husband’s weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.

This wasn’t the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didn’t hold you tight in his arms or cradle your head to his chest. He just draped the weight of his whole body over yours and begged you strenuously not to move or make a sound. By the looks of it, too, the car was tearing up the turf of the lawn and anything else that happened to cross its path; there was no rhyme or reason to Steve’s driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.

Minutes, seconds, sights, and sounds—or what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered position—all bled together in a haze. Your pulse leapt and throbbed between your ears, and little more could be heard above that sound apart from the thrum of Bucky’s own heart, the thunder of gunfire, and the wail of sirens, coming low and faint and far too late to make much difference now.

You pressed your nose to the floor and got a dizzying whiff of nylon and bleach. Would’ve like to retch but gritted your teeth instead, lying in silence and wondering without humor if the splinters, the soot, or the blood would be hardest to wash out of your white satin dress.

The price of admission to board Bucky’s Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be ‘pregnant.’

You’d been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangar—a place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparently—and had been carried onto a jet. You didn’t squirm or protest, just hung limply in their arms and let them tend to you however they needed.

After all, you looked like fucking Carrie White on prom night: coated in blood and stiff as a board. Sitting with a thousand-yard stare and a frozen, muted expression as you tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.

You watched Bucky kneel down in front of you and hardly saw him at all. You sensed him stroke your hair but felt it from a place somewhere far outside your body. Bizarre was an understatement. All you could do was blink.

“It’s not— not her blood, is it?” your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.

“Some of it,” one nurse answered quietly.

Aw, hell. Bucky squatted on the floor and slotted himself between your knees, trying to get as close as possible so he could make you say something, even just see him. One of the attendants raised a warning look and placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off in a second.

“She’s not looking at me,” Bucky’s lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, “Honey, I’m here— I’m right h—”

“She’s in shock.” Another voice came flatly.

Sure, shock works. In truth, your mind was floating somewhere even higher than the 43,000 feet the plane had ascended, and your brain had gone as soft as a clump of cotton candy in the rain. You couldn’t speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.

“She looks like death warmed over.”

Thank you, Steve.

Off to the side in a plush, leather seat of his own, the man nursed a scotch on the rocks and frowned. Bucky didn’t have the strength to throw a punch or a pillow at his head and instead said only to shut the fuck up, man.

Your husband turned to the nurses again.

“She’s pregnant.”

I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.

“No, she’s not, Buck,” Sam said from down the aisle.

“Well, she could be,” Bucky chided, “We’ve been going at it like rabbits since the—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you weren’t currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably would’ve done the same.

Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you were—or very well could be—carrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? She’s my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses weren’t all on Bucky’s payroll they probably would’ve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isn’t pregnant, even if you think your sperm is ‘built different’ than most.

“She’ll be fine either way,” the medic on your left said, stifling a chuckle. Wondering if the man had ever taken a sex ed class in his years of prudish, private education.

Bucky wasn’t convinced. Against all physicians’ wishes, he climbed up beside you in the seat and pulled you into his lap with both arms wrapped around your waist.

By turns, the world was coming back into focus for you. You met Bucky’s gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.

“See? See? She’s back.” Bucky squeezed your hip—and immediately released it when you winced.

“Mind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.”

Your caregivers pro tempore shot your husband a couple wry looks as they packed their supplies and started to leave, getting the sense that their boss wasn’t going to stop badgering them, or you, anytime soon. That worked just fine for Bucky, because then he would get to hold you any way that he liked, as long as you’d let him.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as thrilled.

Sam watched the medics’ departure with a wary look.

“She probably needs to rest, Bucky,” the latter said, careful with his words.

Bucky’s eyes never strayed from yours.

“She’s okay, Sam. She’s good.” Perhaps speaking more to himself than anyone else. Steve shifted in his seat.

In your periphery, Mr. Wilson was approaching with a glass in his hand. You turned your head, and Bucky accepted the cup of water for you.

“Feelin’ alright?” Sam asked.

You tried to nod, but your husband was already cradling your head like a baby, urging you to take your first sip.

A spate of water splashed down the front of your dress. You shot Bucky a look as he hastily tried to dry it.

“She’s not a child, Barnes,” Steve muttered.

“Should probably keep that elevated,” Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, “We’ll get some ice.”

Sam tilted his head again, this time to motion to Steve. His friend pretended not to see him, and then Bucky was back on his feet, keen as ever,

“I’ll go.”

He kissed the top of your head and assured you he’d be right back. He’d just started off toward the door, when Sam hesitated. He flitted a quick look between you and Steve and looked like he wanted to say something, but Bucky was already ushering him out of the room.

When you turned to Steve, you understood why.

The man had you pinned with a stare that could’ve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.

You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.

“Something wrong?”

You weren’t sure how you’d even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.

“You tell me.” Tone dripping with disdain.

You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suit—muddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than you’d seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldn’t shake.

What had you done to piss him off so much? Shit in his cornflakes? Step on his toe? Had he seen you with Joey and jumped to the worst possible conclusion? You sincerely couldn’t make sense of the man’s indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,

“We should’ve left you to die with the rest of your family.”

Your jaw slackened a bit.

“What?”

“You, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you should’ve stayed there to rot.”

Never mind the fact that he’d just wished you dead to your face—what did he mean about your parents?

“But they’re coming with us. Bucky said,” you managed.

“He did?” Steve grinned humorlessly, “He lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

That sent the first real wave of fear pulsing through you. You slowly rose to your feet but, feeling yourself restrained by the makeshift IV line stuck in your skin, you stopped. You plucked the needle out of your arm.

“What are you talking about?”

You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.

“What? That wasn’t part of the plan?” he quirked a brow, “Didn’t think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking family—”

You hardly even noticed you’d swatted Steve’s drink out of his hand until the glass went shattering on the floor. You blinked and raised a shaky, bruised finger about an inch from his face.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Your jaw was clenched so tight you had to speak through your teeth.

Steve was beaming.

The door to the room flew open, and Bucky and Sam strolled in with their ice packs and pillows. They stopped when they saw the glass on the floor and your figure looming over Steve.

“You picked a real spitfire, Buck,” the blond called out, his hands raised in surrender as he smiled up at you.

Bucky seemed more surprised that you were able to stand, much less take that menacing stance over his friend, and he quickly tried to guide you back to your seat. You wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?” You tried to shake your husband off as Steve’s grin grew even bigger.

“They’re fine, honey. Sit down, please,” Bucky mumbled.

“No! He said they were dead!” you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why don’t you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rogers,” Sam uttered quietly.

“Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing, your parents are fine,” Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, James,” you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, “What’s going on?”

“Either she’s a world-class actress or she really doesn’t have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.” Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You would’ve liked to knock back one or two—or ten—yourself.

You turned on your heels to face Bucky. At the moment, he seemed torn between imparting a death black stare on Steve and a placating, apologetic one to you. The tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Baby—” He reached for you, but you pulled back.

“No.”

You wouldn’t ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoil—and perhaps by some painful truths he’d be compelled to share as well—and he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.

Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.

“Why’d you marry him?” Steve said suddenly.

Bucky’s face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,

“Because my dad was in debt.”

“For what?”

You paused.

“Real estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.”

Steve nodded. Ignored Bucky’s sharp, reproachful gaze.

“And how much money did he owe?” he asked.

“Steve,” Sam warned.

“Four, five million—more than he could ever repay.”

This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.

“You’re forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you don’t even know the price that tight little body’s paying?” he scoffed.

His words hadn’t hung in the air for much longer than a second before Bucky decked him, shoving him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. A splash of whiskey was quick to join the bloodstains adorning Steve’s tux, and the pile of broken glass on the floor grew even bigger. The man hardly flinched when Bucky shoved his head to the end table.

“Say it again.” Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.

“She should’ve known!” Steve snapped anyway.

You shared a brief look with Sam but found his expression inscrutable. He kicked a few shards of glass with the toe of his shoe.

“I wasn’t exactly in a place to negotiate,” you grumbled, “They were going to kill my father if we didn’t settle it, so I wasn’t all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.”

If he could go low, you would go lower. Fuck him.

You saw Steve grin through a freshly busted lip and straighten himself back into a seated position. He wiped the blood with the pad of his thumb while Bucky seemed to contemplate swinging again. The look in your eye cautioned him against it.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his words—ones that wouldn’t prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throat—and looked to you, curious,

“Why would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?”

You shrugged.

“He’s a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldn’t fork over that kind of cash.”

Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Bucky’s expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.

“What?” you spat, “Did I say something funny?”

Sam shook his head slowly, starting, “I don’t think—”

“Your daddy’s a fucking gunrunner, sugar,” Steve wheezed, “Head of a multinational arms trafficking syndicate—motherfucker is not selling houses.”

Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldn’t let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.

“And how the fuck would you know?” you said to Steve.

“We work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,” Sam answered.

“And the man is horseshit at business”—Steve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attention—“He was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.”

“James?” You finally turned to him.

“And your daddy didn’t even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,” Steve sneered.

“James,” you pressed again.

You couldn’t understand why your husband refused to speak—going as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.

“HYDRA as in— the Russian mob?” you asked him.

“No, the Girl Scouts,” Steve huffed, “Yes, the mob.”

“Schröder’s boys. Your dad’s been in business with them for years—owed them a lot of money,” Sam added.

“And your dad and Bucky’s dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured he’d do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.” Steve seemed eager to tell this story.

All the while, the hue of Bucky’s cheeks grew even deeper—like he didn’t want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldn’t stand down until you’d heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.

“Then why’d he need me? Just another bartering chip?” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “A pawn?”

“A peace offering,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.

“Your father didn’t owe me anything. I would’ve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted I— that we marry. He wanted an alliance no subsequent financial incentive could disrupt. He would take the money I gave him, pay HYDRA, and bow out of any future dealings with them. Our marriage was supposed to guarantee that.”

Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.

“That was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided he’d have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,” Steve said.

“At the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Bucky’s warehouses in Brooklyn,” Sam continued, “Only problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.”

“So Schröder paid him a visit today,” Bucky muttered.

Without realizing it, you found yourself sinking into the nearest seat and bringing a hand to lay flat on your stomach. You felt sick. More than woozy, truthfully. Your head was spinning and your stomach was twisting something terrible, as if you’d just ingested cyanide.

Fuck, did you need a drink.

You couldn’t look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.

You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joey’s flask.

And, bloodlusting mobsters and outlaws be damned, the Russians knew how to make the hell out of some vodka. A single sniff of the stuff told you this was exactly what you would need to cope with your current situation.

“So you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?” you asked, “You honestly th—FUCK!”

Bucky lunged for the flask in your hand before you could take a single pull. He snatched it away in the blink of an eye and shot you a look.

“Liquor? For our baby?” he barked.

You audibly groaned and were just about to tell him that his understanding of human reproduction was a crock of shit when you stopped. You saw his expression change.

“Where did you get this?” Bucky asked, suddenly pale.

“You, dumbass!”

“Me?”

Bucky was presently passing the flask around to his friends, who were eyeing a spot on the bottom of the container with shared looks of alarm.

“Your friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,” you said.

All three men looked up at once.

“What friend?” Sam asked.

“Joey,” you answered, “Bucky’s friend from the army.”

If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin might’ve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.

Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.

“What friend from the army? What’d he look like?”

You were still scanning Bucky’s face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,

“I-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.”

“Tall fella?” Steve asked.

“Very.”

“Have a German accent?” Sam pressed.

“No, a real thick Southern accent,” you shook your head. It didn’t occur to you then that it could’ve been fake.

You were about to turn your attention back to Bucky, brow still knit in confusion, when a vague memory crossed your mind. You looked up at Sam and Steve.

“He had a—” You tapped your chin lightly, “—a little scar right here.”

You would’ve thought you’d just announced you had a bomb strapped to your ass the way the three men reacted. Each wore identical looks of disbelief and muted horror, exchanging looks between themselves as if they’d just discovered the Atlantic Ocean—and found the Loch Ness Monster lurking somewhere underneath.

Bucky looked the worst out of all of them. His face had drained of all expression and color as he stared at you.

“Joey?” he intoned feebly.

“Yes,” you answered—feeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.

Fortunately, Sam wouldn’t let you wallow in ignorance.

“Johann Schröder,” he supplied in a second, “The man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.”

Steve held the flask in his grasp for you to see the bottom, where a skull with six tentacles was engraved. Then he tipped the canister into a glass he’d taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.

“Looks to be a serum of his,” Steve said, hollow as you’d ever heard him, “Kind of like…roofies.”

“You didn’t drink any of it, did you?” Sam asked.

“Nuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uh— to pour it in my mouth.”

A beat of silence gripped the room.

Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someone’s skull. Or both.

Still, he wouldn’t speak to you.

The inside of your head was throbbing.

You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steve’s eye when he’d suspected you of being a traitor the first time around; this cloyingly sympathetic gaze he was giving you now had to be the most maddening thing. He and Sam both looked on at you like you were a victim. Like you were something to be pitied, or coddled, or left to the capable hands of your husband—a motherfucker who couldn’t even speak so much as a syllable to you.

You felt a pressure build, then swell, then peak between your temples, and you wanted to wince but couldn’t stand the thought of looking weak in front of them.

Then your nose started to bleed.

That, at least, woke Bucky from his reverie as he fumbled around for a napkin and helped you to your feet. He looped an arm around your waist and led you off to the bathroom, his grip tightening on your frame with every step you took.

In two minutes flat, you were flooded with fifteen feet of toilet paper and tissues. Bucky cupped the back of your head in one of his broad, warm palms and kept it plastered there as he instructed you to hold it, honey, hang on, I can grab a few extra rolls right here and guided you toward a private area at the back of the plane.

You could scarcely see above the bunched up wads of Charmin Ultra Strong pressed close to your nose, but you trusted Bucky wouldn’t lead you astray. You felt the welcome touch of a bed underneath you, and then your husband was helping you settle in amongst the pillows and the blankets and the rose petals that had been scattered around before—not entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonetheless—and slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying he’d be right back with those ice packs.

You reached for his hand before he could leave.

“I don’t want it,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, “Want you to talk to me, James.”

Bucky’s brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I am— I’m talking to you right now, honey, I—”

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.

“I don’t want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,” he said simply.

“Why not?”

“You’re not in the right place to hear it.”

You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.

“We’re on a plane. Fleeing Greece. After you got curb-stomped in our honeymoon suite, our post-wedding brunch was bombed by the Russian mob, I was almost drugged by their leader, and my parents are probably as good as dead, if not being held for ransom, as we speak. Please tell me a better place to have this conversation.”

Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.

“Okay.”

Infuriating.

“Okay?” you snapped, “We could’ve died five times today and all you can say is okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fuck this guy. You wiped your nose and stood up too.

Bucky tried to nudge you back onto the bed, wary of the ever-growing number of bumps, bruises, and nosebleeds afflicting your body. He tensed when you nudged him right back.

“I need to see my family,” You stood firm, “As soon as we land wherever it is we’re going, I’m on the first flight back to New York—or wherever they are.”

You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky returned.

“What? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Yes, I will.”

The worst part was he wasn’t even smug about it. Just calm and self-assured. You flung your tissues to the side and threw your hands up in exasperation, feeling the need to step away from him and start pacing the room. The man’s reticence was grating on your nerves.

“Why bother, Buck?” you snorted, “It’s not like I’m even your wife, really. I’m just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?”

You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Bucky’s chest. You looked up to find him frowning.

“Don’t say that again,” he glowered down at you.

Unlike most times before, you didn’t flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didn’t let him win.

“I’m not your wife,” you repeated, “We may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.”

You ignored Bucky’s evident desire to grab hold of something of yours and side-stepped easily, expanding the gap between you two as much as you could. It was almost amusing to see him not in control for once, and floundering to recover what semblance of it he could.

“You are my wife,” he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, “Everything I do now is for you—it’s not a goddamn game to me.”

“You used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” Bucky said, “But I love you.”

“You met me yesterday, motherfucker!”

You could feel another bloody nose rising in your bones. You turned around, swiped your lip with the back of your hand and were surprised to see nothing there. You waited for the bleeding to start back up again. When you turned, Bucky had closed the distance between you and was holding something in his hand.

Before you could protest, he was smoothing the thing over your face—apparently he’d grabbed a washcloth and dampened it—and laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.

“Is it so hard to believe that I love you?” he asked quietly.

He was trying hard to placate you, but his actions were having just the opposite effect. You let him wipe the blood from your face but watched him begrudgingly.

“You want someone to control, Bucky,” you said, “Love is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.”

Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You weren’t finished.

“You look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch over— who can’t take care of themse—”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not what a ‘good little wife’ is to you?” you retorted.

At last, Bucky tossed the hand towel to the side and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped toward the dresser, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“That’s a— a bit I do when I’m horny. I don’t actually want you subservient to me,” he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.

“So holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?” you quizzed.

“To keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. I’m sorry I don’t want to see you butchered because of me,” Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You despised the indignation in your tone but couldn’t help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tie—just like the night before—and, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, brow furrowed.

“Last night,” you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, “And today. Tonight. You’re as still as the fucking grave and won’t say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.”

You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky objected.

“You’re doing it right now! You wouldn’t tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who could’ve— hurt me. You didn’t say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe we’re in this together? That you’re trying to keep me safe? You couldn’t even—” you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a little—“couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!”

Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.

“I had to do that,” he snapped.

He threw his tie to the floor and started to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. The sight of his broad, veiny forearms were only visible to you for a second before he headed toward the closet, peeling off bits and pieces of his ensemble as he walked.

“You didn’t do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didn’t even try to fight back.”

Bucky had just muscled his way out of the confines of his dress shirt, leaving him in a tight, plain white tee. He turned to you with what seemed like the most pointed look of disdain.

“You think I wanted to do that?!” he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.

“You were too chickenshit. Didn’t wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,” you seethed.

Your husband looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall and pummel it several times over. Seemed like he did, anyway. In truth, he didn’t move—just watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.

“I’m chickenshit?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Coward,” you spat.

“Too much of a coward to keep you safe?”

“Precisely.”

At long last, you saw Bucky smile. It was the tightest, most humorless grin that had ever crossed his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. He raised a hand over your head and bracketed his arm against the wall so he was leaning over you. Not meant to intimidate per se, but the sight of that smirk was unnerving, to say the least.

“Did you hear what language they spoke?” he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.

“It sounded like—”

“Russian, that’s right,” Bucky cut in, “Do you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?”

You swallowed and said nothing. Bucky’s breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your body—you weren’t sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.

“They told me, ‘If you move, we’ll kill her,’” Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, “‘If you fight, we’ll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.’ Or something to that effect.”

The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Bucky’s head by the roots of his hair and beating him over and over and over, threatening your life if he made a single move to stop it.

“Bucky—” you started.

“I know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.”

Your husband’s grin had transformed into something more of a crooked, downcast grimace, just baring his teeth as he tried not to lose his composure. Guilt flooded his face.

“I know I should’ve told you then. And after. I should’ve told you about your father as soon as Steve’s informant told us. I just—” Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldn’t meet your gaze—“I didn’t want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.”

It was like a blade had just twisted in your stomach. Your throat ached. You wanted to touch him but were almost too scared to ask. He looked so fragile.

“I am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you could’ve been unfortunate enough to marry.” For a moment, Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, “But that’s not how I’m supposed to love you—or going to love you.”

You weren’t sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.

“I’ve been a shit husband, fake or not. I’m sorry.”

Fake husband maybe, but the look on his face was intractably authentic. Palpable. He blinked as though trying to clear the warm and heady feelings from his expression—suddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted there—and focused instead on a few stray strands of hair that had blown over your face. He got very invested in those, all of a sudden.

While your husband stroked the corners of your face and fixed his gaze away from yours, you felt the smallest prick of warmth spark within you. Bucky looked soft and serene and sincere in his apology, defenseless now as he grazed his knuckles over your cheek and said it again,

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

He paired his apology with a rapid succession of little kisses pressed to your forehead, moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

You wanted to touch him, too. You almost felt as though you didn’t know how.

So you stood there and accepted his affections and tried to nod your head when he asked if you were alright, were you hurting any, baby? You leaned into the gentle pressure of his fingertips taking stock of every cut and bruise you’d sustained over the course of that day, watched Bucky’s brow furrow with each new discovery, and tried not to let his touch stray far down your body.

You wanted to be the one with your hands on him—now more than ever.

When Bucky’s hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didn’t think much of it, just smiling down as tender as he always did, when your lips really grazed over the skin. You pressed a kiss to his finger and wordlessly urged him to move it further. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be at a loss for what to do as you took the tip of his thumb between your lips and suckled it, gently.

“Honey,” he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warning—what were you trying to do?

You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.

“You can’t…” Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didn’t want to see you strain yourself any further.

But whatever pain this might cause was ancillary to you; you curled your tongue around the digit and moaned lightly.

The taste of one finger alone was enough to send you into a frenzy. That and the fact that he had been so open and honest and attentive to your needs made every bone in your body want to jump his. Something about a man taking accountability for his actions and communicating them in a way that didn’t intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Bucky’s efforts all the same.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.

“You worry too much, Mr. Barnes.”

The echo of his words from earlier—the ones he’d said as he was railing you against a mirror—made Bucky’s cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, bunny,” he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.

“Hurt me how?”

You really hadn’t meant to sound like such a tease when you’d said it, but it was hard not to come across that way when you were watching him like that.

And sinking to your knees, with your eyes glued on his.

Bucky sucked in a breath as you kneeled between his feet and nudged the seam of his pants with your nose. He felt so big against your face, you almost couldn’t fathom how he’d fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly he’d gotten hard—as if the two of you weren’t just having a heart-to-heart a second ago—and you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.

“You know I don’t mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,” you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Bucky’s mind.

You heard him stifle a groan when you ghosted your lips over the bulge in his pants and felt him swell even more. Your mouth watered at the sound, the sensation, the raw anticipation of what was to come and knowing that you got to dictate what happened. You undid the button and the zip of his pants and damn near drooled at the sight.

Even confined to his boxers, Bucky looked fucking huge.

Suddenly, you began to understand how needy he had been the night before when he’d first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadn’t so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Bucky grunted as he planted a hand on the wall in front of him. You kissed the outline of his clothed erection and earned a full-throated groan.

Well, that makes two of us, you wanted to say but were too busy palming him through his boxers to utter a word. Soaking in the sight of him with every sweet, soft groan he made and wanting to be the reason for even more.

“Can I take you in my mouth, daddy?” you asked softly.

Bucky flattened his palm against the wall and nodded. Beyond words as you worked him out of his boxers.

For one, fleeting moment, you almost wanted to walk back your big talk when his cock sprung out of the fabric. You really hadn’t seen his length at all last night—too busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good look—but holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You weren’t sure if it was just the nerves of this being your first time giving head or if Bucky truly was that massive, but you felt your courage start to crumble before your eyes.

My husband is hung like a fucking horse and I’ve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.

Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didn’t notice the apprehension in your expression. After all, you were moving your lips down his cock and seizing the base of him with what looked like excitement.

Should I…lick it first?

It seemed you would have to learn all of this on the job. You stuck your tongue out and ran it up the length of his shaft.

When Bucky groaned in response, you sensed that that was okay. You pressed a few kisses on the underside of his member and scrambled to think of what else to do.

“Fuck, baby,” your husband let out the most guttural sound as you squeezed his length in your hand. Then, to your surprise, he seized a fistful of your hair between his fingers and rutted his hips, pushing the head of himself against your lips, “Take me in your mouth.”

You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do this—you’d be fine.

Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and Bucky gripped your hair even tighter. Let out a deep, satisfied moan like this was exactly what he needed. You liked that noise and wanted to take him even further.

What you didn’t expect was four more inches shoved inside your mouth before you could stop to take a breath.

The whole girth of his cock made a sharp intrusion, causing your cheeks to stretch and hollow out around him. The head of his member barely grazed the back of your throat, and still, you gagged. And not only gagged but choked, as though someone had just tried to scrub your tonsils with a fine-bristle toothbrush. Unfortunately for you, Bucky’s dick did not taste like spearmint.

He pulled his cock out as quickly as he’d pushed it in.

“Sorry. Shit, sorry.” Bucky blinked twice to get out of that blissed-out headspace and shot you a sheepish look.

The man had rarely been obliged to slow down or take five when his old, ever-changing flavors of the night sucked him off before—most blew him without trouble. But you, kneeling there batting your lashes through a few more tears than expected, seemed uncertain. Even half of his shaft made for a tight fit in your mouth, Bucky thought with some guilty feelings of arousal. He watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand and frown.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby,” Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.

Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.

You raised a brow.

“Why? That all you got, Barnes?”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle—and grunt, a little—when you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.

“Honey, are you s—”

He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.

“My mouth isn’t made of paper mâché. You can fuck it a little harder than that,” you said, running your touch down his length while holding his gaze. You looked eager.

Before Bucky could respond, you took the tip of his cock between your lips. Flattened your tongue and glided your mouth down as far as it could go before your cheeks started to hurt—then bobbed your head even further. One of your husband’s hands made a fist in your hair while the other scraped the wall, and you could tell it was taking some serious effort not to rut his hips out of habit.

Be gentle, be gentle, your dick barely fits in her mouth—

“—fucking hell you feel good,” he groaned.

Bucky took one look and could have cum on the spot.

It was one thing to feel you licking and sucking and stretching to accommodate his length, and another thing entirely to see you knelt in front of him with the world’s sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. You’d nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomen—and looked so pretty doing it.

Bucky fucking loved it. And you. And fucking you, your face, any place he could fit himself, quite frankly. He stared down at you struggling to take his cock and felt a strange new wave of desire pulsing through his body.

“You like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?”

“Barely fits but you take it so well, bunny.”

“My good little wife and her pretty fucking mouth—likes sucking daddy’s cock however deep he needs it, huh?”

You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldn’t quite speak your mind with your mouth full of Bucky, so you had only to nod. Your husband groaned when you hummed along his length and bobbed your head to answer ‘yes.’ He saw you try not to gag and decided to thrust a little deeper.

He watched his cock drag back and forth along your tongue and took hold of your hair like a vice, fucking your face until your chin and cheeks were drenched with spit. Every now and then he’d pull his cock out just long enough to ask how bad you wanted him in your mouth, how desperate you were to taste him again, and every time you’d answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.

You were amazed you’d lasted as long as you had—how quickly you’d devolved into this pliable, doe-eyed cocksleeve for Bucky and how keenly you desired to please him even more. It felt pornographic and lewd and somehow still loving as he plowed in and out of your mouth and sang your praises like no man had before.

Above you, Bucky was aching for release but adamant that he wouldn’t cum down your throat—not yet, at least.

His mind was alight with those pesky, primal thoughts again, and every time he watched you swallow him whole, he just wanted to fuck his cum someplace else.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was smitten or simply dominated by carnal desire; all he knew was that he wanted to give you his babies.

Lots and lots of babies.

A hundred or more, if he had it his way.

Again, you barely had a chance to take a fresh breath before Bucky threw you onto the bed. You’d just tried to steady yourself in a semi-seated position when the man shoved you back in the pillows and slotted himself between your legs, pupils blown wide with hunger.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your stomach with your ass yanked high in the air. Back made to arch, toes about to curl, you closed your eyes and sank your teeth into the sheets, moments away from begging your husband to fuck you right then and there, but Bucky had other plans. He seized the hair at the crown of your head and jerked your head to face forward.

The first thing to greet you was your own reflection—in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bed—followed by Bucky’s broad form steadying behind you. You watched him wet his lips, furrow his brow, and use one careful hand to guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Completely piqued with arousal as you were, weeping beads of desire from that place between your legs, you almost wanted to buck your hips and fuck him yourself.

You refrained.

Bucky pressed the tip of himself to your clit and met your gaze in the mirror when you let out a whimper.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.

“Mean what?”

It took an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the moan in your throat when Bucky dragged his cock down the seam of your cunt and rubbed every hot, throbbing inch of himself in the slickness between your folds. You were quick to take the sheets in your hands and squeeze as tight as you could—you wouldn’t let him win that easy.

“When you said you weren’t my wife. Did you mean it?” Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.

“No. I didn’t,” you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.

“Do you want to be my wife?” Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.

“Yes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?”

In response, and as if to make a mockery of your request, Bucky just pressed the head of his cock inside you and watched you close in the mirror—daring your hips to move back another inch.

“What else do you want to be, doll?”

To say your mind was an empty slate bare of anything but the desire to be fucked was an understatement. You fumbled to find words.

“Your wife, your girl— that’s it, Bucky.”

Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.

“A good girl?” he hummed.

“Yes, daddy,” you cried and clenched around him.

Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the world’s most shallow thrusts as he flattened his hand on your back and made sure it stayed arched while he teased you.

At this point, you didn’t care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.

“Bucky!”

“Wanna be my obedient little cockslut?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“My bunny?”

“Yes, James.” Your cheeks were enflamed, almost hot to the touch.

Bucky suddenly drove himself inside you all the way to the hilt. He squeezed your hip in one hand and with the other slipped a finger between your folds to rub vicious, tight circles against your clit as you bucked and moaned beneath his touch.

“How about a momma?” he pressed, almost too low to be heard, “Wanna be that, too?”

His hips fell into a quick and easy rhythm against your ass, stretching you wide and filling you up almost seamlessly. Your mind was too consumed with pleasure and him to think much else, but barely, you managed,

“W-what?”

Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.

“Do you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking—what the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Bucky’s in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“No— James, we’re not, shit—” you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, “We’re not ready for that.”

“Look pretty…ready to me,” Bucky stifled a groan when you squeezed around him and made obscene little noises sliding up and down his cock. He watched the way your pretty, wet pussy stretched and swallowed him down to the base and imagined it dripping with his cum. He snapped his hips against your ass even faster.

It wasn’t clear just who was more overcome with desire—both of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as you’d ever been—and then Bucky flipped you onto your back.

He wanted to see your face as he fucked you slow this time, lips hovering mere inches from your own as he dragged his cock gently in and out of you.

“James,” you breathed, digging your heels in his back with a wordless plea to speed up, baby, please.

In truth, you just knew what would happen if Bucky had the advantage of slow and soft sex with a mouth lowered close to your ear. How he’d shower you with kisses and bring you right to the edge, rolling his hips against your body with strings of sweet praises flowing fast off his tongue.

“Just one, honey,” he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, “One baby and I promise we’ll be done.”

Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.

“Can you do that for me, doll?” he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, “Fit my baby in there?”

You couldn’t deny the feelings of pleasure were heightened to no end when he rubbed the heel of his palm into your tummy and continued to rut into you. That feeling of fullness, the delicate nudge against your most sensitive place, paired with the warmth of Bucky’s hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as you’d ever felt before orgasm, and it wasn’t hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing that spot, “You’d look so pretty all swole up down here, don’t you think?”

Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.

“Someone…tried to kill us…twice in the last twenty four hours,” you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Bucky’s cock kissed your cervix and you felt him bottom out inside you.

Balls deep and enamored with the expression on your face, Bucky laid a kiss on your forehead and smiled.

“I’ll take Schröder’s life with my own two hands if it means keeping you—” he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, “—and our child safe, honey.”

You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promise—even if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knew—but you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little you’d seen in the last day and a half, it had become clear as ever that there were no certainties; no promise of tomorrow, much less a probability that things would pan out exactly as you planned. Add to that a living, breathing child between you two, and the prospects for a safe, secure, and peaceful future were small. Infinitesimally so, in the grand scheme of things.

“No, Bucky,” you finally opened your eyes to find his tender gaze watching over you. Still moving his hips gently, still blanketing your body with his own, “That’s entirely just— just irresponsible. You know it would be.”

“Making a child together?” Bucky seemed wounded saying the words.

And, in spite of the serious turn your conversation had taken, you could see and feel with the growing pace of your breaths that both of you were close. You wanted more than anything to repair that muted, injured look in his eyes, but then Bucky was blinking it away, to the best of his abilities, and lowering his head back down to yours to impart a soft barrage of kisses along your skin. He resumed before you could even think to speak again.

“Okay. No, you’re right. It’s your choice, my love,” he murmured against your cheek, getting back into the more deliberate rhythm of his thrusts before. He stayed there holding his body and his lips as close to yours as possible, and when you felt tempted to say something again, you found the sound drowned by a cresting wave of pleasure.

Your legs tightened around Bucky’s sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Bucky’s drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.

“Gonna cum for me, doll?”

You nodded.

“So close, Bucky,” you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.

You felt your husband’s hand move from your belly to a place just below it—taking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nerves—and started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.

“Good girl,” Bucky growled, “Good fuckin’ girl, taking me so well.”

The praises and gentle circuits of his thumb continued as he fucked you harder into the bed and panted against your skin. Increasing the speed of his thrusts before catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss, body sinking into yours.

“Gonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?”

You whined in response, feeling your muscles start to ache from how hard your legs were wrapped around him. Bucky invaded your mouth with his tongue, kissing and licking and craving your taste as he fucked you stupid—and begged for your release.

“Cum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.”

A couple more snaps of his hips and you gave him just that: a hot, cascading ripple of bliss spreading all throughout your body, sending your mind in spirals and every muscle under your command a tense, throbbing mess. You swallowed a scream and took a bite of Bucky’s shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled with an audible hint of pride.

The smile only started to waver when his own release was coming close. Suddenly, his grip was moving to your hip and pinning you down to the bed, brows pinching in and breaths starting to hitch.

“Honey— honey,” he said, voice strained, “Baby, you— you gotta let go of your— ah, fuck.”

Still riding out the highs of your orgasm, you hardly even noticed how tight you were holding him with your legs, and shortly, this raised issues for Bucky, who was trying like hell to heed your wishes and not cum inside you.

“Baby, let go, I gotta—”

He probably could’ve fought to shake you off a little harder, been a bit more adamant about his efforts, but you looked so comfortable and lithe and sweet beneath his frame, so blissed out and happy to be taking his strokes, Bucky almost had to pinch himself to rouse his lust-addled brain to action and remind himself that this was how babies are made, man, get the fuck off of her.

Bucky let out a long, strangled groan as the ropes of cum left his body before he could think, or move, fast enough.

He hastily pushed your legs away and pulled out, but not before painting your walls with a good portion of his load. His hand fell to his cock and started jerking the rest of it out over your stomach, body washing with pleasure.

Vaguely, thoughts of babies and ballgames and neat white picket fences crossed his mind, but those views were fleeting; he remembered what you’d told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve pulled out quicker,” Bucky panted against your neck.

You stroked his bicep and shook your head.

“You’re fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,” you breathed and shared a weary laugh.

Before you knew it, Bucky was sliding off the bed and shuffling toward the bathroom in search of a towel. You prodded the warm, gooey mess on your belly with your finger and raised an eyebrow. Curious, and only slightly worried.

Bucky had been hitting it raw for a day now—surely one more half-load of his wouldn’t get you pregnant, right?

Fortunately, you didn’t have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.

A phone call? At 45,000 feet?

“Just the intercom,” Bucky called out, “Probably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.”

Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.

“You think they could hear us?” you asked.

Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.

“Hope so,” he said with a shrug, “You know I’d never miss a chance to let ‘em know I took a trip to poundtown—”

“Please never say that again,” you groaned, closing your eyes in sudden fear of what Steve and Sam may or may not have just been made privy to outside of the room.

You were just about to speak up again—perhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didn’t hurry the fuck up with that towel—when the intercom’s jarring peal started up once more.

Fuck this. Ignoring the sticky-sweet puddle of love still painted on your stomach, you sat up and crawled over to the phone and ripped it off the hook.

“Barnes residence,” you announced without ceremony. Then, imagining how smug Steve was probably looking on the other end of that line, you decided to be crass and add, “Bucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, he’ll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!”

You heard the caller burst out laughing, and you smiled to yourself. Pleased to have made an otherwise moody and brooding Steve Rogers crack at one of your jokes, you were just about to hang up when the caller cut in.

Bucky was returning with your towel in hand, lips curled in the faintest of smirks at hearing your crude declaration, when he stopped at the foot of the bed.

He saw the smile fall from your face, and his did, too.

From the other end of the line, a soft and familiar Southern drawl crawled out of the phone’s receiver.

“Sure thing, doll. Tell him it’s Joey Schröder calling.”

Taglist: @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut

(If I missed anyone or tagged improperly, please let me know! This is my first rodeo taglist)

[xo-cori]

ok but get this

ellie is definitely the type to fall asleep while eating you out. gently tapping her head and you cant help but laugh. shes so cute resting her head on your thigh, completely pussy drunk that it made her so sleepyyyy

ok im done.

opiate this hazy head of mine

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: no matter how tired she may be, she just can’t get enough of you.

warnings: smut (MDNI), slight overstim, brief mention of a minor injury, ellie snoozin

a/n: stop this is so cute. ellie b like… eat sleep repeat

Your eyes shoot up from the book in your lap when you hear the door to the room open, knowing exactly who it is before you even see her face.

It’s at least midnight and it’s almost painful how exhausted you are, but you’d made a habit out of waiting for your girlfriend to get home from patrol before ever going to sleep. As much as you assure her that it’s only because you want to be there for her after such a long day, you know deep down that your own anxieties play a big part in it. Every time she passes the gates to Jackson, there’s a little voice in your head reminding you that this could be the time she never makes it back.

She does, though. Every time. Your luck has been grand so far.

You smile as she trudges over to the bed, flopping down onto the mattress, breathing in the scent of the freshly washed sheets. You set your book down on the nightstand. “Long time, no see.”

“Too long.” Ellie groans, crawling up the bed until she’s settled between your legs, cheek pressing against your upper chest.

You wrap your arms around her and place a kiss on her frizzy hair. “Agreed,” you mumble, “but you know the rules. No outside clothes on the bed.”

Her chest puffs up before she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Come on. You can’t make an exception for me?”

“Not really, since the rule is specifically for you.” You gently push on her shoulders to make her sit up, which she does hesitantly. “Come on. The faster you change, the faster we can go to sleep.”

Ellie grumbles as she scoots to the edge of the bed so she can get to work with unlacing her shoes. While she does that, you stand up to retrieve the pajamas that you had laid out for her; a big, grey t-shirt and one of her many pairs of black boyshorts. You walk over to her and slip her shirt off over her head. “Oh, Els,” you sigh, reaching out to see that she’s got a bruise on her shoulder. It’s a big one and it’s already dark, a pretty mix of purple and yellow. “How’d you get that?”

“Kinda embarrassing, actually– I ran into this tree branch that was sticking through a window. It doesn’t really hurt as long as I don’t move my arm.” She shrugs.

You shake your head as you move down to start unbuttoning her jeans, which are just utterly filthy. Blood, dirt, and some other nasty shit that you don’t wanna know about; you aren’t exactly a clean freak, but you’d be caught dead before letting her stay in these clothes any longer than she has to. You pull her jeans down along with her underwear and pass her the pajamas. “I’m gonna go get a washcloth.”

As you walk away, you toss her dirty clothes into the laundry basket before wetting a rag with warm water in the bathroom, then taking a seat next to her on the bed. She’s already got her pajamas on and is rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes.

“Fuck, I’m tired.” She practically whispers.

You pick up her arm and run the washcloth over any bits of dirt that lingered on her skin. “I know,” you hum, “just want you to be comfortable.”

Ellie watches you clean her off with a focused care, handling her like a porcelain doll that could break at any moment. If it were anyone else, she would’ve gotten pissed off at how weak it makes her feel. But you aren’t anybody else. You’re the only person who can break down those walls she put up with nothing but a washcloth and a fresh pair of pajamas.

When you’re done, you just throw the rag on the bedside table and crawl back up the bed, motioning for her to follow you, which she does without a second thought. She lands herself in the same position as before, just a but cleaner this time; ear pressed to your heartbeat, sighing contently when she feels your arms wrap around her. “Yeah, this is pretty damn comfortable.” She says, though her voice is muffled by your shirt.

“Worth the thirty seconds it took for you to get changed?” You wonder, the snarky tone not making its way past Ellie.

She lifts her head to look at you with a huff. “You’re a lot prettier when you aren’t talking, you know that?”

You reach up to jokingly push her face away from you, but she takes it as an opening to latch onto your neck, chapped lips peppering kisses across your pulse point. Both of you know what that means, and you’d like to stop it before it goes too far. “Oh– Ellie, I think we should go to sleep,”

She hums against your throat, a quiet mm-mmm that shows her determination to finish what she’s started, regardless of how tempted she is by sleep. You sigh out in both disapproval and pleasure; a hypocritical combination that she pretends not to notice. Before you know it, her hands are sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, calloused fingers brushing over the soft skin on either side of your stomach. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You mutter.

Her only response is a quick bite to your neck, causing you to gasp and dig your fingers into her back, but she’s already moving down your body before you can react. Her hands smooth their way to the waistband of your bottoms, which happen to be a pair of her own boxers, she realizes with a smirk. “Come on. You put on my boxers and expected me to not get all hot and bothered?”

“Don’t ever say ‘hot and bothered’ again, but yeah– I know what makes you tick.” You reply honestly. She just rolls her eyes as she quickly pulls them down your legs, helping you kick them off to the floor. Not only can she already smell you, but the sight is enough to make her mind go blank. How are you already so wet? Had you been expecting this?

Her eyes momentarily flicker over to the book you’d placed on the nightstand and sees that it’s a familiar one; the one with a few portions questionable enough that you hurriedly stuff into one of the drawers before Joel or any of your friends come to visit. She grins at the realization. “Holy shit, you’re all hot and bothered too, huh?”

Before you’re even able to come up with another response, perhaps berate her for using that damn phrase again, you feel Ellie’s thumb swipe through your folds to bring some wetness up to your clit so that she can rub it in slow circles. Your hands grab onto the sheets and your legs fall open, making more room for her to lay between them comfortably. “Yeah, you are. Jeez.”

As turned on as you are, you can’t help but worry for her a bit; this is probably the latest she’s come back from a patrol, and if Maria hadn’t lectured her yet, she would definitely be in for it tomorrow. The dim yellow light from the lamp next to the bed gives you a clear view of those bags beneath her eyes, too, as she looks up at you like it doesn’t even phase her.

“Maybe, but you’re tired,” you whine, reaching down to stroke her freckled cheek with your thumb.

“Are you?” She asks.

You tuck some loose hair behind her ear. “No, but still, you–”

Much to your surprise (the best kind, you hate to admit), Ellie cuts you off by replacing her thumb with her tongue, immediately latching onto your twitching clit like it’s her sworn duty. Your hips jump as you gasp, taken aback by the sudden rush of pleasure that courses through you. Her quiet moans don’t do much to help. That hand on her cheek quickly comes up to grab her hair, clearly unsure whether you should pull her away or tug her closer. Either way, she doesn’t budge. You knew she wouldn’t.

Though it still feels good, way too good, you notice the tiredness creeping up on Ellie while she exhausts her last bits of energy into eating you out– slowly, more messy than usual, which is a welcome change. Little do you know, the only thing keeping her from completely dozing off is the feeling of your fingers tugging her hair (and the way your taste melts on her tongue like honey).

Due to this change in pace, it’s easier for you to keep your legs open wide for her, not exactly having the energy to struggle whatsoever and not wanting to tire her any more than she already is. If this is what she chooses to help her relax, then so be it; you’re getting something out of it too, after all.

A few minutes go by before you’re weakly crying out her name. “Els, I’m close,” you say, “just like that, okay? Oh, fuck,”

Ellie gives a tired smile as she pushes one finger into your clenching hole, softly curling it upwards into that spot that knocks the air out of you every single time. That’s all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your hand falls from her head and seeks out her free hand, twining your fingers together as she lets you ride out a gentle, quivering orgasm– but she doesn’t stop there. Of course she doesn’t.

It takes you a moment to process that she hasn’t stopped, even after removing her finger from inside of you. Her tongue is relentless as ever despite the ache in her bones telling her that her time is up.

“Ellie–” You hardly whine out, cut by a gasp. Still, though, you don’t make any attempt to fight back. You just squirm and cry as she licks up the mess she’s made of you with no regard for your sensitivity. It isn’t because she’s feeling mean, though. Just one glance down at her is all it takes for you to understand that she’s really just out of it.

You squeeze her hand each time she moans into you, the once pleasurable vibrations becoming torturous. Not before long, though, those moans turn to whines, then huffs, until you feel her head go limp against your thigh as she licks you one last time before letting out a low hum.

Relief floods you when you think she might just be done for the night

That is, until you look down once more and see that she’s completely knocked out.

Your eyes widen. Her lips glisten in the little bit of light in her room, her hands resting on your hips, cheek smushed against your shivering inner thigh. It’s a beautiful sight, really, but the context makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

Cautiously, you shake your leg, jostling her head and watching her brows furrow at the disturbance. “Ellie.”

Her squinted eyes finally flutter open and meet yours, obviously still well aware of her situation. “What, can’t a girl get some shut-eye around here?” She groans.

You shake your leg again before she can nuzzle back into it, which is her cue to hesitantly crawl up to your side, bringing the blanket over the both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist and burying her face into the warm crook of your neck. “Better?” Ellie questions muffledly.

You reach over to run your fingers through her (now messy) hair, successfully easing her sleepy state of irritation. “Much better, sleeping beauty.”

Though you expect your tease to be met with a dirty look or at least a snarky comment in return, you’re met with a very telling silence. Then, that big exhale Ellie always does whenever she’s completely fallen asleep.

[devildomcuties]

When Vampire!MC Needs A Midnight Snack

🕷The Demon Brothers x gn!reader 18+

🕷wc: 1,787

🕷summary: Sometimes hunger strikes in the middle of the night.

🕷warnings: vampire!MC, blood drinking, implied smut, hair pulling

Lucifer

“You’re lucky it’s the weekend,” Lucifer grumbles as you climb into bed with him. He pulls you toward him, your back against his bare chest.

“Since when do you take days off, hmm?” You ask as you roll over, sliding your leg between his. Lucifer grabs your hip, his eyes meeting yours.

“Since you started climbing into my bed late at night, darling. Why don’t you just sleep here from now on?” Lucifer asks as he kisses your jaw and trails upwards to your lips.

“As if I’d be able to get away with that,” you giggle as he kisses you again.

“I’m sure I can get them off your case if needed,” Lucifer smirks as he kisses you, his hand on your cheek.

You moan softly, your fangs elongate and accidentally nip Lucifer’s bottom lip. He groans as blood beads on his lip and your tongue swipes over it.

Your name escapes him in a near growl as he rolls you under him. He kisses you again, tasting himself on your tongue as you grip his broad shoulders when he grinds on you.

“Bite me,” he demands in between heavy breaths, his neck bared to you in a rare sign of submission. You don’t think twice as you pull him toward you, your fangs sinking into his neck as he moans and your eyes roll back.

He tastes divine.

Mammon

“Treasure, what are you doing here?” Mammon whispers as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. He feels you beside him, your familiar scent surrounding him.

You wear one of his shirts, stolen from his closet. You do your best to be sneaky on nights Lucifer patrols the HOL halls.

“I wanted to see you,” you admit as you turn to face him. He smiles gently, his hand resting on your hip before he pulls you close.

“I missed you, Treasure. It’s been too long since you’ve been in my bed,” Mammon grins as he leans forward to press his lips to yours. Your hands thread in his white hair, tugging it to make him whimper.

Mammon nearly loses himself when your fangs brush his lips. He curses as he tilts his head back to expose his neck.

“Get a taste, Treasure. Let me give you this little pleasure.”

You moan, sinking your fangs into his neck while he cries out your name where he lies under you.

Leviathan

“You really should get to bed earlier,” you say, startling Levi at his desk chair. He was wrapping up the third act of his new game when he was overcome with sleepiness.

“I-I meant to,” he stutters as he shuts down the game and computer. You watch as he pops his fingers before getting out of the chair.

You walk to him, taking his hand in yours as you lead him to the tub. His cheeks flush pink as he watches you intently. You cup his face, gently grabbing hold of his hair to pull him close. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart. His tail whips behind him in excitement as your lips press to his.

“You always taste so good,” you muse as you trail kisses from his jaw to his neck. Your hands tug on his t-shirt, tugging it over his head easily as he melts beneath you. He looks adorable as he stares up at you, your legs straddling his hips.

Slowly you run your hands over his sculpted torso, kissing your way up from his navel until you’re settled at his neck.

“Please,” Levi whimpers as his hands grip your hips, eyes rolling back as your fangs break through his skin and you drink him in. You’re a glutton as you drink from him, slurping lewdly and moaning as he whispers and writhes beneath you.

“Tastes so good,” you whisper as you seal the puncture marks with your tongue.

Levi slowly opens his eyes, smiling as he grabs the back of your head to pull you into a kiss that makes you nearly lose yourself. You’ll spend the rest of the night in his arms, kissing him and making him moan.

Satan

Satan sits on his bed with his back against the headboard. The lamp on his nightstand illuminates his bedroom enough for him to read the thick leather bound book on his lap.

When you enter his bedroom, he’s not surprised to see you. You wear one of his sweaters, something oversized you convinced him to buy on one of your book-shopping dates.

“Hello, love. Can’t sleep?” He asks as you climb into bed with him. You take his bookmark and save his page before taking the book out of his hands to close it. You set it on his nightstand before straddling his lap.

“It would be easier if I could just sleep here every night,” you answer as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“And deal with Lucifer’s wrath? He’s annoying enough as is,” Satan chuckles as you kiss his neck, sinking your fangs into him without warning.

Satan curses, begging for more as his hands grip your hips tightly. He holds you close, tilting his head to encourage you further as you rock up and down on his lap.

You take your fill, moaning when you pull away and lick your blood-stained lips.

Satan’s eyes lock on yours before he’s got you beneath him. He smirks as he eyes you hungrily, kissing you as his hands make quick work of removing your clothes.

Asmo

Your throat aches from hunger as you slowly push open Asmo’s bedroom door. You’re quiet as you enter, shutting the door after.

You’re surprised to see Asmo isn’t on his bed streaming like usual, perhaps he’s decided to turn in early. You look around his bedroom, spotting the bathroom light on seconds before the shower turns on.

“Asmo?” You call out as you walk toward the bathroom.

“In the shower, hun! Why don’t you join me?” Asmo giggles as you enter the bathroom and strip.

Asmo smiles brightly as he pulls you under the shower stream. His hands are greedy as they feel every inch of you, the sweet scent of his body wash fills your nose.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” you state as he washes your back. “I’m just so thirsty.”

Asmo giggles. “Couldn’t resist a taste?”

You turn to face him and shake your head. Asmo grins as he reaches for a tiny bottle filled with a red liquid. He pours some on a loofah before rubbing it on your arms. The smell of blood has your eyes rolling back for a moment before you’re pressing Asmo to the shower wall.

Your fangs appear and Asmo gasps, biting back a moan as you kiss him deeply. His hands wrap around your neck to pull you close, nearly losing himself when you sink your teeth into his sensitive skin.

Gulp after gulp, Asmo moans in your hold until he’s whimpering prettily, gently pushing you away.

Blood drips from your fangs before you lick them clean. You press your forehead to him, kissing him again as the shower steams the bathroom.

Asmo takes his time with you in the shower. He cleans you up and then himself and soon he leads you to his bed, where he bares his neck for you once again.

Beel

You were ravenous. You had been in bed for almost an hour but all you could focus on was your insane thirst and Beel’s pounding heartbeat as he worked out in his room.

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, quietly sneaking through the halls until you arrived at his bedroom.

Belphie’s bed was empty. He had probably fallen asleep in the attic once again.

Beel doesn’t notice you enter his room or hear you shut the door. He’s busy counting reps when you approach him, moving to stand in front of him. He sets the weight down on the floor, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Hey, baby. What brings you here so late?” He asks as he tosses the towel to the side and grabs his granola bar off his desk.

“You,” you answer as you take his hand to lead him to his bed. You push him down and climb on top of him.

Beel smirks, allowing you to straddle him and pin his arms over his head.

“You know damn well I can hear your heartbeat in my room, and yet you continue to workout well into the night until I have to come up here and get a taste.” You grin as you kiss your way down his neck.

You take his shirt off, discarding it on the bedroom floor as you continue to kiss your way down his hot, sweaty body.

You stop at his hips, fangs piercing his skin.

“Yes,” he breathes as his hand grips your hair as you drink from him greedily. Your lewd noises mix with his as your name rolls off his tongue. He encourages you to keep going, moaning until he comes undone at the same time you finish drinking from him, licking the puncture wounds close.

Belphie

Perhaps sleeping would be easier if you had a coffin in the attic like Belphie had suggested the first time he saw you. It would make getting out of bed easier seeing as Belphie spent most of his nights asleep in the attic instead of his bedroom with Beel.

Belphie grumbles when you climb into bed beside him, tugging the blankets away from him along with the pillow he hugs to his side.

“Babe,” he groans when you curl up at his side, taking his wrist and gently kissing it. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” you pout as your fangs scrape your bottom lip. Belphie raises his wrist to your lips and you sink your fangs into him greedily.

He tastes delightful. It makes your eyes roll back and your mouth salivate as you slurp hungrily. Belphie curses, moaning your name as he grinds his hips against your leg. Pleasure courses through his body. His sweet cries make your head spin as you drink from him deeply.

Gently, you pull his wrist away. You lick the tiny holes close and savor the metallic taste on your tongue before you kiss him.

Belphie groans, his tongue meeting yours as your hands thread in his hair. When you tug, he bucks his hips against yours, moaning when you end up beneath him.

He takes his time getting you out of your clothes, ignoring the sting of your bite as he makes his way down your body until he’s settled between your legs.

“Now it’s my turn to taste you,” he smirks as he locks eyes with you.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[petriwriting]

Promise. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Theodore gives Y/N a special gift, reminding them that they are his safety in an unsafe world.

A/N: I would imagine this takes place in 6th year, 'cause you know.. Voldemort. But beware I've been really into writing fluff for my comfort characters lately. This is very angsty. Extra heartbreak points if one of them dies at the battle of Hogwarts, use your imagination.

Late-night walks were common for the pair. Especially when they needed to get away for the night, with everyone going on in their world it was no wonder they both needed a break.

Theodore Nott was under the threat of his father, expected to side with Lord Voldemort, it was his reputation as a pure-blooded Slytherin. Perhaps in some sickening way, he felt the need to clear the family name of his father's wrongdoing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't right. They both did.

Y/n was by his side, as loyal as a Hufflepuff. through everything. On the nights his father became aggressive and violent, Theo came to them seeking refuge. Y/n always welcomed the boy with open arms.

They had been a pair since childhood, they attended dinner parties together, and y/n attended every one of Theo's quidditch games. In turn, Theo was there for y/n when classes were stressful, and life felt overwhelming.

It wasn't until that particular evening that things would change, possibly forever.

The two walked along the empty, quiet streets braving the cold air together. they had both been quiet, observing their surroundings and enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Y/n," Theo finally said, shattering the long silence that had been following them.

"hmm?" y/n's voice was soft, quiet. they were now entering a park square. someplace slightly more private than the streets.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About us."

y/n's heart began to race. surely this wasn't a breakup, how could Theo possibly be abandoning all they had, after all, they had been through? this couldn't be. y/n was so accustomed to hearing bad news these days that it was the only solution their brain could come up with.

"Y/n," Theo turned to them, holding their face in cold pale hands. "I love you, but I don't want to be with you in this war," he said.

"Teddy, I don't understand-"

"Please just listen." Theo insisted quietly. "This is not me parting ways with you, I- could never," he explained gently. "I propose that we run away. change our names, we can flee and start a new life together. without all the dangers of being here."

Y/n was unconvinced and looked down for a moment before locking eyes with him.

"I love you more than anything. But if we stay here our lives will be in danger, possibly forever."

Y/n couldn't deny that fact. The war had already taken people they both loved. It wasn't right to be talking about wanting to get married one day, have kids, and grow old together if it meant they would be living in danger, living in fear.

"It isn't right. We can't just flee. we need to fight this," y.n shook their head gently, partially in disbelief. "no matter what happens." the pair locked eyes and the snow began to gently fall around them, coating the park in a grey glow.

"Then promise me."

Theodore shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a tiny deep red velvet box. It was battered, aged, and torn. but it was still soft. "Promise me, that you'll stick around, no matter what." as soon as Theo mimicked y/n's words, soft tears began falling from their eyes, watching him toy with the box.

Out from the box emerged a shiny, silver ring with an elaborate stone placed in it. something very expensive no doubt. something that was purchased with his father's money. Theodore offered the ring to y/n.

"This was my mother's ring," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaking. "I took it from her things when she,-" Theo gasped quietly, the shaky breath taking the air out of his lungs when he tried to continue his sentence.

Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, the boy wasn't crying, Theodore rarely ever cried. but there was hurt in his eyes that pained y/n to see.

"I promise." barely a whisper. "no matter what Theo, I'll always be right here."

Y/n's soft touch brushed against Theo's cheeks before he pulled forward pressing their lips together in desperation. It was a sweet and heartfelt kiss, like two lovers that couldn't live without each other.

After the kiss, they embraced one another very tightly as the snow collected around them.

"I just want everything to be okay," Y/n whispered. "we'll be okay."

they pulled away from one another, each shivering in the cold. Y/n took the ring and gently twirled it around their thumb and forefinger. "Theo I can not take your mother's ring." it was dazzling. quite beautiful for that sort of thing. "I know how much this means to you." y/n said. Theo was insistent. "I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life, y/n. But I was never wrong about you. I want you to have it, keep it, my end of our promise." he insisted.

"Theo-"

y/n was promptly cut off. "Please take this. you know how much it means to me, you mean more than that." his heartfelt confession made y/n's stomach flutter, it was that same feeling they had when they were younger and Theo would hold their hand or say just the right thing. Theo grabbed the ring and slipped it onto y/n's middle finger.

"I'll guard it with my life." y/n said with another shiver, the later the night grew the colder the chill in the air became.

"Here, love," Theo said, taking off his coat and offering it to Y/n by draping it around their shoulders. "but Theo, you'll be cold." y/n retorted, but Theo was incredibly insistent that evening. "I can manage until we are safe at home," he chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

As the two continued on their path, Theo wrapped their arm around y/n, in an effort to keep them warm and as an act of deep affection. Y/n leaned their head over onto Theo's arm.

[abbyromanoff]

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE

PAIRINGS: GF!Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 5,142

WARNINGS: Nat is ghost face, smut, killing, blood, dark!Nat, Nat has a dick, cnc, dubcon, daddy kink, begging, praise, degrading, fingering, facials, dry-humping, knives, carving, pain kink, hair pulling, manipulation, size kink, tummy bulges, blowjobs, breeding, unprotected sex, kinda dark!R, very dark descriptions of death, kinda depressed!r, mentions of cheating (no cheating actually happens tho), think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Your eerie apartment was filled with complete silence. You could hear the clock on the wall slowly ticking away at your life, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You couldn’t find it in you to care if your entire existence would vanish in the spot, there was nothing left for you to live for anyways.

You clicked through the channels mindlessly, hoping to find something that could entertain you. The pizza box left on the table had three pieces left - all cold. Your girlfriend had been out for god knows how long. Your phone was next to you, taking Nat’s spot on the couch. It was nearly dead, but that didn’t matter, you didn’t get any notifications anyways.

Suddenly, after minutes of surfing through the tv, the blasting sounds of a breaking emergency filled your ears. The news reporter, a blonde woman most likely in her late thirties, stared dead into your eyes without knowledge of it. She read the words from the telegraph, a small shake in her voice as the man next to her hid a fearful gulp.

It started a few months ago, people reported dead all around the city. The only problem was that it was New York, there were small and large crimes daily; no cop, no matter how good, would ever be able to figure out who was the masked killer.

There had already been over ten found bodies, there was a small part of you who wished you were one of them. Blood would smear the walls of the victim's houses, a new letter to create a large sentence being designed ever so slowly. You wondered what they’d do if they got to each letter, would they stop? Would they be caught beforehand? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to know.

Every video you found online was all about the same topic, who is this new Ghostface, as they called him. When would he strike again? Is it even a he? You didn’t bother, they were just a bunch of conspiracy theorists who had such little to do in their lives that they became so invested in others. So what if they were crazy? Isn’t everyone at least a little bit?

You could hear the sound of keys dangling outside of your door and rolled your eyes, she was back.

“Hey, beautiful.” She muttered when she got near you, planting a kiss on top of your head and climbing onto the couch. She took the spot next to you, accidentally sitting on your drained phone.

“Look who’s home.” She tried placing her arm around your neck, only to feel you shuffle away. You wouldn’t even look at her, only going to stand up and grab the recycling left on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, are you really mad at me?” She attempted to pull you back down, make you sit with her so she can finally hold you; but you shrugged her off. She sighed, rolling her head back and trying to find comfort in the cheap sofa that did nothing for her.

“Why would I be mad? Because you were out all night and didn’t bother to text me or call me back? Or maybe because you smell like that bitches perfume?” You asked, sarcasm evident in your voice. She groaned and stood back up, yawning as she walked into the kitchen where you stood, back facing her as you scrubbed the dishes.

She watched you for a moment, her side leaning on the fridge as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. She waited for anything else, any other comment, but none came. Instead, she grabbed a warm beer from the six-pack box that was resting on the floor next to the counter. She easily popped open the cap and flicked it in the direction of the trash, hoping it made it in.

Your gaze traveled to the side when you noticed the glass bottle being placed next to you and let out a deep and frustrated sigh as you felt her hands rubbing your arms.

“You really think I’d fuck someone else when I have you right here?” She smirked with pure cockiness, it nearly made you want to puke. When you still did not indicate forgiveness or submitting, her smirk dropped.

“Why don’t you believe me, doll? I give you everything you ask and you still don’t trust me?” You felt her crotch poking your backside and tried to hide the goosebumps that arose to the surface. Her hands were gentle as they moved your hair to one side, letting your neck be displayed as you subconsciously leaned into her pecks. She kissed from your exposed shoulder up to your jawline, stopping there as you felt her hot breath against your cold skin.

“Nat-”

“Shh, isn’t this what you wanted?” You showed no evidence to prove her right. You wanted her to feel bad, it’s what she deserved. Who was she to think she can just take off whenever she wants, fuck who she wants, and have the audacity to get annoyed at your worries.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad, makes me just wanna- take you right here.” You felt her hands slide down your pants and dip into your panties. She audibly gasped when feeling your wetness gushing on her fingers.

“You want this, hm? You want daddy’s fingers?” Your palms gripped the ends of your countertop as her middle finger rubbed your clit slowly.

“More.” You choked out, your hips involuntarily grinding into her, chasing the pleasure. She chuckled, shaking her head and tsking.

“No, no, you need to tell me you want it, baby girl.” Your mouth opened, only to release a silent scream as she eased a finger into you. You fucking hated her, despised her, but she knew you perfectly, she knew exactly how to make you tell her how much you love her.

“I want it.” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. You groaned in annoyance, your hand traveling to your chest where you palmed your tits.

“I want it…daddy. I want you, please.” You struggled to get out through gritted teeth, hating how the words sounded coming from your mouth. This was the last time she’d get away with something through fucking you, you’d tell yourself, yet you seemed to repeat those words in your mind every single time. And every single time you ended up back in this situation, orgasms rushing through you while you acted like a desperate whore for any sort of attention she’d offer.

You wondered if her other woman felt the same as you, who couldn’t despise her every move?

“That’s a good girl, you’re daddy’s good little girl, right?” You nodded, your head falling on her shoulder as you tried to find hold of something. Her cock rubbed against your skin as she fucked herself to your pleasured state.

“Cum with me. Make a fucking mess, you slut.”

Your sleeping body laid with the blanket covering only your chest to the tops of your thighs. Nat was next to you, brushing the hair out of your face and smiling at your state. You look beautiful, you always did, but you looked even better when you were shut up for once. She wished she could just fuck that attitude right out of you.

Of course, she wasn’t cheating, no idiot would do such a thing to someone like you. You were a feisty little thing, if you ever found out she was cheating you’d beat her ass into her own grave and plead insanity - she taught you well.

“I’ll be back soon, pretty girl.” She whispered even when knowing you couldn’t hear such words. You shuffled in your sleep and she gave your forehead one last kiss before standing, finding a new pair of boxers and a bra before grabbing her clothing. She had everything she needed in her bag - her mask, outfit, and most importantly, her knife. The best part about it all was that the knife was a custom design you ordered for her for your first Christmas as a pair. It had her initials on it with a heart next to it, reminding her of your love. Your past love for her at least, everything was different now. She didn’t want to hurt you, but you couldn’t figure her out just yet. She’d tell you eventually, she wanted to, she loved nothing more than bragging about her killings, and with you, she’d finally have someone to do so with.

There was still that fear that you wouldn’t accept it though, it wasn’t exactly an easy topic to be brought up. But she couldn’t wait to prove to you that she was in fact loyal, just maybe not clean of her sins.

With one last glance, she left, closing the door behind her and walking down the stairs of the cheap building, shuffling the bag from shoulder to shoulder. She threw it in the car once she found her keys, settling herself in the driver's seat and preparing herself before driving off, her main destination in mind.

“Alright, Mar, let’s see just how well you handle it.” She mumbled to herself, her elbow slamming into the glass of the woman’s back window. She was in, the easiest part was done, and now it was just her time to have fun.

When you woke in the middle of the night, 2:43 AM reading on the clock, you searched for your lover, only to come up empty-handed. You bit back the bile in your throat and threw the blanket over you angrily, grabbing the suitcase you kept under your bed. It was meant for trips, now it was being used to kick out your girlfriend; if she even was that anymore. You didn’t know what changed her, who changed her, but you were done. If she wanted someone else then she could have them, she already used up all the chances you offered her.

Then, there was the sound of the keys rattling, she was back for the last time. You stood up with the luggage in hand, throwing the door open as you were planning to be greeted by a hickey-stained Nat with more excuses pooling out of her, but there was no one to be seen.

“Get the fuck out here, Nat.” You waited for something, but there was no sign of her. You noticed her keys resting on the ground in front of the door, covered in blood. You gulped, taking a step back from nothing.

“Nat? Babe, where- where are you?” You yelled out, your head turning in all directions to look for her. You still found no one, it was pitch black, and nearly impossible to find any sighting of anything besides the luggage by your feet. Your hands were sweaty as your body was stuck in place, you couldn’t move.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Nat, get out here right now.” Hands landed on your shoulders, a low whisper coming to your ear.

“Boo.” You jumped, turning around only to find a person dressed in all black besides their mask. The face covering looked like the design of a ghost, one that a child would draw as their mother praised them for what a good job they did, even if they knew it was horrible.

The man twirled the knife in his hands, watching your fear grow in your eyes and motions.

“Aww, did I scare you, baby girl?” You were able to really listen in on their voice this time, it sounded familiar. You suddenly regretted everything you had said earlier on, you weren’t ready to die just yet.

“No need to be scared, it’s just me.” The man went down on one knee in front of you, knife still in hand near their leg as his hand ventured to his mask, removing the plastic only to see,

“Nat?” She chuckled darkly, reaching up to switch on the light that was sitting on a small table next to you.

“What the fuck was that?” She tried to reach out for your face, only to be pushed away; she wasn’t having that. She gripped your arm tightly, your wrist starting to ache the more she squeezed. She took pleasure in seeing such pain and fear in your features, it somehow made you all the more beautiful.

“Nat- stop it, you’re hurting me.” She smiled darkly as you spoke.

“Perfect.” You thought this was the end, she was going to kill you, your girlfriend was going to kill you. But there seemed to be no move made to do so.

“If you’re going to kill me just get it over with already.” She let go of your arm and you noticed the tensity in her jaw increasing, her head turning just enough for her darkened glare to look all the more dangerous.

“Oh, baby, you really think I’d kill you? There’s no point, it’s not like anyone would miss you.” The words hurt even more than your wrist in the moment, you bit back a remark, choosing to play your cards right and not argue with the woman now pointing a knife at you.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, we’re just gonna have a bit of fun together, alright?” The cold metal pressed against your neck, the sharp tip nearly causing you to leak blood. You whimpered the further she went, your skin barrier breaking as a red substance slowly dripped down your neck.

“Fuck, you don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting this, I’ve been just dying to see you dripping in blood all at the hands of my knife.” You didn’t move, didn’t speak, the fear of what she’d do to you if so indulging you.

“You know, I was planning to come home to my gorgeous little girl laying in bed, ready to take me whenever I want. But instead, I came home to a suitcase of my clothes ready for me, you were gonna kick me out, huh?” You slowly nodded, wetness pooling in your eyes and your shorts. You squeezed your eyes shut in shame, it was so wrong to be needy after such things, she was holding a deadly object to your body and you were still turned on, were you just as crazy as her?

“But seeing that look in your eyes I- fuck, I just wanted you so much more. I was going to tell you, but I- I didn’t know how you’d react, you know?” She was practically manic as she spewed jumbled-up words, her eyes wide and her laugh being as haunted as her soul.

“I mean, just watching Maria on the floor, begging for her life to be saved- it just made me want to shove this knife so deep inside of her and watch as her life slowly drained from her eyes until there was nothing left.” Your own eyes widened at her words, trying to scramble as far away from her as you could. There was no escape though, you were pressed against the wall and she was surrounding every part of you, including your mind.

“Don’t run from me, baby.” She started. “All of this- all of it would’ve been prevented if it wasn’t for you. God, you’re just such a fucking slut, whoring yourself out to practically everyone. Do I not do enough for you? I fucking killed for you and that’s not enough?” You knew this was all the manipulation tactics that she noticed seemed to work with you, and it was working. You were ready to spit out apology after apology, praying for forgiveness, just like all of her victims.

She quickly reached for her bag, and you wanted nothing less than to know what was in there. She grabbed a small book, opening it to show the multiple photos of bloodied victims fallen at her hands. She looked proud, excited, all to show you her work.

“Maybe these people would’ve still been alive if it wasn’t for you.” You tore your eyes away quickly, you couldn’t stand seeing such brutality. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t the one who hurt them, you told yourself. But there was that nagging thought, what if she did kill them because of you? Sure, you flirted, you had old flings but they weren’t contacted since you started your long relationship with Nat.

“Maria didn’t deserve this, none of them did.” You sobbed out, flinching when you felt her hand on your cheek. It was a soothing matter, one meant to calm you, but it did everything but. Suddenly, the same hand connected harshly with the skin, causing it to instantly redden in pain.

“They wanted you, baby, you should’ve known that. You think I didn’t pick up on Maria’s glances at your ass or these, perfect breasts of yours?” She groped your body with desire, shuddering out a breath while doing so.

“Of course, you didn’t notice, you thought she was just being ‘nice’, so fucking stupid.”

“And Wanda? She had a husband, Nat, a family.” Instead of giving you the response you wanted, an explanation to it all, she just continued to tease your nipples with the pad of her thumb through the fabric.

“You know I’d never kill you, right?” It took you a moment before you could get out a hesitant nod, struggling to fully believe her. You always trusted her, but times changed, and so did she.

“I like hurting people, it excites me. But you, I could never do such a thing, I never want to see you in pain, pretty girl.” She murmurs, moving her free hand to her crotch where she rubbed herself thoroughly.

“I just- you ever get so angry, so sick of someone, you just wish you could, like, kill them? Sometimes when we get into those heated arguments, I just wonder how much you’d be willing to beg me not to hurt you.” You watched as she slowly slid the black suit over her head, revealing her black sweatpants. She lowered them to her knees, and let her boxers make way to your vision.

“I’d never act on it, but with others, you don’t need to care about how much they mean to you, because their life costs me nothing but annoyance. I’d kill every last soul on this planet just for you, all you’d have to do is ask.” She grasped your hand, leading it to her confined cock as you palmed her length. Your breathing was ragged, shaky as you refused to look her in the eyes. You knew if you stared too deep into that emerald glaze, there would be no stopping. You wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if you saw the care hidden deep inside of her.

“If I let you touch me, will you stop?” The killings are what you meant, but there was a hidden meaning in the words.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be able to, love.” There was a small whimper escaping her lips as you dipped your hand inside her underwear, grasping her cock in your hands as you stroked with a back-and-forth motion.

“That’s it, don’t stop.” You couldn’t believe yourself, you were sick, insane. Was this normal? No, it couldn’t be. But it felt so good, there was no stopping it. You wanted to see her face contort into pleasure, you wanted to see what she’d do to you. Would she treat you the same as Maria? Would she kill you when you were done? Did she mean it when she sputtered those words? You didn’t want to die just yet, you used to think you did, but that was until you faced death with open arms. How could a criminal, a serial murderer, a psychopath look so perfect? She still looked the same, but there was blood covering her hands and her red hair was messy, her forehead covered in trails of sweat.

“I’m- God, you’re such a good little girl, so fucking perfect.” She noticed the way your thighs clenched, rubbing together as your hips jutted into the air.

“Does someone like when daddy compliments them? Tells them how good they’re doing?” You nodded quickly, your mouth aching to land on her crotch.

“Yeah? You like being a good girl? Or do you like being a good little slut for me?” Both. The answer was both. You wanted nothing more than to prove your worth to her, but you wanted her to treat you like you had none.

“I’m cumming, baby, I’m fucking cumming.” She clenched her jaw tightly and groaned deeply as continuous spurts of cum coated your face. She looked down, grasping your hair in her hands to create a ponytail before forcing herself into your mouth. She could feel the salty tears that had traveled down to your lips spreading amongst her dick, making her grin.

“Swallow daddy’s cum, little girl.” She whispered, dragging you up and down as you gagged around her. Some dribbled down your chin, but she didn’t mind, and neither did you. It had been so long since she felt the warmth that was your mouth, you had been refusing to have sex with her until earlier today. When she finally got her hands on you, it felt magical, like a long-awaiting finale to a show.

“Your throat is so fucking tight,” She said. “I know you must be so wet, you like it when I’m rough, don’t ya’?” She extracted her length from your mouth, causing you to let out a multiple of deep breaths. She tossed your loose shorts to the side after ripping them in half, her biceps flexing in the short moment it took to do so.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, Y/N.” She rarely ever used your name, it was almost odd to hear such a thing. She got ahold of your thighs, pulling you forward and, if it wasn’t for her your hand massaging the part of your scalp she tugged, your head would’ve roughly slammed against the wooden floor.

Your thighs were then lifted to meet your stomach, her cock standing tall as she guided herself to prod at your hole. She rubbed up and down your folds, moaning lowly at the wetness coating you. She pressed herself teasingly against your clit, watching as your lips twitched upward.

“Nat- condom.”

“Oh, no, baby, I have a little something planned for tonight.” She eyed you with a soft smile as if it was the most obvious thing, you wished it didn’t turn you on as much as it did.

“You giving me that look isn’t going to help your case, it only makes me want to fuck you even more.” She stated when you gulped, giving her a nervous and feared look. This wasn’t your Nat, this was someone else, but you loved her just as much.

“F-fuck, you’re so warm and- tight!” She mumbled as her tip slowly opened you up. It was difficult to fit close to half of her inside of you, you didn’t know how you’d manage all of her. She held girth to her, and she was proud to point it out. She loved noticing how tiny you were compared to her, how her cock seemed to stretch you out more so than anything ever has before. No toy had come close; you became dependent on her length to fulfill your needs.

Your shirt soon joined your shorts as she tore it off you, roughly grasping your breast and squeezing as if it were a stress ball.

“Don’t do that. You’re a big girl, you can take it.” You whined pitifully, but her gaze was only filled with lust as her skin managed to press against yours. You had never once been able to take every last inch of her, but you were so wet, more than you’ve ever been. This side of her brought out something inside of you, something so shameful, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But Nat did. She could sense how badly you had been wanting to spice things up for months, it was almost starting to turn out to be boring between you two, and she never expected you to act so compliant.

“Daddy, you’re so big.” She rested both arms at either side of your head, staring down at you with an intensity you longed for. You could see how badly she was trying to hold back from hurting you, but she wanted to so much. The thought of you covered in your blood only made her cock throb and pulse. She leaned down, letting her mouth ghost against yours, causing you to pull her forward to connect yourself with her. Her tongue poked at your lips, begging to get a taste of you. You didn’t let her, only pulling back with your eyes slowly trailing from her parted lips to her forest-green eyes.

“Fuck me, Nat.” She never liked her name all that much, she thought it was basic. But hearing it come from your mouth with your voice, it did things to her.

She pulled her hips back, her length sliding out of you, only to fuck itself back into you. Your tits jumped with your body as the thrust, her gaze couldn’t leave them.

She was in a deep state of arousal, even worse than you. And her knife was right there, it would’ve been so easy to repeat her actions onto her own body, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t care if she was a killer, you still loved her, you were as sick and gross as her. If anything, the thought fascinated you. You always enjoyed gore movies, and she was more than ecstatic when she found someone who shared her deep love for such acts, and you thought it was normal at first. That was until she asked you if you ever thought about doing the same things they did. You instantly said no, a little too quickly. Nat knew you were far from innocent, but she loved this part of you more than anything. You accepted her, even if she was insane.

“That feel good?” She asked, her voice coming out in stutters and cracked moans. You had released a loud whimper when she hit that spot deep inside of you, your nails clawing at her skin. She liked the pain, it sent a thrill through her body.

You felt a sharp poke against the skin of your thigh, looking down only to find her weapon covered in the blood of a previous fool, and now you were just the same.

“Nat-”

“Shh, just- shut up and take what I give you, alright?” She let the knife cut into you, leaving red liquid behind as it trailed down your body. It was warm, yet it still sent chills down your spine.

“You look so beautiful with my design, sweetheart.” She had carved an ‘N’, waiting and hoping for the end result where it’d scar your body forever. She didn’t know why she loved it so much, maybe if she hadn’t lied to the psychiatrists, she’d know.

“You think I should do the same thing…here?” Your skin lied a red trail that followed up until your neck, stopping short as she noticed your breathing patterns change.

“I could easily kill you, and no one would know.” She chuckled, bringing her face to rest on your shoulder, her nose against your neck as she inhaled your sweet scent. The knife pressed down a little harder, letting the skin break as a droplet fell.

“I know you won’t.” You whispered, goosebumps erupting over your skin. You were close, so close. You needed her, anything from her.

“Smart girl you are, hm?” Her hips were starting to lose rhythm the longer she went, it was growing more difficult to keep the same pace. The coil in her stomach had been begging to be let free, to finally relax as she came.

“You gonna cum, baby?” You nodded, moans consuming you making it impossible to speak. She finally leaned back, placing her palms on your stomach where a bulge appeared. She gasped, drawing in your attention as you hesitantly followed her vision. You bit your lip in hunger when noticing what caught your girlfriend’s attention, you had found her loving the way she could overpower you at any moment; taking you however she wanted because you couldn’t deny it. She adored being larger than you, it fueled that pride hidden inside of her.

“Oh, daddy must be stretching you out so, so much, huh? You’re just a cute little slut, so small compared to me.”

“Please-”

“Please, what?” She felt her peak rising further, she needed to release.

“Please cum inside me.” She was already planning to whether you wanted it or not, but seeing your dislike to the thought of children or pregnancy, she thought you’d never let her do so. She grinned, throwing her head back as she tried to muster out a response.

“I am, baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you. Cum with me.” She felt your juices coating her length as your legs shook violently. Pumps of her release shot into you, a deep groan caving its way out of her.

“You’ll look so sexy carrying my babies.” She had the image planted deep in her mind, she wanted to make it a reality.

“Yes! Please- God, fuck!” She didn’t stop after your first orgasm, causing your sensitivity to grow until you couldn’t take such abuse anymore. The blood on your skin had dried, and red hand marks that would soon bruise made way to your vision.

“You’re okay, just relax.” You couldn’t believe it, the murderer you had spent nights praising for their impressive kill count and multiple days fearing was your girlfriend, and you didn’t even hate her for it.

“I told you, I’ll kill anyone for you. I want us to get away from the city, find someplace to lie low for a little bit, at least until they cross me out as a suspect. We can be happy, we can have everything you’ve always wanted, together.” She kissed the back of your hand, letting them leave a pattern up your arm until she reached your face, leaving a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even have money. And there were so many things that could go wrong, but wasn’t it worse in a place like this? There, you’d have a knowing of where Nat would be, she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. But would she ever really stop? Or was she just saying that to ease your worries? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. You’d always have Nat, in any way possible.

“Okay.”

[luveline]

heyy! can i req one with hotch where reader cuts herself on broken glass and hotch frets over her bc i just had that happen to me and BOY am i not feeling good 😀👍 ily tyy!!

love u! ty for requesting ♡

cw injury 

The mistake is always, always, trying to catch what you've dropped. You flinch down as the fragments of a glass cooking dish jump up and spread out across the kitchen floor —a gasp of pain, a hurting heat. 

"Ah," you hiss, turning your hand as blood drips down your wrist. "Shit." 

You rush away from the mess to the sink and turn the cold water on high. Your hand burns as you push it under the spray, and the water gains a weak orange tinge as it drains. 

"Did something break?" Hotch calls. 

You tip your head back, watching him approach from the hall. "I cut my hand." 

His expression changes from chagrined to concerned. "Oh, wow," he says, skirting around the circle of glass, "did you throw it?" 

"It slipped putting it back on the top shelf." 

Hotch brushes some glass aside with his shoe and stands behind you, taking your hand in his to pull from under the water. "How do I know you didn't break it so I'll stop asking you to do the dishes?" 

"Very funny. Oh…" 

"Two cuts," he worries, stretching your hand open carefully to point them out. A thin one stretches up through the top of your hand and up to your index finger. The second is worse to look at just below it. "Hey, it's fine." 

You turn your face away from the sight and incidentally into his. "Ew, I don't want to see." You peek at it. 

Hotch laughs and encourages your hand back under the faucet's running water. "Don't look at it, honey. I'll take care of it." 

He has to walk a long circle around the shards to the cabinet where you keep odd things. He seems both alert and calm as he grabs the first aid kit and returns, clicking it open on the counter and setting out a couple of things. "I'll put a butterfly stitch on the deeper one," he suggests, sliding into the box with his fingertip. "And a bandage, I think. It's not the most convenient place to have cut yourself, honey." 

"That's what I was aiming for," you mumble, wincing at the feeling of your hand as it numbs with the cold water, "convenience." 

He hums, a warm sound, and presses his thumb to the crook of your elbow briefly. "Let's dry you off." 

He dries your hand with care. The deeper cut continues bleeding, and so he holds a piece of gauze to it firmly and apologises with a much softer tone for the pain it causes. He checks intermittently to see if it's stopped, unafraid to press himself right up to your side, his breath fanning against your neck the only sound beside the drip of the tap and your own shallower breaths. 

He applies the butterfly stitch, trims the little wing so it doesn't irritate the second cut, and leans down to kiss your wrist. 

"What's that for?" you ask. 

"Healing properties." 

You laugh. "Really, Hotch?" 

He ignores your question, covering the weepy cut with a square of gauze and wrapping your hand in a spool of bandaging and tucking the end into your wrist. 

"It's overkill," he admits, taking you by the shoulders to kiss your cheek. He lingers there for a comforting second before pulling away. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. It's stinging like crazy." 

"I'll clean this glass and make it up to you." 

"It's not your fault." 

"That's not what I said." 

Hotch makes you a coffee somewhere between vacuuming and sweeping. You sip at it, watching in affection as he wipes a wad of damp paper towels. You don't need to do that, you'd said, frowning as your love sunk down onto his knees. You like to walk around without your shoes on, he'd said, of course I need to. 

It wasn't his responsibility. Your hand hurts but doesn't hinder. You could've cleaned it all yourself, there was no need for all the fuss, and still he did it without a second thought. He throws the paper towels away and washed his hands, damp fingers pressed to your neck as he leans down to kiss you. "Be careful of the wet floor, honey," he says, a hand trailing down your arm to the beginning of the bandage. "How's it feeling now? Still hurting?" 

You kiss your silly, overprotective sweetheart before you can think better of it. "It's okay. Thank you," you say in the slim gap of your lips. 

"It's nothing," he says, squeezing your wrist gently. "You're very welcome." 

[ynackerman9499]

Hello! This is me! 𝕪/𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟! This is my tumblr in case you don't know me i have a youtube channel which I upload texting stories videos to it! And this is my first post here in tumblr (original)

Some male Hashiras + kagaya reaction to you sacrificing yourself for them

⚠ Warning : spoiler in kyojuro and kagaya, take of death, blood, injuries, crying, some of them are really short

Giyu Tomioka

You and Giyuu were fighting against 2 demons who used a blood demon art

You killed one and Giyuu killed the other one

Or so you both thought...

"You did well giyuu_san!" You said smilling putting your sword in place

While giyuu just nodded humming as a silent 'thank you'

This only made you smile even wider. You've been friends with giyuu with great amount of time now

You both actually gets along very well Despite your different personalities

So you got used to his comforting quiet gesture

"All right! Let's head back n-"

You suddenly stopped sensing that something is wrong While giyuu looked at you wondering why you fell silent so suddenly

"Wh-"

You breathed in sharply, catching a glint in the air watching it whizz towards Giyuu.

"not on my watch!"

You yelled, quickly drawing your sword breaking the unknown object in half.

Giyuu's eyebrow twitched, taking his sword out of its sheath.

"giyuu, there!" You shouted, pointing to the direction of the demon that was currently perched on one of the trees.

The two of you gave each other a knowing nod, rushing towards the trees and jumped landing on one of the branches,

"come back here you coward!" You barked, skillfully jumping from tree to tree, following after the demon.

The demon hissed, sending metal shards towards you and Giyuu, which the two of you dodged with ease

"breath of ice..." you mumbled taking a deep breath

"dance of frozen crystals!"

Streams of sparkling diamond-like figures flowed out your sword as you jumped upwards, holding your katana over your head as you swung it effectively cutting half of it's body;

sadly, not his neck, as he covered it with a steel-like substance.

"Y/n!"

Giyuu called out, causing you to look back at him wondering why did he sound so worried

You saw he was looking horrified looking at your chest rather than your face

'why did he sound so-'

You were caught out of your thoughts by yourself coughing something liquid out of your mouth

You looked down at your chest, a large sharp metal shard piercing through the middle of your chest

"uh.. F-fuck.." you muttered stumbling back and falling against a tree vomiting even more blood feeling it a bit hard to breathe

"y/n! No!" giyuu shrieked running at your slumbering and bloody figure against the tree

"giyuu.. The d.. emon" You mumbled, coughing out a worrisome anmountof blood, the crimson liquid spilling out of your lips in mouthfuls.

"i cant leave you..." he whispered as of scared of starling you

"i cant you are in_" "... Dying"

You corrected him. Mastering the last energy you had to cup his face with your bloody hand while lying in his embrace

"i am.. Dying, Giyuu..."

"no.. No you are not.. You can slow the ble-" "my lungs are... damaged giyuu"

Tears burned his eyes, hugging you close to his chest and placed his hand over your cheek

"i.. Love you... Giyuu... So... Much.. " you confessed as you started to lose consciousness and struggling even more to keep your eyes open

You took a deep breath but sadly... It didn't come out again...

"y/n.. Y/n... Hey.." giyuu said with shaky voice as a couple of tears escaped his eyes

"hey...don't do this to me, love... I–i love you too... Why did you do this... I–i don't deserve this..."he said as he closed your lifeless eyes with his fingers

"i am sorry i am too useless to be able to protect you..." he was now on full mode sobbing

Oh how cruel is it that you didn't even hear the person you love saying thing you wanted to hear from him the most...

Obanai Iguro

No...

No no no no...

That wasn't supposed to happen...

The hit was meant for him...

It was meant for him damn it!

Why did you have to take it for him

He doesn't deserve it

He doesn't deserve to live

Why would he live while you are here dying in his arms gasping and wheezing for air

He is enraged

His fear tends to come out as anger

So while you are literally dying he is shouting at you for how stupid you are, how foolish to waste your precious live over his useless one

His shouting you mutter out an Inaudible : 'sorry... '

Just then the anger turns into tears

"you idiot..." he wailed... Actually wailed.. Something you never thought you'd see, not that you wanted to in the first place

It was supposed to be him...

"don't you dare apologise..." he hugged you even tighter feeling you fading away from him as you tried to breath but it only come out as a horrible choking sound as you choked on your own blood

His cheek rested on top of your head

"o-oba... nai.. " you said chocking in the middle of word as the hole in your chest began seeping even more blood

"g–give them.. H–hell for m–me... Yeah?..."

Oh he would...

He would make them pay for taking you away from him

For making the only person who kept him moving forward...

Is now cold and limb in his arms...

Sanemi shinazugawa

Fuck!

Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck!

He physically can't handle what he is looking at

As he refused to stop saving you even after you already stopped breathing

"shit! Shit!" he pressed harsher on the wound, the blood was slowing but not because of his relentless attempt...

You were gone... Not even being able to get a word out because of how harshly he was crying

For some reason... Even in your final moments you found it kind of comforting that he was try his best to save you

You felt your heart break looking at him from the other side hugging your cold, lifeless body... Trying to squeeze some warmth into it even though he knows its useless

Kyojuro Rengoku

You coughed out blood as akaza hand went through your stomach

"Y/N! NO!"

You took the hit for kyojuro

I mean... How could you not... You just couldn't let someone like him die

You just couldn't...

Gripping your sword harder, you slashed it against his neck making his eye widen

'she got in my way! And she still has the strength!

Akaza thought as he was amazed at how you still has the strength to even breathe

'Kyojuro, im going to die. I know. We had a life planned in front of us, but..l couldn't let you die. I just can't'

You thought as The demon tried to punch your face, but you stopped it with your other hand

"Y/N!!"

'you won't get away... Akaza!'

Looking behind the demon, but still applying force on the neck, you looked behind to see Rengoku with the boy from before charging at you with their swords.

A smile got onto your face.

'I wont ever let go off the sword ..Until I cut his head off!'

"INOSUKE MOVE! MOVE FOR Y/N-SAN!"

The boar now charged at you with speed His attack cut the demons arms, your sword still attached to his neck.

He was running away, clearly.

The boy threw his sword at the demon,.

stabbing him through the chest. Followed by Screaming of how he was a coward by running away and that both Rengoku and you were stronger than him.

You felt two gentle pair of hands gripping your back, drops of water, or tears, to your cheek as kyojuro took you in his embrace trying to stop the bleeding even though he knows it's a fatal wound

"Y/n.. No. No..please don't leave me! Please! I beg you! I will go down on my knees if it have to!"

"kyo... It's okay..." You say voice barely a whisper as you gathered all the strength you had trying to put your hand on kyojuro's cheek.

He quickly took your bloody hand in his and put it over his cheek

"no no... The hit was meant for me to take... Why did you have to get in the middle... Why.."

"i just couldn't.. Let–" vomiting blood "y-you... Die"

You said panting feeling like you can't breathe anymore...

Kyojuro the brust out sobbing burying his face in your neck as your body laid lifeless in his arms

It was supposed to be him dammit!

He was supposed to be the one protecting you!

Not the other way around!

On the other side tanjiro watching the scene feeling his heart break over and over again

Another love story between two lovers was ruined by those disgusting Creatures

Tengen uzui

after a long and hard battle you had ended up dangling off the side of a cliff barely holding onto an also seriously injured tengen.

He could feel your fingers slipping from his.

you were both tired and injured it was a tough battle and despite the demons head being cut off you had taken some heavy blows and now you were dangling off the side of a cliff, barely conscious as tengen held onto your hand with his

"dont worry y/n! ill pul you up Soon!"

you could see him struggling to hold your hand and knew that if he held on any longer he might go down with you

watching him struggle above you made your heart ache as you couldnt do anything to help

"Ten.."

the both of you made eye contact with each other

"thank you for being with me... I love you so much"

his eyebrows twitched at your words

"why does it sound like youre saying goodbye? y/n. You better hold into my hand!"

his jaw was clenched as he spoke to you

you couldnt leave him

if only he had killed that demon sooner

if only he could have protected you

in this moment he hated the gentle smile that was on your face

because to him it meant he had failed

"we both know we'll both fall if you dont let go, neither of us have enough strength left to do anything."

"its okay ten, im ready. i love you and I'll always be watching over you. live well"

he could feel your fingers one by one letting go of his hand and he tried as hard as possible to not let go

"y/n please! I.. I can't do this without you... "

you just shook your head

"im sorry ten but you have to, i know you can. you're going to do great things, with or without me."

"always remember that i love you... And i'll always be watching you"

With that, the last grip he had on you failed

the serene smile on your face was the last thing he saw as you fell to your probable death,

shattering his heart

he screamed your name on the top of his lungs as your hands disconnected followed by painful sobs

Not again...

First his siblings now you..

He lost so many loved ones

of course he knew that he was too injured to pull you up and the most he could have done was just hold onto you until help came,

If help came...

he hated this,

he hated himself

what was the point of being strong when he couldnt even save the one person he loved most in this entire world

"Live well" it was one of the last things you told him hed try his best to because you asked him of it but to him living well meant being by your side which was something he couldnt do anymore.

Muichiro Tokito

poor baby doesn't really know what to do

he's kneeling beside you with a worried look

he's sweating and his hands are clammy

he remains silent for the most part

"Y/n?"

He is right next to you, hand nervously taking your own

"Don't worry."

you give him a weak smile as scary as it was, just his presence was enough.

"|-what do I do?"

The fear in his face made your heart clench.

"Just stay with me. You dont need to do a thing..."

You squeezed his hand with the last bit of strength

you had, smiling softly

"Be careful okay? There are still a lot of demons left"

You didn't fear death,

but you did fear what would happen to those you

loved once it got to you.

Kagaya ubuyashiki

This took place before the explosion in the final battle era

Your husband's hand is cold in yours. You squeeze his

fingers and watch the moonlight bleed out the color of

his skin into silver.

"Are you well, love?" you ask quietly. A washbowl rests to your side, the cloth draped over the side dripping droplets of water down the floor. You take it and wrangle the water with one hand as best as you can,

laying it atop his forehead after. Kagaya closes his eyes and smiles beatifically. It looks painful.

"I will be fine," he says. A mere whisper; it runs wild in the echoes of the night. "| am certain... After tonight, everything will be fine again." You hum thoughtfully. Your heart turns like a clock,

mechanical, a slave to fate. You dare not tell him anything.

"I wonder. . " Kagaya starts. "How does the sky look tonight, Y/N?"

You looked up at the sky as the clouds moved to reveal the beautiful moon

"it's beautiful..." you said as he leaned into your hand as you caressed his cheeks

"he is here..."

A long shadow blocks the moonlight. You look up.

Plum red eyes stare back.

"It's finally nice to meet you, Kibutsuji Muzan," Kagaya says casually.

A chuckle flits in your ear, honey-thick and suave.

Muzan's jacket rests precariously on his shoulders,

and the wind picks up, as if trying to steal it away. The sleeves whip around him uselessly.

"Well;" he says. "You sure look terrible, Ubuyashiki."

If you do not look too closely, you can still delude

yourself into dreaming that this is a normal family.

Your twins have not stopped playing, and their

laughter mingles with the song.

*after the speech because i cant recall it 💀*

"Kibutsuji" You incline your head, a mockery of respect. "You may have prepared for everything.. But there is one thing you didn't prepared for.."

"and what would that may be?"

"this–" you pulled out teh explosion monitor and jumped on kagaya and just before it explored a room open under kagaya's bed and you both fell into a room underground where your kids were waiting for you to come and there was a secret door which led to outside

But it was quite the fall, but you shielded kagaya's body with yours as you he fell on top of you

"Uhmm... " Kagaya groaned from the pain of the impact but more at the though that you were hurt from the fall and his weight together

"it's okay... It's okay..." you said as you cradled kagaya's fragile body

"i just need you to hold on for me... Can you do that please?"

The explosion was loud on top of you but what was more terrifying was the piece of wood of the selling above you that was about to fall

So you quickly pushed kagaya out of the way just as the piece of wood fell on your lower body completely breaking it

"y/n! " Kagaya yelled as best as he could as he heard your crying of pain

"i am fine! I am fine!" You shouted as you tried to stop the tears from dropping from the pain

"kiriya! Listen! Take your father and run out of here!"

"b–but mo–" "no buts! This piece of seilling completely crushed my lower par! You won't be able to get it out! Even if you did i'd be just a burden! I won't be able to run! No go! Go!"

Kiriya quickly carried his father on his shoulder as best as he could

"no... Y/n... If we die... we die together.. That's a promise..."

"well.. Look like i have a change of plans, sorry love"

You said as you smiled sadly at him even though he can't see it

*time skip*

"CAW! CAW! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! KIBUTSUJI MUZAN IS DEFEATED! THE FINAL BATTLE IS OVER! CAW! CAW!"

Kagaya opened his eyes at the sound of the noisy crow.. And for the first time in years...

He sees the sky clearly as the curse marks started to fade from his body...

He quickly tried to ran into the place where his estate is supposed to be with only one though in mind...

'y/n...'

He opened his eyes clearly for the first time in years and the first face he wanted to look at was yours

"oyakata_sama! Wait! You are not fully recovered yet!"

The kakushi tried to warn him but he just didn't care

He wanted to see you, to touch you, to tell you how much you mean to him even though words cannot describe, to make sure you are alright

But what he saw made him stop and his blood run cold...

The estate.. His home... Your home.. Is now crumbled to pieces with you under all that

he quickly took off and tried to dig into the rubble in hopes maybe.. Just maybe.. You are still alive...

"master..."

The kakushis and the remaining of the hashiras felt thier heart break looking at thier master like this...

Nevertheless, they started to help thier master find his wife.. I mean.. You were like a mother and a big sister to them all...

"I found something!" one of the kakushi shouted as he saw your bloody hand sticking out of the rubble

They quickly ran to where he was and started digging even more, just as they reached your head they all stopped and stepped back for thier master to take a look at you...

"oh my dear..."

Kagaya quietly knelt down where your bloody upper body only was visible

He caressed your bloody

cheek just as you did with him a few hours ago...

Oh how beautiful you looked... Even if you were cold and pale with your lips starting to get blue..

He missed you so much that he almost forgot the way you looked...

You looked even more beautiful than he remembered even with the black circles under your eyes and the few wrinkles that appeared on your face and the grey hairs despite how young you are...

"oh love... How many times did i tell not to worry to much about me..." Kagaya whispered as he caressed your cold skin with a few tears falling from his eyes "like this you will age before time..."

He hugged you one last time before the kakushis free your body completely from the rubble and take you to bury your beautiful body

Today the world won peace.. But he lost his...

[empress-simps]

A Gryffindor's Grief

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Slytherin! Reader

CW: Reader's family and language

Genre: Angst

Masterlist

Note: My first ever marauders fic! Kinda nervous to post this ngl… I'm still thinking if I should make a second part. I want to hear what you guys think about this! Requests are open! Photos used are from Pinterest! Credits to the owner!

It was forbidden love, really.

Those little moments of not-so-accidental touches, stealing glances, and discreet smiles sent each other's way were your means of communicating with each other.

James Fleamont Potter, a Gryffindor boy that was absolutely smitten with You; Slytherin's Princess.

An odd combination that would only lead to chaos.

Being one of the sacred twenty-eight wizarding families meant that you command power and respect from everyone you meet— intentionally or unintentionally. The idea about blood purity, power, and influence was already in your mind as soon as you were able to grasp things your toddler brain could handle.

You were taught to only mingle with pure-blood families, people who could be useful and loyal to you, and those with power, influence, and wealth. Your family’s distaste for muggles and muggleborns were also ingrained into your mind, as if they programmed you to believe what they believed in. It wasn’t that hard, after all you were surrounded by rich witches and wizards who are blood supremacists.

For someone who grew up with those ideals and values, you thought it was right. Although, your belief came tumbling down the longer you spend time at Hogwarts and got to know James Potter and the rest of the Marauders.

James, he made you feel alive.

It felt as if he was the breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed. Away from that suffocating Malfoy Manor, the scrutinizing gazes of your family, and away from rich pure blood problems. Being with him felt exhilarating, he was the buzz in your life. James brought so much joy into your dark, lavish, and empty lifestyle.

It was quite funny, picturing him as your knight in shining armor, whisking you away from your pretty, gold cage.

"Malfoy!" Evan Rosier, a pure-blooded Slytherin raised his hand in your direction, motioning you to come over and sit beside him during breakfast in the great hall. Cold eyes like Lucius Malfoy's travelled in his direction, a questioning brow raised.

"Rosier, you are being too loud." She commented, walking, and sitting next to him before greeting the person beside him, Regulus Black.

"Good morning, Regulus."

"Good morning, Y/n."

Barty Crouch Jr. looked up from his meal and snickered at the both of you. "Good morning, Mum and Dad." He teased, greeting you both as Evan laughed along with the other Slytherins near them. Heck even Severus has a small smirk planted on his face. "If you wish to make your family line extinct, then please feel free to continue with your remarks, Crouch."

He smirked, putting his hands up in mock surrender "Just kidding, Y/n. Geez. Rough summer, I suppose?"

You felt your lips press into a thin line, an obvious answer to the question; It was horrendous.

Evan’s laughter slowly dies, he shakes his head, “Give her a break mate, she just got the biggest news of her life during summer. Isn’t that right Y/n-“

“Shut your mouth Rosier if you do not want to be hexed into next month.” Her empty threat really doesn’t do damage to Evan, he just shrugged, taking it as a warning that you’re not in the mood for jokes.

Your father, Abraxas Malfoy and older brother, Lucius Malfoy made a huge decision for your future. Hearing rumors here and there about their Slytherin Princess being romantically involved with a blood traitor in Gryffindor enraged your father, Abraxas. That will certainly not do, they will not sit idly and watch as the Malfoy name be... tainted with those rumors.

You remember how you felt dread entering your system, fighting the urge to run and throw up as you mustered up a façade, “Those are just baseless rumors, a plot to ruin my image in school." You held your head high, praying they do not see the truth.

Abraxas stared at you, his daughter, with a monotone expression. "Your brother and I do not care whether those ridiculous rumors are true or not." Lucius nods, agreeing. What a lie. You know your family well enough to not believe what comes out of their mouths in situations like this.

"We do not care if you had relations with the boy, even though it is rumored that he is a blood traitor, you knew well enough not to fool around with mudbloods. Well done, Y/n. Perhaps you could change his views, get him to join our cause.” Lucius looked at you. You could press your lips into a thin line, trying to find an answer.

 “That tactless boy's role is to only be a bed warmer for you, remember that Y/n." Your father stood from the chair he sat in the drawing room. Slowly walking towards you. “Although, I suppose it ends now. I heard Lady Walburga Black is looking for a potential bride to their heir, Regulus Black.”

After a week, it was official; You are to be wedded to Regulus Black, your friend, Sirius’ brother.

You could not do anything about the arrangement, what fight would you have put up? A young girl like you, who does not have any power, influence, and wealth could only suck it up and accept.

How you wish it was James you were betrothed to.

“James, you came.” You breathed out, seeing him take off the invisibility cloak. The moonlight in the astronomy tower complimented his features, he offered a small smile sitting beside you.

The stakes were high, you were sure underlings of your brother (and possibly father) in the school have their eyes trained to you as you enter another year in Hogwarts. You would need to find new ways to meet up with your lover. Regulus’ eyes discreetly looked towards James, who is undeniably looking at you.

“Wouldn’t want for my girl to be alone, you know?”

He joked, intertwining his finger with you, a second nature to the both of you. Squeezing his hand, you softly looked at him. “I missed you, pothead.” He leaned towards your face, kissing you on the forehead. One of the things he does that never fails to make you feel flustered. “I missed you too, love.” You rolled her eyes, slightly shoving him playfully, “Stop being sappy, Pothead.”

“You secretly like it, love. You can’t lie to me.” He grinned, although the last sentence made you tense up. James shot you a concerned look, noticing your body language. “Something wrong, love?” You were torn, deciding on whether you tell him about the engagement rather than keeping quiet and leaving him in the dark about your current situation.

“I got engaged.” Before you could even stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth. Shit. It wasn’t how she planned to tell him. The light atmosphere suddenly became dark and heavy. You can feel James turn rigid, freezing up as he muttered. “So, it was true, huh?” He scoffed bitterly, hurt overtaking his features. “James…” You gently called, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, turning his body away from you.

She tried to ignore the hurt she felt, pushing it down as she understood why James was acting this way.  “Sirius told me.” He choked out, still not looking at you. James really does know you well, answering the question you haven’t even voiced out yet. The slight tremble in his voice made your heart crack. You bit your lip, of course Sirius found out; he was still a Black after all.

“I love you, James. I really do.”

You spoke to him, you raised your hand, about to put a hand on his back that was still facing you but deciding against it before it touched him. Your hands faltering before dropping down to your sides. He shakes his head violently, his curly locks getting messier than they already were.

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that, love.” He pleaded, slowly turning to face you again, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Don’t say it like you’re about to leave me. This. Us.” He croaked; you felt his large hands placed on top of yours. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

“James…” You managed to utter out, voice getting caught at the throat.

James knew he was acting like a child, but damn- he never thought it could hurt this much. He pictured both of you marrying each other, living in a large house with a big backyard because he insisted it will be great for when you have kids. Merlin, he even imagined about 3 or 4 kids looking like the perfect mix of you both, running out and about with their names already carefully thought out.

out. He daydreamed that the both of you grow old, watching you tell stories to your grandkids about their grandfather’s mischief during your years at Hogwarts.

“I have to, James.” She chokes out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. Those four little words made James’ little bubble of happiness burst with just a bat of an eye.

“Don’t… don’t do this to me, love.” He pleaded; he even went down onto his knees as he saw you standing up from your place beside him. Poor James, luckily it was only you, the moon, and the walls of the Astronomy Tower watched him become a wreck.

“I love you, please remember that you will always have my heart, James. I wish you find happiness.” The part ‘without me’ was unsaid but was heard. It took a lot of courage, strength, and self-control not to fall apart. Deep down, you wanted James to say the same to you, proclaiming his love again for the last time you’ll be together.

“I love you Y/n, so much. No one will ever make me feel the way you did. I’ll find a way; a way for us to be happy together. I swear on my life.” He promised, looking at you straight in the eye. You could only close your eyes before smiling at him, trying to blink the tears away. Stars, you hoped James really does find a way.

“Goodbye, Potter.” She turns, walking away.

Maybe Slytherins and Gryffindors really aren’t meant to be together.

[weemssapphic]

resplendent

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Another little Kinktober fic! 🩸

Words: ~ 2.2k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: vampire!reader, nsfw (smut - minors DNI), period sex, cunnilingus, marking

A/N: I swear to god I received a request for vampire!reader eating Larissa out while she's on her period and I thought it would fit well for Kinktober BUT I CAN'T FIND IT ANYMORE fhughdksghfduk. so anyway. here it is. :) *runs away and hides*

“Gods, my love, you smell divine,” you purr seductively into Larissa’s ear, standing behind her as you pull her flush against you, your hand resting on her lower abdomen. 

Larissa is on her period and, as always during this time of the month, you can’t seem to keep your hands off of her. Your heightened sense of smell is driving you wild - blood is a natural aphrodisiac for you, your entire body prickling with an almost unbearable heat whenever you’re in the same room as your girlfriend while she’s on her period.

Larissa allows herself to lean back fully against you, sighing deeply as her eyes flutter shut. She pushes her lower belly into your hand and squirms slightly, placing her own hands over yours and applying a light pressure.

“Cramps?” you guess, pressing featherlight kisses to your lover’s neck - she tilts her head to the side to grant you better access and her pulse picks up almost imperceptibly. It drives you insane and you can feel your fangs slowly extend, drool beginning to pool in your mouth.

Platinum curls tickle your collarbone as Larissa nods, a frustrated huff leaving her lips. She pulls away from you and goes to sit on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs tightly together - as if that would somehow stop the scent of her blood from permeating the room.

“I’m sorry, I know this time of the month is hard for you,” she says, and it breaks your heart a little - you want to provide her comfort, you really do, but the mere scent of her makes you feel absolutely famished. You’ve only had human blood a handful of times in your life, usually going for animal blood, just like many of your peers. And, usually, people being on their period around you isn’t a big issue - you’ve trained yourself to be able to ignore the scent, and you always have an emergency supply of blood on you.

But when it’s the blood of your soulmate? The pull is almost too much to bear.

“I could give you a massage,” you suggest, trying to keep your voice level. Larissa’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, her bright sapphire eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them.

“Are you sure?”

You offer her a confident smile and stride up to the edge of the bed. “Lay back,” you instruct, and Larissa does as she’s told, settling back against the pillows and watching you curiously. She’s already dressed for sleep, wearing a deep crimson, silk pajama set, and you push her shirt up a bit to reveal her belly. Your fingers curl under the waistband of her pants, folding them down a bit to provide you better access to the area as you kneel between her thighs.

Her skin is smooth and soft underneath your hands, her abdomen bloated just a tiny bit, and you press your fingers into the tender flesh. Larissa lets out a soft groan and closes her eyes, squirming a little against your hands as they start to knead softly into her.

“Does that feel good?” you husk, your breathing growing more ragged by the second as Larissa starts to let out soft, barely audible noises of pleasure.

“Mmh… yes, thank you.” She pushes herself up into your hands and wiggles her hips - the action sends a fresh wave of her scent into the room and you feel your belly fill with heat as your cunt clenches around nothing.

“Larissa?” you ask suddenly, hating how breathless you sound. She opens her eyes - her pupils are slightly dilated and you bite back a groan. “Can I try something?”

Larissa’s cheeks turn pink - she’s pretty sure she knows what you’re about to ask. You’ve never made a secret of your intense desire for her during this time of the month, but she’s never suggested making love during her period before, so you figured she didn’t want to. But now, with the way her cheeks are flushing and her legs are gently - eagerly - parting for you, you’re starting to wonder why you hadn’t asked sooner.

“Tell me what you want to try,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire.

“I want to taste you.”

Brilliant white teeth sink into plush pink lips as Larissa moans, muffling the noise. “Please,” she murmurs, wiggling her hips again.

She watches you through heavy-lidded eyes as you crawl up her body, hovering over her as your fingers begin to undo the buttons of her shirt, then push it over her shoulders and discard it in a heap next to the bed. Your lips immediately find her collarbone, fangs grazing her skin as you kiss down the valley of her breasts, and you pepper the soft mounds of flesh with tiny bite marks, careful not to draw blood - you’ll have your share in a minute. Your lover is so sensitive around this time of the month, and each little nip and kiss draws a sinful noise from her throat as she arches her back off the bed in an attempt to get closer. 

Latching onto a rosy nipple, you begin to flick your tongue over the pert bud, licking and sucking until it has been tugged into a hard peak. You swirl your tongue in slow, sensual circles, tracing your hands possessively over Larissa’s swollen belly and reveling in the deep, raspy groans that your ministrations pull from her chest. You repeat the action on the other side, until both of her nipples are hard and glistening with your saliva, and Larissa’s own hand is sliding up her body to fondle her breast - anything for more stimulation.

Your lips begin to trail lower, marking her stomach in hues of red and purple until you reach the waistband of her pants. A smirk grows on your face as Larissa cants her hips upwards in anticipation, and you waste no time in dragging her pants down her legs, taking her underwear right with them and placing them aside - planting kisses down the length of her legs as you go.

The sight before you instantly makes you heady, borderline delirious - Larissa’s perfect little cunt, glistening not with her usual arousal but with blood. Deep red, wet, catching the light as it drips slowly out of her. Resplendent. 

The scent alone, this close and without the usual barriers of clothing or sanitary products, fills your nostrils like perfume - musky, metallic, heavy, divine. You let out a shuddering breath as you hook Larissa’s thighs over your shoulders - her folds spread open at the action and a bit of blood drips down onto the sheets beneath you.

The sheets… Larissa will be upset about those, but right now you don’t care - your mind is growing hazy and you couldn’t back out now if you tried. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lean in and run your tongue up Larissa’s slit. The moment you taste that first drop of blood, you feel your limbs begin to tingle, a deep, wanton groan clawing its way from your throat.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” you moan, flattening your tongue against Larissa’s cunt, exploring her folds and licking up every drop of blood she has to offer. You feel her hands settle on the back of your head and curl into your hair, pushing your face as close as possible to her core. “Does that feel good?”

Larissa whines, her fingers winding themselves even tighter in your hair, and you chuckle in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Another drawn out whine escapes her lips and you glance up just in time to see Larissa’s eyelids flutter shut, her brow creasing and her lips parting. You begin to lap at Larissa’s folds, the taste and the scent making your own clit throb. You almost feel satiated - like you’re having the best meal of your life - and yet you need more.

“Does this turn you on? Knowing I get to taste you like this?”

Larissa lets out a groan, rolling her hips and arching her back off the bed.

“Answer me, love.”

“Y- mmh - y-yes.” Larissa’s voice is much breathier than usual - you glance up again and smirk when you see her rolling her own nipple between her fingers, when you see her belly ripple as she writhes against the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whisper as you flick your tongue over Larissa’s clit - she moans and grinds her hips into your mouth, and you feel her blood smear across your chin. You must be covered now, the lower half of your face red and wet. “Look at me.”

She does, her pupils dilated with lust and her cheeks flushed. Her eyelids flutter - they look heavy, as though it’s taking all her strength to keep them open - particularly when you choose that moment to wrap your lips around her throbbing clit and suck. She draws in a sharp breath and her tongue darts out to wet her lips as her hips roll erratically against your face.

The noises she lets out are becoming more and more lewd as your tongue draws hard, fast circles around her sensitive bundle of nerves. You feel she may be close to coming undone completely - and you are, too. The tangy, metallic flavor of her heat is like nothing you’ve ever tasted - in combination with the musky, womanly scent that fills your nostrils, it causes the coil in your belly to tighten.

The pull is too difficult to resist - your tongue trails from Larissa’s cunt to her inner thighs and you nose the area. Her skin is warm and soft and a little sweaty, and you lick your lips before pressing them firmly to her tender flesh. Your fangs are extended and you graze them over the skin, drawing a whimper from your lover - when you glance up, you see her fist desperately at the sheets beneath her.

“Darling…” Her voice comes out a breathy whisper - it makes your entire body prickle with warmth.

“Shh,” you whisper, before sinking your fangs slowly into her skin. She draws in a sharp breath, her leg twitching, and you immediately flatten your tongue and soothe it over the puncture wounds, swallowing the drops of blood that have surfaced. Another gasp escapes Larissa’s mouth and she brings her hands to your hair, holding you firmly in place against her thigh.

“Such a good girl,” you murmur as you suck the remaining blood from the wounds, the taste like a drug to you.

“P-please…” Larissa squirms and you take pity on her, kissing your way across her skin back to her clit and circling the throbbing bud with your tongue. She bucks her hips into your mouth, her fingers twisting in your hair, her nails scratching your scalp.

Larissa’s thighs tremble around your head and she can no longer keep her eyes open - she drops her head back against the pillow, her chest heaving as she squeezes her eyes shut. Her jaw goes slack and her face contorts in ecstasy as pleasure washes over her. You place a warm hand over her belly as you lap at her folds, feeling her stomach muscles contract as she rides out her high.

When Larissa finally relaxes back against the covers, you pull away, the lower half of your face coated in a mixture of her arousal and her blood. She’s breathing heavily, her hands caressing her own body as she attempts to come back down to earth, and you crawl up to meet her. Her eyes widen as she takes in the messy sight before her.

“I’m sor-”

“Kiss me,” you command, and before Larissa can process your request, you crash your lips into hers. She lets out a surprised squeak, then a deep groan as your tongue slips into her mouth and twirls against her own. At first, you aren’t sure if she’s disgusted at the taste of her own blood, but then she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you flush against her, deepening the kiss and letting out a pleased hum.

“How do you feel now?” you mumble against her lips as you part for air. You have to bite back a groan as you look down at her - she looks divine, the blood from your mouth having smeared across her chin and nose - it stokes your appetite all over again.

Larissa’s cheeks turn pink and she bats her eyelashes, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Sated.”

It’s a sentiment you agree with - you feel as though a thirst you’ve had your entire life has suddenly been quenched. You ask Larissa to wait right there for you as you draw a bath for the two of you, then come to get her and help her into the water. She leans back into you, tilting her neck to the side and allowing you to litter her skin in faint bruises and shallow puncture marks as her eyelids grow heavy with sleep. You know that eventually the water will grow cold and you’ll have to wake her and coax her to bed - but for now, you’re content to simply love on her and admire the soft smile on her lips as she relaxes into you. Your lover. Your everything.

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch

[suguruplsr]

oh how you hate that man.

,, gn! reader , fluff + slight angst <3

“missed me?” suguru mutters into your skin. your tired eyes flutter open, unfortunately, graced with the sight of the black haired man on top of you. you don’t care for how he even got here in your house, or when he did. but you know why he’s here.

always for you. the person he can’t bear to leave behind.

“no.” you whisper. suguru’s heart should ache in sadness, but it only makes him feel more eager, hands roaming your body with fervor. “no?” you can hear the amusement in his voice, a slight smile forming on his face as his lips find your neck. you tilt your head, not answering and simply basking in the feather-like touches of his chapped lips.

but he pulls away, a hand reaching up to you neck and wrapping around it. no pressure, just his thumb running up your throat and guiding your head so you two lock eyes. “really?” “really.” you’re almost matching his grin. did he really think you could possibly miss the touches and presence of someone you’re now forced to kill. how funny.

no matter how deep your relationship is with him.

no matter how safe you feel trapped under him.

“say it again.” suguru hums, leaning down to take your lips, and you let him. but this time, you reciprocate. a gentle hand reaching up to his undone hair and raking through it as your lips fit together perfectly. it’s a rare passionate kiss, well, compared to the rush-filled ones you two have shared over the past year. late nights of your window wide open, being snatched up by the murderer who always seemed to sweet talk you into enjoying just one more night with him.

no matter how wrong it is.

but.. it’s okay.

you can just do it another time, you tell yourself.

“i don’t miss you..” you murmur against his lips, breathless as he pulls away with a laugh, humored by your resistance. “you do. you try to ignore it baby. the blood staining my hands..” suguru mumbles, biting your ear as his hands travel to your thighs, leaning back on his knees. “cuz you know, with you, these hands love you.” and you hate that he’s right, you hate that he’s so right because you just let him wrap your legs around him.

he’s willingly bringing himself to you.

it’s okay, you can just kill him next time.

suguru looks down at you knowingly while your eyes flicker away. “you love me?” he smiles, catching every subtle movement you make, before you can even utter your disdain. even the ones you don’t make speak to him. like the way your hands don’t move away from the familiar purchase on his stomach, flush against his v-line as if you would push him away. but he know you won’t.

you can’t.

you can’t do it.

not from how the only thing on your mind was to just feel him, to bypass all the mixed emotions and confusion you desperately want to express. he knows how to make you feel good.

yea, that’s all.

“sometimes..” you sigh. maybe that’s why you’ll just indulge him for now. you’re too tired for his mind games. as if you two aren’t completely different people now, with completely different morals, lives, and values outside of your room. outside the room where you two confide in your love, sex, affection.

something only suguru know how to provide to someone like you.

someone on such a high pedestal.

just not higher than the people who want his blood on your hands.

“i know.” suguru chuckles. “but i’ll always love you.”

you remember those words exactly as satoru repeats them to you, a solemn look on his face. “those were his last words to me?” you clench your fists, calming your trembling fingers as he nods. “well i don’t care.” oh but you do. he knows. satoru will always know. he watches your figure walk away. he’s the only one that can see how you experience the internal battle in your head. tears almost breaking free of your blurry eyes to flow and curse the man.

the man who turned your teenage life into a jungle of love and adventures.

the man who twisted your mind into one of hate and despise for him.

the man who ruined you.

you hate him. Geto Suguru, whose only chain of his past before corruption was you.

you hate that man, you swear.

but, oh how you still love him..

[eyebagshawty]

Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

-

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 8

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: ⚠️graphic⚠️ murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, canon typical violence, guns, suicide,

Part 1

"Can this skirt go any lower?" You tugged at the fabric. "It can but any lower and your bush is likely to show." Tatum laughed fixing the skirt back where she had it. "Yeah no. I'm not wearing this. It doesn't fit anyways." She rolled her eyes grabbing your bell bottoms. "Okay then, wear these again but I'm going to pick out a shirt." Sydney was already changed. She was busy fixing her hair while you and Tatum fought over clothes. "Here." You changed into your pants and put on the crop top Tatum gave you. "Oh yeah this is 10 times better. Wait." She rummaged through her jewelry box handing you a gold chain necklace.

You pulled it on over your head and she just laughed. "No. Give it to me." She wrapped it around your exposed waist latching it behind you. "There, it's a belly chain." Of course she would have something with a name like that. "Now just fix your hair and we'll be ready to go." You walked into the bathroom with Sydney giving her a look. "Honestly you look really cute. Tatum likes to be a little over the top." She couldn't have warned you earlier? "Thanks." You quickly fixed your hair to the best of your ability.

Your lipgloss was sticky and your purse was light on your shoulder. Dewy looked you up and down quickly looking away when he realized what he was doing. "You kids ready?" He said as he looked around the room. "Let's go party!" Tatum shouted pulling you and Sydney to the car. Dewy barley had time to grab his keys. "Please don't drink too much tonight mom would flip if she found out." Tatum sighed. "I know Dewy thank you."

Dewy dropped you and your friends off at the grocery store leaving you to pick up some food. "Hey can you go grab the cheese dip?" Tatum asked you. "Sure thing." You walked through the store not sure where anything was. Hell you didn't even know what kind of cheese dip she wanted. You grabbed a random one hoping it would do the trick. "This work?" You met the two at the end of the isle. "Perfect." She sat the can in the cart along with other snacks. "Anything else?"

Once everything was paid for Dewy drove you and your friends to familiar house of Stu Macher. "Don't have too much fun." He said as you all jumped out bags in hand. "There's a lot of people here." You said a little anxious. "This is nothing you should've been at the pool party he threw sophomore year." The front door was wide open letting anyone in. You looked around the crowded house of inebriated teenagers. Tatum and Sydney walked with purpose towards the kitchen.

"Oh that's mature." Tatum said watching her boyfriend hold up a funnel that another boy was chugging a beer from. "You're late. The party's done started without you. My man." He high-fived the boy as he stood up. Sydney and Tatum shook their head with a laugh. "Damn I didn't know who you were for a second. Tatum you didn't say you were bringing Barbie to the party." Stu eyed you up and down but it made you feel gross. This outfit wasn't you and "Barbie" is not the nickname you unfortunately grew fond of.

"She cleans up nice doesn't she?" Tatum said proud of her work. "Hand me a beer." You said making Stu's smile fall just a bit. He knew he couldn't break character not when every little thing counted tonight. "One beer coming up." He turned grabbing an unopened bottle on the counter passing it to you. "You'll need this." He pitched you the bottle opener letting you pop the lid yourself. "Is Billy here?" Sydney asked looking at the crowd. "I sent him on a beer run so he'll be late." Sydney nodded deciding to find the nearest couch.

You took a swig of the disgusting liquid trying not to make a face. "Is it good sweetheart?" Stu teased knowing you'd never drank before. "It's great thanks." You said hoping to drink a couple more of those and speed up the night. Tatum soon dragged Stu away leaving you standing in the kitchen. "You're that chick that wears all that I love Lucy shit to school right?" Some asshole asked making you take a big swig of the fermented liquid. It was going to be a long ass night.

An hour passed with no sign of who you thought were your friends. The kitchen had cleared leaving you with a bunch of empty beer bottles that weren't yours. You were barley able to finish the one. "There you are I've been looking all over for ya." Your eyes were closed in all honesty they burned too much to stay open. Stu looked at your sleeping form quickly rewriting the plan. "Y/n?" He poked and shook you but you didn't utter a word praying for him to just leave you alone. "Works for me." He threw you over his shoulder similar to how he picked up Tatum earlier that day. Your purse strap drug into your neck as he held you upside down. All the kids were too excited to notice your limp body being carried around by the host. Quickly he laid you in the coat closet in a what he assumed was a drunken stupor.

It was a better idea than you getting hit in his book. He would hate if something actually bad happened to you. Stu shut the door and checked the time. "All right everybody curfew!" Stu shouted ushering everyone out of the home. "Tatum come on!" Sydney yelled to an almost empty house. "Do you know where she is?" Stu shrugged. "Nah I haven't seen her." Billy appeared at the front door on schedule. "Hmm what are you doing here?" Stu said his acting wasn't winning him any awards. "I was hoping I could talk to Syd alone."

"I'll tell you what why don't you guys go up to my parents room. You can talk or whatever." Stu clapped his hands suggestively. "Subtlety Stu you should look it up." Billy shook his head at his eager friend. Stu bit his lip in anticipation. "No, no he's right. We do need to talk." Sydney said holding out her hand. As Billy walked in he hit Stu in the groin playfully. "Ooh." Stu said in pain. Time went on, Tatum was still no where to be seen almost forgotten while Sydney and Billy holed up in the room upstairs. Stu laid out watching Halloween with some stragglers from the party.

Randy stood up pausing the movie. "There are rules to surviving a horror movie." He went on with his rant the crowd getting rowdy ever so often. "Alright I'm getting another beer you want one?" He asked randy as he walked towards the kitchen. "Yeah sure." Slowly Stu opened his eyes wide about to piss Randy off. "I'll be right back!" He said those forbidden words making everyone shout. "See you push the laws and you end up dead. Okay I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife." Randy proclaimed. Stu had no intention on going back into the living room.

Upstairs Billy started to put his shirt back on. "You okay?" He asked Sydney not really caring about her answer. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She grabbed a hairbrush from the night stand brushing out her hair. "Where's the beer?" She asked as she pulled on her shoes. "What?" Billy asked fixing his shirt. "Well Stu said you were late to the party because he told you to go get beer. I was just wondering where it was because when I saw you, you were empty handed." Billy tied his shoes thinking of a quick answer. "I dropped it off in the garage."

Sydney shook her head to herself not believing him. "You don't think I'm the killer do you?" She breathed out a laugh turning to look at him. "No. I just think the timing is funny thats all. For you to show up at my place after Casey was murdered would be a pretty good alibi. Running out go murder people just to show up here with me after the fact. It would be smart that's all." Billy's eyes were hollowed of emotion as he starred at the woman he so despised. "Really?" His voice was flat different than just seconds ago. Slowly he stood up leaning on the bed with his hands. "What do I have to do to prove to you I'm not a killer?" His whole demeanor scared Sydney. "Oh my God." She said as everything seemed to make sense.

Sydney glanced up seeing the killer slowly come up behind Billy. "Huh?" He asked growing impatient. "Oh my God." She backed away terrified. "Sydney." Billy pleaded. "Billy watch out!" She cried watching her boyfriend get stabbed to death by the masked man. Sydney sobbed as Billy reached his bloody hand out whispering her name with what little air he had left. Ghostface chased after her all through the upstairs of the house. Luckily for the man under the mask it was his home. He knew the layout better than anyone. Sydney opened up the attic window screaming for help. She climbed through praying for someone to save her.

Ghostface grabbed her arm causing her to fall back off the roof and onto the boat. The wind was knocked out of her from the fall. As fast as she could Sydney rolled of the boat onto the ground. Looking up she could see her friend Tatum, hanging bludgeoned and bloody from the garage door. She couldn't bring herself to scream at the sight all she knew was she needed to run. Ghostface disappeared from the window running downstairs to see the coat closet door open with you no longer in it.

"Fuck." He cursed running outside to find Sydney. She had jumped into the news van screaming at the man inside that a killer was chasing her. The camera man stood with the door open waiting for the hidden camera placed by the News reporter to catch up showing where ghostface had went. As he turned around to look towards the house ghostface slit his throat like a warm knife through butter. Sydney screamed trying to shut the door but the man in the mask was faster. The hunting knife now wiped clean by the hygiene conscious killer stabbed the girls shoulder making her cry out.

Quickly she crawled through the van leaving ghostface behind. Dewy and the reporter ran towards the commotion hoping to help whomever needed it. Dewy wanted to save the day while his date wanted the notoriety from it. "Gale use the phone in the van and call for backup. I'm going inside." He said like a selfless hero not knowing what horrors awaited him inside. Gale saw the pool of blood quickly realizing she was in one of the many stories she's exploited. Without much thought she jumped in the driver's seat grabbing the phone.

"What's going on?" Randy asked being met with a phone to the face. She hit him several times till he eventually fell to the ground nose broken and bloody. She threw the phone starting the van instead. If she was saving anyone, it was going to be herself. Blood covered the windshield blocking the view of the road. Turning on the windshield wipers she gasped at the gorey scene. As she drove the car hitting the breaks, the body of her camera man slowly fell into view. She scream trying to fling him from the car. Just as he hit the ground Sydney ran out screaming bloody murder.

The van spun out of control off into the grass hitting a tree head on. Without checking on the driver Sydney ran back towards the house. Her screams stopped once she understood no one could hear her but the killer. She had lost all her friends. Billy, Tatum, and presumably you. She watched as Dewy stood at the front door. "Dewy!" She yelled thankful to have someone help fight off death himself. "Sydney?" He asked as he fell to the floor. The same hunting knife sticking from his back. "No, No!" She screamed watching ghostface pull the knife from his back.

Running back she shut herself into Dewy's car. Hitting a button to lock all the doors. Sydney searched for a key but it was nowhere to be found. Turning to her left she saw the killer shake the keys taunting her. He dropped to the ground out of eyesight. The doors all unlocked at once leaving her to quickly manually lock them back. Seeing the radio on the dash she grabbed the mic clicking the button on. "Hello! Help me please I'm at Stu Macher's house on turner lane. That's 261 turner lane please he's gonna kill me-"

Ghostface grabbed her by the neck but Sydney quickly flipped around kicking him repeatedly. She fell out of the car running to grab Dewy's gun. "Sydney!" Randy screamed. "Sydney, Jesus we need to get the fuck out of here!" She cocked the gun ready to fire if need be. "Stop right there!" Her words were deadly. Stu came from the left gaining up on the limping Randy. "It's him Syd." Stu said distraught. "He killed Billy, you killed my friend!" Randy inched closer making Sydney back up into the open house. "You did." Randy said and Stu yelled back "You killed him!" Stu cried.

"I didn't." Randy defended himself as Stu threw him to the gravel. "Sydney baby please give me that gun. Give me the gun it's him I swear." Stu cried with outreached arms. "Fuck you both!" She spit as she slammed the door in their faces. Stu and Randy beat on the door trying to convince Sydney to open it. "Go away!" She sobbed. Billy crawled to the steps in pain. "Syd?" She gasped as her boyfriend fell down the steps. "Oh my God!" She helped him up as he mumbled almost incoherently.

Billy inched his way to the door. "No the killer's out there!" Sydney warned. "Give me the gun. Give me the gun it's okay." His voice was clearer now lacking the debilitating pain that was evident moments ago. "It's okay." He whispered taking the gun from his girlfriend. He opened the door letting Randy run in. "Woah woah get in." He said looking around outside before shutting the door. "Stu's flipped out. He's gone mad." Randy said scared out of his mind. "We all go a little mad sometimes." Billy delivered his line shooting Randy for dramatic effect.

Sydney cried running to Randy's aid. Scratching his head with the barrel of the gun Billy spoke. "Anthony Perkins, Psycho." Sydney stood up looking at the stranger she's known for years. Sucking the fake blood from his finger tip he smiled. "Corn syrup, the same stuff they used for pigs blood in Carrie." The tired girl stumbled backwards mumbling small protests trying to tell herself this wasn't real.

Stu stood in the doorway to the kitchen looking just as upset as Sydney. She covered her face next to his chest seeking refuge. "Stu... Help me please." She pleaded. Slowly he revealed that little box that has helped end so many lives. "Surprise Sydney."

It was freezing outside but you've been through worse. Slowly you crept around the house trying to find a way in. The front door was opened a brunette walking slowly into the house. You watched as she quietly picked up the gun sitting on the counter. "I'm feeling woozy here!" Stu said in distress having more life threatening wounds than his partner. Billy and Stu turned towards the sound of a pained gasp. They watched as Gale Weathers and the gun hit the floor. "Y/n?" Stu asked as you stared shocked at what you'd just done. "She was going to shoot you."

"Y/n please help they're crazy!" Sydney cried out. "You had one fucking job Stu!" Billy yelled. "Give me the knife Y/n and I won't hurt you." Billy watched the facade fall. Like a scene in a play, the act was over. "Are you serious? You won't hurt me?" Both the boys were obviously confused not knowing what to do next. "Billy Loomis. You really don't remember me do you?" He cocked his head to the side not wanting to do this right now. "I'm not playing your silly game-" You picked up the gun switching the safety off.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done hearing you talk. Bossing people around thinking you know everything. You don't know shit." Stu looked genuinely scared while Billy was just amused. "Middle school was hell for me. I was being beat up and mistreated every, fucking, day. Until one day you stood up for me. Broke the assholes nose who was trying to pull off my shirt, do you remember that?" His eyes lit up remembering that day very vividly. That was the first time he had ever hit someone. "I fell in love with you that second. You cared about me enough to stop the endless cycle of hate that was putting me on the fast track to an early death."

"I didn't even know you. Any guy would stop something like that." You laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. The teachers I came crying to didn't give two shits, my own fucking family told me just to "stand up for myself or grow a backbone" and things like this wouldn't happen. Is it so wrong to need someone's help?" Stu shook his head as if you were directing this whole thing towards him. "Do you remember what you did the week afterwards?" You asked Billy.

His brain frantically searched for some semblance of a memory. "No I don't." He replied honestly. "Well before school started I walked up to you and your friends. I told you that I liked you and wanted to take you out sometime. The old fashioned way. Your friends laughed because they knew me as the push over slut bag everyone took me for. But you." You pushed the gun forward gritting your teeth. The pain of it all coming right back to you like it happened yesterday. "You were different, you stood up for people. You were a hero, my hero. So what did you do? You saw your friends laughing and felt embarrassed. You laughed in my face calling me a "crazy bitch.""

"And you're not?" Billy snapped feeling like a fly caught in a web. You laughed. "What does all this make you Einstein. News flash you're not Norman Bates. You're just a man. That's scarier than every monster on the screen." You paced back and forth never taking an eye off anyone in the room. "Just give this up the cops are on their way I called them." Sydney cried making both the boys panic. "Did you check the cord to the radio Syd? I cut it after you took a little hike. Anyways where was I?" You tapped the tip of the knife in your other hand to your chin in thought. Sydney spewed curse words at you but you had bigger fish to fry.

"That's right. You laughed but that wasn't enough for you, no. You told your friends you slept with me and they told their friends, eventually everyone knew me as a whore. Funny thing is I had never done a sinful thing in my life. I was just a kid who wanted someone to care about me! To protect me in a way I couldn't protect myself." Tears fell from your eyes but you weren't crying. "I left my grandparents house moving away with my dad. It wasn't until I saw the headline "local woman murdered viciously in Woodsboro" that I came up with a plan."

Sydney hung her head loudly sobbing. "I saw a picture of You and Sydney and it all came back to me. You were good once Billy I could see that from the moment I met you but something rotted inside of you and don't you dare blame it on her or her mother." You pointed towards Sydney. "I dyed my hair, changed the way I dressed, the way I talked, the movies I liked, everything I made specifically for you. And it worked! Your sorry ass fell for it. Everything you thought you knew about me was a lie."

"You called Sydney..." Stu said in astonishment. This should scare him but it didn't in the slightest. Stu realized he had been looking up to the wrong person all along. "I did! That night at my house I put Zolpidem in your food. You two were too busy staring at my ass to notice. While you were both dead asleep I used the voice box I stole from Stu's home Wednesday night to call Sydney. Oh but how did I know about your little plan you ask? Well while I was roaming through your house that night I found the ghostface costumes and your little voice boxes. And Stu baby, you had your whole plan written down in your diary."

Billy's eyes widened with rage. "Don't look at him like that Loomis." You snapped at the boy grabbing his attention once again. "This is about you and me. All I wanted was to take care of you and when I found out you and Stu were a package deal I was down for double the chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, the works. I thought we could be our own fucked up nuclear family. But you can't do a damn thing right. I've got yet another mess to clean up." You gestured around to the blood splattered kitchen.

"Like I said before men are cocky. They go in and they play around. So I'll give you a choice Billy. You can finish this." You waved the gun at Sydney and her father causing her to cry out begging you to stop. "Sydney this has nothing to do with me. I'm here on personal business. Now either take care of this and we three walk out of here alive or I'll take care of it and be the sole survivor of the Woodsboro massacre."

"You're one sick bitch you know that?" Billy spat as he picked up his knife. "Yeah well we all have our flaws." You look over at Stu watching him go in and out of consciousness. "Stu get up and come with me honey." Slowly the injured man limped over to you. "I'm going to check his wounds. Don't think you're smarter than me cause you're not. Finish what you started." You walked Stu into the living room sitting him down on the couch. The sounds of Sydney's screams piercing your eardrums. You lifted his shirt seeing how many stabs wounds he had and where. "Why are you doing this?"

"Love makes you do crazy things Stuart. Now, most of these wounds should be fine but the one by your stomach looks really deep so I want you to put pressure on it." Sydney's screams stopped as you continued to help Stu. "I want you to know what you did here tonight was really fucking stupid." You said a little disappointed in your easily manipulated friend. Stu started crying pulling you into a bloody hug. "I just wanted to start over." You knew how that felt. "We will." You whispered as you pulled away. "Keep putting pressure." You reminded as you stood up.

Walking back into the kitchen you saw Sydney's lifeless body. "Okay before you kill him," You pointed towards the tied up man. "You need his DNA under her finger nails. Did she scratch you at all?" Billy shook his head. You leaned down grabbing her hand forcing her nails across her father's skin. "She doesn't look like she put up a fight." Billy quipped acting like a detective all of a sudden. "The moment she saw it was her father she would put her guard down a little thinking she could somehow talk him out of it. This is fine, take care of him and I'll make sure she's dead." You walked towards Gale hearing her ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you hurt them." You apologized before stabbing her once more.

Billy smiled at the words you thought he couldn't hear. He thought you were crazy and you certainly were but you were crazy for him. You could've turned them both in and saved yourself some time yet here you were helping out. Not cause your sick and love to kill. But because you loved them. You were protecting them, the one thing you wanted for yourself that's why you were so mad.

"Give me the gun and leave I don't want you to see this." You laughed rasing your voice slightly to ask Stu a question. "Stu, honey where do you keep your dish towels?" Stu answered with what little energy he had left. "Thanks." You walked over the corpse in the floor grabbing a red colored dish cloth. The gun was soon wiped clean of your finger prints. "Prop him up in the corner when you do it, make sure to keep the towel around the gun when you fire. After that put it in his grip. Do you know if he's right handed or left?" Billy just looked at you stupid making you face palm.

"Which wrist is his watch on?" Billy crouched rolling the man over as he yelled against duck tape. "Left." Billy stood back up waiting for your directions. "Okay so he's right handed. Don't fuck this up Billy." You handed him the gun wrapped in the rag. "We don't have much time. Speed this up." You stood waiting for him to finish it. "Please leave. Just go watch Stu. I don't want you to see this." You didn't understand the change in heart considering the amount of blood on every surface in this house and the body laying at your feet. Billy however actually listened to what you said. You'd never been taken care of and he was going to right his wrongs. He would fix this.

Stu would get his sequel, rom com or not and you would get the security you always wanted. "Okay but don't pull any shit or I'll kill you." Billy laughed at an incredibly inappropriate time. "Understood." You walked into the room with Stu noticing he was asleep. "Fuck. Wake up babe." You shook the boy slowly getting a response. "Hey come on I'm going to take you outside the cold air might help you stay away." Stu mumbled a response as you dragged him outside.

Stu jumped at the sudden gunshot making him cry once more. Blood loss sure does make a person emotional. "Hey, hey, shh. I'm right here." His head rested on your chest as you rocked him back and forth. "My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me." He cried and you giggled. "Nobody's going to find out. It's okay." Billy stepped outside looking at the two of you huddled together. "Y/n?"

"Yeah what's up?" You asked laying Stu down on the porch. "I need help cleaning some stuff up." That's what you were good at. Quickly you got rid of some evidence, cleaned some things, and now came time for more blood. "The rags around it just stab me right here." You pointed to the spot knowing it wouldn't do much damage. Billy held your knife with a now shaky hand. "I can't." You scoffed. "You threatened to hurt me earlier just do it." He shook his head. "I can't hurt you." This conversation was starting to piss you off. "That's bullshit you've hurt me before just fucking stab me already."

"I won't." He said through gritted teeth. "You said everyone has a reason for doing something. I had my reasons for killing whether you think they're bullshit or not is irrelevant. I've got a reason to change now, to be better." You rolled your eyes grabbing the wrapped knife. "Where did you get that thing anyway?" Billy asked pointing to the exact same knife they had. "I just bought the same one that Stu had stashed at his place. It fit in my purse so the rest is history." You held the knife where you wanted it before running right into a wall lodging the knife deep within your skin. "Mother fucker!" You screamed at the pain.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" He said shocked by what just happened. "We've got to convince everyone we are the victims. Neil is a big guy he's killing everyone I'm not an exception." Billy cursed under his breath. "You are the smartest dumb woman I've ever met." Billy pulled the knife from your side making you cry out and hit the floor. Billy's hand rested on your forehead not really sure how to comfort you. "Just breathe?" He asked making you laugh through the pain. "I'm not in labor asshat go put his fingerprints on the knives while I call 911." Billy didn't move. "Now." You said trying to lift yourself up. He stood helping you up to your feet.

Billy laid the one weapon next to Sydney making sure to put Neil's finger prints on it. While the other fit in his pocket. "Now go lay somewhere and don't fall asleep. After all of this you can't die on me." You told him as you picked up the phone. "911 what's-" You coughed into the phone cutting the woman off. "Please help me!" You cried making it sound like you didn't have much time left. "What's your location ma'am?" Fuck you didn't know Stu's address but then again why would you. "I don't know... I- I went to a party with my friends and everyone's dead." You cried throwing in moans of pain. "Are there any mailboxes or road signs around?"

"I've been stabbed..." You said quietly actually getting light headed. "Ma'am I need you to stay with me is there a mailbox or road sign around?" She repeated being absolutely useless. You thought back to when you met them for the first time. Things were simple then. The drive over with Stu laughing and cracking jokes, and Billy spent the whole ride brooding trying not to laugh at your jokes. You could barley remember the bent up road side. "Turner lane." You said as you dropped the phone landing right beside it. "Ma'am? Ma'am are you there?"

Billy laid in the kitchen floor just a little away from the two corpses. As he looked up at the ceiling his body started to ache even more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He had been selfish he realized that now. Billy had two wonderful people who loved and cared for him and he did nothing but use the both of you. He was going to change he swore on it. That sickening feeling of fear crept into his stomach once again at the thought of something happening to you or Stu. You may have lied to him. One could say he didn't know the real you at all. You were a first for Billy, you were the first person to scare him, the first person to stand up to him, and the first person he truly wanted to save.

(If your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 9

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Pairing: ReaderXEddieMunson

Request: i don't remember reading something like this before and i thought it might be nice. a smut where they suddenly start kissing rough during a big fight like in films/series? they might be fighting because of jealousy or something else and the fight is going really hard, (they don't hit each other) but maybe eddie is throwing things against the wall and breaking them and the reader is pushing him by the shoulders etc., with the intensity of the fight, something can be ignited and I thought it could be a really tough smut

Word Count: 3.3K

18+ Only

Smut, Rough sex, there is verbal fighting, name calling, and throwing of things but never violence at each other

“Are you fucking serious right now Eddie!?” 

Your chest heaved, blood boiling in your veins, making you feel as if you were incinerating from the inside out. Was he really going to stand there and accuse you of this when he did it all the goddamn time, assuring you it meant nothing?

“I saw you, sweetheart! You were practically in his goddamn lap!”

“I was not! Jesus Christ! I was sitting on the stool next to him. We were just talking. I haven’t seen him since high school so he was asking what I’ve been up to.”

Eddie snorted, his eyes rolling up into his head. “Yeah. I’m so sure Billy Hargrove was real interested in a conversation and not your tits that were practically in his face, begging to be touched.”

The rage that was building within you had you trembling. It slithered like an ugly disease down your arm and into your hand. You grabbed the ashtray from the end table and chucked it at him. He ducked just in time as it smacked into the wall with force behind him. 

“What the fuck!?” he yelled, those brown doe eyes now dark with fury. “What is wrong with you?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me! I sit there every fucking time you have a show and watch while girls hang all over you! You smile and laugh and tease them! You make them think they have a shot with you! You pose for pictures and sign their fucking tits! You sit there like a king on your fucking throne, soaking it all up, loving being the rock star that all the groupies want a shot with! And you’re always telling me it means nothing! I have to just accept it if I’m with you! But I have one goddamn conversation with a guy…”

“He’s not just a guy! He’s your fucking ex!”

“Yeah! He is! Ex being the word that matters here! I’m not with him. I’m with you! I chose you and I keep choosing you but you never fucking choose me!”

His mouth dropped open, sounds of disbelief and disgust spluttering from him. He folded his arms across his lean chest, rising up to full height, towering over you. You didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. Eddie could be a jerk but he would never lay a hand on you. 

“I choose you! I could have any of those fucking girls I want! They want to come home with me! They’ve heard I can show them one hell of a time and they practically beg me to show them! But I don’t because I have you!”

“Oh! Well so sorry you’re saddled with me! That can easily be fixed you know!”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, princess?”

“You can leave anytime you want if this isn’t making you happy anymore! Yeah! You know what? Maybe you should! Then you can actually live out your sad small town rock star fantasy! You can bring a different whore home every night and show her what a good time you are.” You paused, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “But what fucking home will you bring her back to when you don’t have me to foot the bills so you can run off pretending you’re Tony Lommi?”

“We’re really going to do this again?”

“Do what again?”

“Bitch about me not pitching in enough around here! You knew what I was when you decided to be with me. You told me you were good with me working part time so I could focus on my music.”

“That was three fucking years ago! How long are you going to keep it up!?”

“You used to support me! You used to believe in me!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only fueling your anger more, because you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want him to see how much his words had hit their mark, like an arrow hitting the bullseye. 

You had supported Eddie. You had supported him. You’d encouraged him to go for his dream but his dream was now killing both of you. You couldn’t take it. Night after night watching women throw themselves at him, watching him encourage it, eat it up, relish the attention. Working twelve hour shifts, dead on your feet, just to cover rent because Eddie couldn’t possibly take on more hours if he was going to get that new song finished.

“Yeah, I did, and you used to act like I mattered!” you spat. 

“You matter!”

“Do I? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! When’s the last time you spent any time with me that wasn’t in the fucking bed, Eddie? That’s all I’m good for anymore! You don’t want to watch a movie or go down to the lake like we used to! I’m nothing but a toy you bring out when you need to quench your urges and then you put me back on a fucking shelf!”

“Bullshit! I invited you to band practice last week and you said no!”

“Oh! Thanks so much for wanting me to be there! We both know you just want an audience! You want someone to worship you and tell you how amazing your music is. I’m your girlfriend Eddie! I’m not some fucking groupie who’s just there to fawn over you and spread my legs!”

“No? Well, you sure acted like one tonight with Hargrove!”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out!”

“This is my apartment too!”

“The fuck it is! You don’t pay for shit and my name’s on the lease!”

“You seriously want me to leave?” he growled.

“Yes! I want you gone! I’m done! I’m not doing this shit anymore!”

“Oh! Oh! I see what this is. You gonna call your roid rage boy toy once I’m gone? What sweetheart? You saw that mullet again and just couldn’t help yourself? You going back to him?”

You should say it but you couldn’t help yourself. Not after week after week of questioning if Eddie wasn’t just giving all those girls attention. Not after nights staring at the clock, wondering if he was off with one of those groupies, temptation too much for him to handle. Not after the way he’d just assumed you’d be willing to do the same. Staring him down, you challenged, “And so what if I am?”

His arm shot out and you shrieked, flinching, your hands coming to either side of your head as a shield. The crash of broken glass shocked you to your core as he grabbed the nearest thing to him, the lamp, and threw it with all the force he had against the wall. 

You stared at him, silent, shocked as he glared down at you, chest heaving, each breath straining the fabric of the fitted shirt he’d started to wear ever since a groupie told him he should show off his body more. 

“You want to go to him! You’re gonna leave me for that piece of shit!” he raged, flinging magazines from the end table one by one, nowhere in your direction, just satisfying thunks against the wall that punctuated each word he spoke. “You think he’s gonna be better to you than me!” His hand snatched the little elephant that he’d bought you from the zoo, the tiny figure cracking as it made contact with the wall next. “You’re just gonna walk away!”

“You asshole!” you screamed, fists pummeling against his chest, shoving him backward. His hands wrapped around your wrists, holding you in place, keeping you from reaching him. 

“Stop it!” he yelled as you flailed like a feral animal to free yourself from his grip.

“I hate you!” you cried. “I fucking hate you!”

“Calm the fuck down!” he roared, pushing you back until he had you pinned against the wall, his weight pressing against you. “God, why do you have to be such a bitch!?”

“Probably because you’re such a dick!” you snap back, trying so hard to hold onto your anger but the awareness of his body, every inch of him now pressed against every inch of you, is making it harder to do. 

He rolls his hips, his erection pressing against your center, smirking when you gasp at the contact, “Yeah, but you like that dick, don’t you?”

“Go to hell,” you grind out through gritted teeth and when he drops his head to find your lips, you snap at him, going for the bite. He just chuckles, keeping hold of your wrists, bringing them to either side of your head against the wall. 

“You are such a pain in my ass.” He tries for the kiss and when you nip at him again, his lips latch onto your neck instead, sucking a bruise into your skin while he slots his thigh between yours. 

“You are…” 

But you never tell him what he is as he presses his thigh against your center, your traitorous hips rolling, seeking the friction he’s providing. His mouth moves over your neck, suckling the flesh in a semi-circular pattern until he reaches the other side. He’s marking you, a necklace for you to wear, to display that you’re taken, that you already belong to someone. Like a fucking dog in heat, he’s making sure that Billy Hargrove and any other unfortunate male who even glances your way knows you’re not available. 

You want to fight him. You want to be the badass bitch who pushes him off and walks away, stands your ground, but it just feels so goddamn good. His mouth on your skin, firm muscle grinding against you just where you need it, fingers pressing into your pulse points as he keeps you captive against the wall. 

“What was that, princess? I’m what?” he teases, fingers loosening their grip on your wrists, trailing over the sensitive flesh on the underside of your arms sending shivers racing up your spine. They brush over the outer curve of your breasts and your back arches, your body craving more, needing more but Eddie just steps back, holding his hands out in front of him. “There’s the door. If I’m such a dick, why don’t you head out right now and find your little boytoy?”

Your teeth grind together, that anger that you’d forgotten in the haze that was desire raging back, the two warring with each other, a battle that was about to lead to epic destruction. 

“You bastard…” you mutter, shoving him backward, his body moving barely an inch. “I despise every fucking thing about you.”

One eyebrow lifts, taunting, his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth, tracing over his bottom lip. Your eyes watch, a clenching between your thighs as that backstabbing bitch aches for what she knows that tongue can do. 

“I hate you…you’re…you’re…”

“Yes? I’m listening.” He cups his hand to his ear, egging you on, brown eyes dancing with amusement as how vexed he’s gotten you. 

A roar of frustration rips from your throat, your hands slamming into his chest, sending him almost toppling over the coffee table. His arms flail for a second before he drops to his ass, hard, just managing to keep himself sitting. He barely has time to look up at you before you’re climbing onto his lap, your fingers sliding roughly into his hair, grabbing a fistful, painfully pulling his head back, relishing the way he winces. 

“Fuck, princess. Careful with the hair.”

“Shut up,” you order, your tongue tracing down his neck, his wince quickly turning into a groan. You sink your teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder and he grunts, grabbing onto your hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. 

You rock against him, seeking the relief, the pressure building within you, winds of anger and lust meeting to create a tempest that was about to sweep you both away. Lips, teeth, and tongues clash in a war of biting, sucking, and scraping that has your thighs shaking, a coil tighter than you’ve ever felt before curling in your stomach, begging to spring free. 

Eddie’s hands grab onto your top, tearing it in half, the sound of the threads coming apart satisfying. He makes quick work of your bra and then his mouth descends, marking your flesh until you’re sure there won’t be an inch of you that isn’t bruised. Your hands find their way up his shirt, nails raking along his back when he clamps his teeth over your nipple, tugging at the tender peak, a pain that sends a rush of pleasure straight to where you keep rocking against him. 

“Fuck yes!” you cry, nails embedding into the skin of his shoulders, using him as leverage as you chase your own release against the bulge in his jeans. 

His hand clamps around your throat, pushing you back, away from what you want right at the moment you’re about to get it. The rage is back, awakened again by the audacity of this man to keep your orgasm from you. Your back drapes over his legs as he makes fresh marks over your stomach, his other hand slipping up your skirt. 

The soft Eddie, the one who glided calloused fingers over your trembling flesh, who teased you over top of your panties, who pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs, was nowhere to be found. Without warning, his thrust two of his thick fingers past the scrap of fabric and inside you, not giving one thought to if you were ready for him.

But you were. Holy shit, you were wetter than you’d ever been, inner thighs already sticky from the friction, the brutish way his mouth was marring your skin. You’d never been so turned on in your life and you didn’t know what that said about you and at this moment, with his fingers deep within your pussy, his heel grinding against your clit, his mouth suckling a fresh mark under your breast, you really didn’t care. 

“Not thinking about leaving now, are you, princess?” His hand came down, making contact with the side of your breast with a smack, your whole body jolting. 

You cried out, your hands dropping to the ground behind your head to keep you from spilling off his lap. Another finger pressed into you, stretching you, filling you and a sound you didn’t even recognize wrenched from your body as it clamped down around his fingers. His large palm grabbed your breast roughly, pulling at the overly sensitive skin, everything heightened in this moment, your entire body feeling like it flayed open, senses on max level. 

“Fuck!” you growled, your whole body quaking as it neared release and his palm lifted, fingers slipping out, leaving you feeling empty. 

“You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“What the fuck do you mean…”

But your words were cut off as he manhandled you, turning you over, your face pressed down into the carpet. Snatching off your underwear, he roughly palmed your thighs, spreading you wide until your entire front half was bent onto the floor. 

You heard the slide of his zipper. “You want this dick, don’t you?” he purred, leaning forward, his voice just over your shoulder. “Come on, princess. You want this dick, you gotta ask nicely. Say please.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. 

“Hmm…okay then…”

“You think I want that after so many groupies have had a turn on it,” you challenged, daring him to say it. To tell you that yeah, he’d been cheating on you for months. Letting you believe it was all just about keeping the fans happy so they’d keep coming back. “You think it’s so special? You can fucking keep it. I can find just as good elsewhere.”

You moved to get up and his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you back down to the floor. 

“Nobody’s had a fucking turn but you,” he growled. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart but a liar ain’t one of them. You are so goddamn stubborn, you know that? Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you.”

“Then don’t!”

“Oh, I wish it were that simple. I’m fucking in love you, you idiot! You’re a pain in my ass and you drive me up the fucking wall but I love you and you love me and you fucking know it.” He slapped your ass, leaving a sting that had your pussy dripping all over again. “Now be a good girl and ask for my cock politely.”

Fuck. You hated how right he was. You hated how much you wanted him. You hated how hopelessly in love with him you were. You wished you had the strength to just get up and walk away but you didn’t. A throb between your thighs reminded you how much you needed this. Your body was going to make the decision for you. 

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you snarled.

“I’m sorry. What’s the magic word?”

“I hate you…I hate you so fucking much…”

“Nope. Sorry but that’s not it.”

“Please!” you screamed. “Please fuck me into this goddamn floor and let me come already!”

“That’s my good girl.”

His hips slammed forward, colliding against your own as he buried himself to the hilt within you. You groaned gutturally, your body a discrepancy of both relief and tension. He thrust into you at a brutal pace, your skin smacking together, loudly filling the small space. You had a fleeting thought about what the neighbors were hearing but it quickly dissipated as the only thing you could focus on was Eddie, stretching you, filling you, finally giving you what you needed. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you off the floor, pressing your back to his chest. Continuing to fill you, he gripped your neck, his other hand sliding over your stomach and in between your thighs. When he applied pressure to your clit, you keened, arching back against him. 

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” His teeth bit down into your shoulder. “You’re the only one that’s mine. You’re the only one I want. Do you understand that?”

You couldn’t answer. Your eyes rolled toward the heavens, muscles trembling violently. You had zero control. His grip around your throat tightened, a wheeze rising from your lungs as you attempted to suck in air that you couldn’t find. 

“I said, do you understand that?”

He slowly eased up pressure and you rasped out, “Yes. Yes. Yes…”

The word continued to fall from your lips, a mantra as the pressure that had been building within you finally reached its boiling point. You were standing at the precipice, looking at the drop…it was so damn close you could taste it. 

“Come for me now,” ordered Eddie. 

The band snapped, an explosion of sweltering heat racing along your skin, as your orgasm violently took over your body. Eddie kept his hand around your neck, not ceasing his unmerciful pounding, his flesh meeting yours with a ferocious collision every single time. His grip tightened as an animalistic roar assaulted your ears. 

Sweat slicked flesh slid against each other as the two of you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You lay next to him, panting, struggling to understand what the hell had just happened. How had you gone from being ready to kick him out to having the hottest sex of your life?

“I mean it. You’re the only one. I’ve never kissed or touched any of those girls. I’ve never even considered it,” he gasped. “Have you? Were you…considering Billy?”

“No…not really,” you managed, still unable to fully catch your breath.

“You love me?”

Your head turned, looking over at this idiot that somehow had such a hold on you. You couldn’t explain it but you also couldn’t deny it. Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

“Yeah. I do. I love you even if you are a dick.”

“Good because I love you too, you pain in the ass.”

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; you accidentally summoned a demon , and he can't leave without doing something for you: either kill someone, or... Fuck you.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Devil!Rody Lamoree x FTM!Reader .

. . . words ; 3.5k+

EXTRA ! porn with plot , also request box is open for people who want more studio investigrave related fics !

Summoning demons wasn't really in your bucket list for this year, but somehow, you were pushed to the breaking point. You never thought they'd go this far for an april fools prank.

Sure you've always known they held a small hate for you—actually, small was a bit of an understatement but it's whatever, your anger was far deeper than the dislike they had for you anyway—but you never thought they'd decide to bring you to an abandoned warehouse, topped with a summoning circle drawn on the ground with what you hoped was ketchup, and proceeded to leave.

You never took them for the cultist types, then again, they always did sacrifice you on multiple occasions (those sacrifices being leaving you to take the blame while they ran from the cops for trespassing on private property and a bunch of other things).

A sigh escaped past your lips as you recalled all the times they've done you wrong, and decided that once you're out of this place, you're dropping them for good. "I'm going home." You whispered as you stared at the red pentagram on the dirty cement floor, decorated with a lit candle on each end of the star. You then proceeded to turn around and jumped out of your skin when a rat appeared in front of you.

You gasped and stumbled backwards, only to trip over a stick that was conveniently placed right behind your heel, and fell back on the ground; laying inside the pentagram your friends had drawn. A loud groan erupted from your throat as you tried to scramble away from the rat—which had long since disappeared—and accidentally cut yourself on the broken cement.

With a hiss, you looked at your finger and watched as a trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. You sighed and wiped it away on your shirt while you stood up, "Fuck this, fuck them—" you were gonna run to their house, and slap every single one of their fucking faces.

As the thought passed through your head, a sudden gust of wind blew through you, and the once lit candles were put out. You paused and looked around you with unease. It was creepy enough that you were alone in an abandoned building, but to have a large gust of wind blow through your body in a confined space was even creepier. You gulped thickly and backed away, trying to reach for your phone in your pocket when you suddenly felt something breathing down your neck.

Your eyes widened, and your body immediately shut down. Not even a few seconds later, a loud growl eminated from the creature behind you, and then a whisper, "... You gonna move off my foot or what?" You practically screamed and instinctively ran forward— and let me tell you, it was a real bad idea, because you Immediately hit a wall.

The creature—which you assumed was a demon or a squatter or a fucking werewolf—whistled as it watched you fall back on the ground. "That's gotta hurt..." You groaned and covered your face, "No shit it hurt!" You yelled at it, and reached for your phone in your pocket and turned the flashlight on.

Only to be faced with a tan man with hair a dirty orange, and curious green eyes that stared down at you while you kept laying on the floor. You dropped your phone on your face in shock. But the one thing that stood out about him were the pair of black horns that sat on his head. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"What? Is being scared a weird reaction now, dipshit?!" You yelled as you rubbed your nose. The demon raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "Says the human who summoned me." He defended himself in a nonchalant demeanor. You sat up and scrunched your face at him, "I did not summon you. I didn't even think the pentagram worked."

"It's a pentagram, how would it not work." He rose a brow while his tail swung around, "It's not like it was made of ketchup or anything." You couldn't bring yourself to tell him that you did think it was made out of ketchup. He'd probably laugh at you. Instead, you eyed him up and down with the light you had, before you spoke, "So... You gonna grant me three wishes or something?"

"I'm a demon, not a genie. The only three things I can give you is my name, age, and occupation." He murmured blankly, "So how 'bout it? I need to get paid too."

"Then give me those three things." You replied, "My name's Rody, I'm 382 years old, I think. I stopped counting after 380, and obviously I'm a demon." Rody introduced himself with a smile, almost a purr to his voice as he did. "Cool. You can go away now." You said as you shooed him away and tried to walk off, only to be stopped when he pulled you back by your shirt.

"Wait no—you can't just leave!" Rody said with what appeared to be a small pout, "Demons like me just can't go away without fulfilling a certain job for the human who summoned them. So it's either you ask me to kill someone for you, or..." He trailed off and blushed at the thought. "... You use me for your own p-pleasure..."

You stared at him blankly as he fumbled with his black vest, "What are you? Some teenage boy?" he took offense to this and immediately shook his head, "I am not a teenage boy!"

"And I am not asking you to do any of that." You mumbled and tried to walk away again, "Just lie and say you did one of the two—" "—well I can't! You know they're always watching me!"

Rody was practically begging as he clung to you. He sure was putting the title of a demon to shame. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. As much as I don't want to be here..." Rody trailed off, like even he didn't believe his last words. "Well, it's been a while since I've been out in the field so it was kinda lonely waiting in my apartment but that's besides the point!" He ranted unintentionally, before he shook his head.

Rody noticed the way you stared at him, and he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Just, ask me for anything." He said more seriously as he let you go.

You thought about it, and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not asking you to kill anyone." You murmured and looked down at the floor. As tempting as it sounds, you weren't gonna just tell him to kill your friends. It was silent, as if Rody was waiting for you to initiate something. At least he was willing to wait for your move.

You then got an idea, "Do demons like blood?" You asked him, looking back up into his green eyes. Rody rose a brow before he nodded, "I guess, especially if it's their summoners blood." He whispered, not sure where this is going. "Do they go insane with just a simple whiff?" You questioned once more, and before he could even get an answer out, you rose your sliced finger in front of his face.

Rody's eyes widened, "W-What are you doing?" He hesitantly asked as he split glances between your finger and your face. "What does it look like I'm doing? How long has it been since you've tasted human blood?" A red glint flashed over Rody's eyes as he leant forward, and took your wrist into his calloused hands. "... Too long..." He whispered and gently kissed your skin, before licking the blood with a groan.

"... I feel so dirty... Licking your dried up blood like this..." Rody gazed back down at you with lidded eyes, "I'm not that much of a savage." He muttered as he kissed your lips. His hands immediately finding their way onto your hips and he pulled your body closer to his bigger one, "You don't mind I just..." Rody whispered against the kiss, using his sharp canines to bite down onto your bottom lip—enough to draw blood as he closed his mouth on the wound and sucked on the red liquid.

You hissed at the slight pain that he inflicted onto you. Noticing your reaction, Rody pulled away and pecked your bruised lip, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it..." He whined and kissed down your chin, "Forgive me?" Rody's hands traveled under your shirt to caress your skin underneath. You gasped, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rubbing your hardening nipples. Rody trailed his lips down to the side of your neck, gently nibbling on the skin.

You felt yourself get pushed back against the wall while his knee moved to go in between your legs. Rody pressed himself closer to you, letting his thigh rub against your core. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you..." He cooed into your ear, "Pretty boy..." Rody praised as he suddenly pinched your nipples. You bit your bottom lip to stifle your moans, too embarrassed to let anything out.

But Rody wasn't having any of it. "Let me hear you." He said blankly, and before you knew it, his hand was inside your pants, already thumbing at your engorged clit. "Come on, pretty boy... I'll make you feel so good... Just let me hear your voice..." Rody encouraged you in his velvety smooth voice.

You threw your head back as an unexpected moan slipped past your lips, and a grin spread across Rody's face. "Atta boy, keep going." He removed his hand away from your chest and started to undo your pants, pulling them down to pool on your feet along with your underwear.

Rody took his time to admire you and your sopping cunt that was just begging for his attention. With a quick lick to his lips, he sunk down to his knees in front of you, and placed both his hands onto your thighs to keep them open for him. "Haven't tasted a sweet thing like this in a while..." He whispered in awe, "300 years ago, I'm guessing?" You quipped with a breathless chuckle.

Rody furrowed his brows and slapped your pussy, which made you whine, "If you're mouth's able to retort, then I'm guessing it can moan too." He grumbled as he then buried his face into your cunt. Your eyes widened, immediately reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair as he licked a stripe up your vulva.

You felt Rody close his lips around your throbbing clit harshly sucking and licking it. Your thighs shook, begging to close and push Rody away from the stimulation, but his strong hold prevented that. Rody placed his knee on your pants— the only thing that served as restraints for your ankles— and removed his hand from your thigh to gently tease your hole by circling around it with his fingers.

You whined, practically begging him to push it in, and when he did, a loud moan erupted from your kiss swollen lips. Rody chuckled against your heat, and sucked on your clit, the sounds of your wetness against his tongue making you cringe. Rody pumped his fingers in and out your pussy, curling and hitting all the right places in just the perfect angle.

Rody inserted another finger, his thick digits rubbing your gummy walls as he harshly finger fucked your pussy. "So lewd...~ Your pussies so wet, it's practically dripping down my hand..." He teased, and pulled his mouth away from your clit, instead using his other hand to swish his fingers side to side on the engorged bud. The sensation made you squeal, desperately trying to close your thighs around his hands but he stopped you.

"Whoa there, keep them open." Rody furrowed his briws and fingered your pussy faster. Tears rolled down your cheek from the pleasure, a small whimper sounding from you as you pulled Rody closer to your cunt. Without a second thought, Rody went back to licking your clit, wanting to overstimulate your senses until all that was left of you is a crying and moaning mess.

He thrusted his fingers even quicker at this, "Look at you... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already crying..." He cooed, his hands tightening around your thigh as he licked his lips. You blushed at his words and immediately covered your mouth, getting too flustered by his teasing. You were getting so close, and it was driving you insane—a heat started to pool at the pit of your stomach, stating your impending release.

Rody grunted and suddenly pulled his fingers out—slapping your clit harshly. Your eyes widened as you let out a slutty moan, and before you knew it, you squirted all over him. Your thighs shook from how hard you came, your whole body turning to putty in his hold as more tears escaped from your eyes. With a cry, you glanced back down at Rody, only to see him staring up at you with the same shocked expresson on his face.

"Did you just cum from having your pussy slapped?" He asked, a small grin forming on his face. You sniffled and looked away in embarrassment, "N-No..." Rody chuckled and leant forward to kiss your cunt softly as a small apology for slapping it, "It was kinda hot, don't worry sweet boy." He praised and rose to his feet.

"Think you're ready for me?" Rody asked as he kissed your lips gently. You gave him a slow nod, and he smiled, "Alright." He undid his pants and belt, along with his underwear and let them pool on his feet. Rody was now half naked in front of you, his impressive size standing tall. It was probably the biggest cock you've ever seen. Probably the only cock you've ever seen, rather.

He placed his hands under your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Making sure to let your pants and shoes fall to the floor first so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, "Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" Rody reassured you, and your eyes widened. You placed a hand on his chest, "W-Wait, that's it? You're just going in with no protection?"

He paused and stared at you blankly, "Babe, I'm a demon, not a prostitute. I didn't know I was gonna end up fucking someone today, of course I don't have a condom." Rody said in a monotone voice, as if it was already common sense. "If you're that worried, I can pull out... Don't worry." He whispered and pecked your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gulped, "O-Okay..." You nodded. Rody positioned himself against your hole, rubbing the tip against the lips and smeared the precum all over your pussy. "Fuck, you're even wetter than before..." He chuckled and gently pushed the head of his cock in.

Your hissed at the stretch, immediately tightening around Rody when he pushed more of his length in. "S-Shit, don't tighten so much! I-I can't even go any further...!" Rody panted, closing his eyes at the warmth that wrapped around his weeping dick. "Just... Breathe for me, okay?" He massaged your ass, waiting for you to relax so that he could bottom out inside you, but for now, he remained unmoving.

You steadied your breathing, holding onto him tightly, and slowly nodded. Rody took this as a sign to keep going. He noticed he wasn't even halfway in, before he decided to just fuck it—and suddenly pushed himself in fully in one go. You gasped and cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes at the pain and pleasure that pooled at the pit of your stomach.

Rody moaned into your neck, rubbing your thighs to soothe the pain. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweet boy... It's just that, I couldn't take it... I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..." He kissed all over your shoulder, and slid a hand over to rub your clit in order to distract you from the pain.

You could only scratch at his back as your toes curled, "You're doing so good..." Rody whispered praises into your ear, waiting for you to adjust to his size. It was the least he could do for bottoming out harshly.

After a while, you gave Rody a nod. He put his hand back under your thigh, and slowly pulled out until only the tip was left inside, before pushing back in gently. A shudder ran down your spine at the pleasure that spread through your body.

Once he saw your positive reaction, Rody kept going at the pace he set; slow and steady. You gripped onto Rody tighter, strings of moans falling from your tongue as he kept thrusting. One particular thrust hit your g-spot head on, and Rody adjusted his angle so that he could hit it everytime. "You're so tight... So perfect for my cock..." He grunted into your ear, gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled all the way out and gave a harsh thrust into your sopping pussy.

You threw your head back and cried, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Rody's wings flexed behind him at the pleasure, his own moans and groans stringing out from his mouth. "S-Shit...! N-Need to change your position..." Rody suddenly pulled out your heat, and put your feet down the ground. He turnt you around, and pulled your ass back against him and positioned himself once more, before he thrusted all the way in and continued his harsh thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out as you clawed at the walls. "R-Rody...!~" You squealed and looked down at your stomach, seeing a visible bump that formed whenever he thrusted into your tight cunt. Your eyes grew cloudy from the tears, and you reached down to press on the bump, finding pleasure in knowing he was so deep inside you.

You heard Rody laugh from behind you, "What? You like how I'm so deep inside your pussy?" He asked as he spanked you which made you sob, "Fuck, I love this pretty hole of yours..." Rody groaned and fucked you faster. He leant forward, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. Rody reached down and started rubbing your clit in timed with his thrusts, which caused you to shriek and shake your head. "N-No..! It's too much...!" You cried and babbled, your head turning into mush the more he fucked you stupid.

Rody pulled and rubbed your clit faster at your words, "You're close... Right? I'm close too..." He groaned, whimpering as he reached out to place his hand over your own against the wall. You panted like a bitch in heat, and sobbed, "R-Rody... C-Cum in me...! Please!~" You begged, unable to think straight anymore from the way Rody was bullying his cock into your cunt.

You were reduced into nothing but a toy for Rody's pleasure. Rody's eyes widened at this, and his thrusts faltered for a second, but you shook your head and let out strings of insistent 'no's. "P-Please keep going, keep going...!~" You pleaded. He was hesitant, but the way you were looking and begging... It was too much.

Rody groaned and pulled back, pushing your cheek against the wall with his hand, and fucked your cunt faster. His balls slapping against your pretty pussy lips, "You asked for this... Not me...!" He moaned loudly, feeling himself come closer to the edge.

Rody's thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy, before he gave one last thrust, and came inside you. You came right after him—squirting all over his fat cock. You drooled all over the wall as you closed your eyes from how hard you came. Rody panted and chuckled breathlessly as he stared at you, "You did so good..." He whispered and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

You tiredly reciprocated, whining when you felt your shared release dripping down your thighs. Rody pulled away and rubbed your sides, "You'll give me a five star

review right?" He grinned. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, "Is there even an app for this shit?" He pouted and nodded.

"Yeah, there is. It's called deviliscious."

"You're lying."

"Okay, yeah, I am."

"Just pull out you asshole."

@ shirakow ; Reblogs are always appreciated <3 it's like 5 am as I'm editing this and I haven't gotten any sleep .

ㅤ

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Vergil Protecting You After You're Injured

Vergil X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, violence, reader is wounded

Word Count: 767

(A/N:) Sorry I have been MIA folks! But I'm back and hopefully will be writing more and getting back into the swing of things. I've been wanting to write, but every time I sat down the words alluded me. So I took a little bit of a break and focused more on my artwork. Now I hope to continue to give attention to both my hobbies. So keep an eye for more stories in the future! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Vergil never felt that having back-up in fights was necessary, as he felt perfectly capable of taking care of business on his own. Power was his only goal in mind as he fought. Becoming the best, becoming stronger. Leaving himself unquestionably the best and most powerful being in existence. Leaving his brother Dante in the dust, like the vermin he is. Then Vergil came across you, a devil hunter in your own right, and he begrudgingly acknowledged your skills in the art of slaying demons. It was a fluke, he had told himself, that you ran into him hunting the same hoard of devils. It was a fluke that you fought alongside him perfectly. A fluke that you had his inner devil half purring at your nearness. Now it was a common occurrence for you both to take missions together.

What had changed his mind about you, he couldn't remember. And now it seemed abnormal whenever you weren't at his side. You were a fragile human, completely mortal, but your powers and strength made even the most powerful of the devil hoards cower and fall by your blade. Vergil refused to let you forget your humanness, but as you were always quick with retorts. You made sure that Vergil never forgot that he was also half human. He tried really hard to forget that, in his pursuit of power that his father and stupid twin brother had given up for the side of humanity. Vergil would scoff, roll his eyes, and march away leaving you to sprint to catch up. But he couldn't fight the small grin coming to his lips, despite trying to hide it, of course you'd notice and not leave him alone until you were satisfied in embarrassing him.

Once again you and Vergil found yourselves taking on another hoard of demons. This group had dug deep into a small town and refused to go down easy. Slash marks marred your face and despite blood flowing into one eye, you refused to back down. Vergil snarled for you to run away, but you stubbornly widened your stance ready to face another wave of attack. All he could do was curse you loudly and hope to keep your now blind side protected while you protected your other side. Limbs and heads of demons falling at your feet, until a Sin Scythe cut through it's own allies just to plunge the scythe into your guts.

Your cries of pain shattered Vergil's concentration as he watched in horror as you crumbled to the ground. His devil side raging inside as the scythe was pulled from your still form. He trigged in blind rage stepping in front of your fallen form and taking out the rest of the hoard in a wave of power. He tried to calm himself, to switch back but all he could manage was a few of his limbs and most of his facial features. Spittle flew from his lips as he tried to soothe his fury, while he checked for a pulse. Your heartbeat met his scaly fingertips and when he pressed a warm hand to your wound, you whined. He snarled more and your eyes fluttered open.

"Vergil?"

"You're losing a lot of blood," he replied. His voice deeper than normal, but that had to do with the fact he was fighting hard to keep from fully transforming again as the blood in his veins continued to boil in anger.

"How many are left," you panted. Always worried about the mission instead of yourself and it made him roll his eyes.

"Dead," his blunt reply made you stop asking questions. Your eyes clouded in pain Vergil scooped you up easily. "We have to get this taken care of."

"Vergil," you gasped. "Slow down. It feels like I'm coming apart at the seams."

"You'll just have to hang on a little bit longer. Until we can get clear so I can use the Yamato to open a portal."

"If you say so." You grumbled. "But don't complain if my innards stain your pretty clothes."

"I'm more worried about losing you."

Vergil's reply stunned you both and his body began to tense until you gently cupped his cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised.

"Good because I'll tease you for eternity for being taken out by a Sin Scythe," he smirked and you pinched his nose in protest. While your warm blood, had him fighting the anger inside, Vergil's top priority was to take care of you first and then go make more demons' lives living nightmares for even laying a finger on you.

[cameronspecial]

Fight or Flight

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Sexual Content (Not full-on smut but mentions of a heavy makeout and grinding.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: When Y/N plans to take her first solo trip, Rafe has to make sure she can defend herself.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Wherever Y/N is, Rafe isn’t far behind her. The duo had been best friends since they were in diapers and he has been protective of her for almost as long. Everyone knew they liked each other, but neither of them was willing to admit it. “You don’t know how to defend yourself, princess. Who is going to protect you if I’m not around? I can book a ticket right now if you want,” Rafe proposes, watching as she books her own ticket to London. Y/N shakes her head, “Rafe, it would defeat the purpose of my first solo trip if you come with me. Plus? I don’t need you all the time to protect me. You know, I’ve been taking self-defence lessons.” He raises his eyebrows in a surprised manner. “Really? You think you know enough to keep yourself safe?”

“Yes, the instructor seems to think so.”

“Okay, well, if you want me to not coincidentally happen to be on the same flight and staying in the same room, then I’m going to need to test your skills. I’ll book the boxing platform at the gym for us for tomorrow. Deal?”

Knowing it was the only way she could get him to back off, Y/N had no choice but to agree. “Deal.”

———

Y/N walks out of the woman’s changing room in her athletic clothing with her hair in two Dutch braids. Rafe can’t help but smirk when he sees his old high school varsity sweater covering her figure. He knew she had stolen it even though she kept denying it, but he couldn’t be angry at the fact because the sight before him was breathtaking. She gets to the rope that surrounds the ring and he walks over to help her up. She feels a warm feeling in her stomach as he does most of the work lifting her up onto the platform without breaking a sweat. “I’m not going to go easy on you. A normal attacker wouldn’t,” he warns as she takes off her sweater. She gives him a thumbs up and they go on opposite ends of the platform. 

They begin by circling each other and then Rafe goes in for the attack. He lunges forward and wraps his large hands around her neck. Y/N remembers what she learned and immediately tightens her neck. She uses the weight of her whole body to push down on his thumbs and bow herself out of the choke hold. She does a little victory dance that makes Rafe laugh at how adorable it is. “You know you shouldn’t do that if you were actually being attacked,” he comments, stepping back from her. She looks over at him, “I know, but I’m proud that I actually remembered. Hey, can you get me your water bottle, please? I’m thirsty.” Rafe just shakes his head with a smile on his face and turns to do as she requests. 

Once his back is facing her, she runs with all of her force to push him onto his stomach, which works. However, Rafe thinks faster than her next move and he swipes his foot from side to side. It knocks Y/N off of her feet and she falls flat on her back. Her legs are spread open on top of his spread legs and before she can get herself up, he hooks his legs around her. He twists them so that she is on her stomach and his chest is against her back. His pants brushes past her ear causing her cheeks to heat up at the feeling. Rafe knows the position has made his blood rush to a certain prominent lower body appendage, but he does nothing to hide it from her. They stay lying this way for a few seconds in silence and since she doesn’t try to remove herself from him, he decides to shoot his shot.

He lowers his head so it is closer to her collarbone, placing a kiss right there. Y/N’s breath hitches as he begins to kiss up her neck. He stops at a particular spot where he notices her eyes fluttered shut and begins to nibble at the skin. The attack on that spot only stops when he is certain a hickey is going to form and he begins to kiss his way back up to her lips. She brings her lips to his and they start to move against one another. This position is a little uncomfortable to be making out in so she quickly flips over so that their chests are pressed against each other and her legs are wrapped around his waist. He places his lips back to hers and his tongue slips into his mouth, but they begin to fight for dominance. When it begins to look like she is losing, she thrusts her hips up so it comes into contact with his clothed cock and he stops to let out a moan. That is when she takes the advantage to slip her tongue into his mouth.

She notices how much he likes that action and she flips them so that they are both sitting. She straddles his hips and begins grinding into him. He moves his lips from hers and starts kissing back down her neck so his lips are kissing the top of her breasts. Realizing where this is about to go, she runs her fingers through his hair to push his head back. She presses her forehead against his and they both take a panting moment to catch their breaths. “We can’t continue this here,” she breathes out to him. Rafe brings his lips close to hers, “Okay. We can continue this in London.”